Page 31 of Save Me

A few weeks later, charges are dropped on a technicality–one of the cops forgot to read Arthur his Miranda Rights. Arthur doesn’t lose his job because the charges were dropped.

Arthur comes back to the apartment mad as all hell. He kicks my ass, and I curl up in a ball on the floor, some fucked up part of me thinking I deserve it. Because I do. I started it, and I could fight back.

Then Arthur curls up on the floor next to me, sobbing and begging me for forgiveness. Saying he was scared he’d lose everything and was just angry. He promises me we can get through anything. Through it all, I just place my head on the cool floor and listen to the neighbor's dog bark. Bark and bark and bark. Arthur’s yelling must have scared him again.

I feel bad. The poor dog.

That night, I make a plan to get away. At the very least to give the dog some relief. I’m going to start letting some bills go so I can save enough money to get out of here and go somewhere else. I call my siblings and ask if they can send birthday gifts early, just a few things like gift cards for groceries.

Arthur says he’s going to change. He signs up for therapy and starts going weekly. He starts buying me little gifts, and they just collect dust on the kitchen counter. I desperately want each gift, but I’m afraid that if I touch them, I’ll break out of whatever numb state I’ve found myself in. So the flowers die, and the chocolates stand unopened.

I busy myself with work and a family of pigeons that made its nest on our outside patio, giving them scraps from my meals and making sure they have water.

Then, one evening, Arthur comes home from the bar saying something happened with his friends. He starts crying, saying no one loves him, and asks why I can’t love him the way I used to. His voice starts rising, like it does before he gets mad, and I freeze, everything in me telling me that if I just lie low, he’ll calm down.

Then the neighbor’s dog starts barking.

The barking breaks me out of my frozen state. If the dog is scared, I should be too. Walking as calmly as I can to the bedroom, I grab a go bag I made. Arthur follows me, but stops to puke in the hallway. I step around him, hands shaking, grab my keys, and slip out of the apartment.

I run the rest of the way to my car, terrified he’s going to chase me.

He never does.

I couch surf with Jared for a few days, but he already shares his apartment, and everything I own is back at home. Then Jared comes home with a black eye and says I gotta go, that there are too many people in the house. He refuses to say what happened, says it’s stupid, but I know what happened.

Arthur happened.

I feel like a pussy. I’m putting my friends in danger now. Arthur wasn’t doing anything to me, and I still ran. On top of that, I ran even though I did nothing wrong.

A few days later, I go back to get my things. From there, I’m not sure where I’m going to go. I’ll live out of my car if I have to.

I live out of my car for a few weeks. I stop paying the bills, and I just leave. During that time, Arthur sends apology after apology, and when I block his number, he starts emailing me. He sends long messages about what he’s talking about in therapy, tells me he isn’t giving up on us, and that he’s finally ready to fight for us. He says he’s sober now and says it was the alcohol that made him fuck up so bad. He says he’ll pay all the bills and even sends me money that I use for a hotel. I take the liberty of using Arthur’s Amazon to order myself some things to the hotel as well.

In that hotel, my heart breaks. Over and over again. And then I get mad. Why did he have to do those things? We were lovebugs. We were meant to be together. Till death do us part.

I lie to him about staying with Jared even though he already knows.

Then I get mad at myself. Arthur is willing to try. He’s getting sober for me. He’s going to therapy. Am I really just going to give up on us? On love?

I start drinking again. I know I shouldn’t, but the room is just so goddamn empty. And then, in a rash, angry decision, I go back to our apartment. I pound on the door and demand that Arthur open it. When he does, I shove him back, yelling at him, taunting him. “If you’re gonna fucking kill me, just do it! Just do it, pussy! You won’t!”

Arthur just looks at me with dark, sad eyes.

“I’m done, and I’m getting my shit,” I spit and stalk to the bedroom. When he doesn’t follow me, I get the oddest urge to cry. I cry and throw myself on the bed, scream at him, and ask him why. Why, why, why? Why can’t he love me? It’s not that fucking hard!

For a moment, I wallow. The anger hits like a brick wall, and I start throwing things into a bag. It doesn’t take long to pack my things, plus a few extra things I take from Arthur, including a Cleveland Guardians hoodie that I’ve always liked. Because fuck him. If he’s going to ruin what we have, then he at least owes me a hoodie.

When I’m done, Arthur is on the couch on his phone, dry-eyed. And that’s when I notice something on his neck–a dark circle.

Is that a…hickey? A fucking hickey?

That makes the rage flare hotter. I throw my head in the air and stalk the patio, where I check on the pigeon nest.

Only, it’s not there.

My stomach drops.

“Where are the pigeons?” I ask. For a beat, I forget everything else and step back inside. “Where are the birds?”