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CHAPTER ONE
Erin
Iclosedmy eyes and prayed as hard as Ipossibly could:If there’sanyone up there who might be listening to my prayers, please won’tyou make this nightmare end?
After getting home from another evening of drinking half the bar, the sweaty creature Icalled my boyfriend climbed on top of me, and Iagreed to having sex. It’dnever been my favorite, but we’dbeen together for three years and that was just what couples did, so Iagreed.
Since then, I’dbeen lying here, for say, the past thirty minutes, bored and staring off at the plain white ceiling of this plain white room. He, on the other hand, was into it. As much as an obnoxiously drunk man could be into something and moved on autopilot, jerking himself back and forth, going through the motions instead of making love. Sweat dripped from his greasy forehead down my chest, filling my nostrils with remnants of alcohol that flowed from his pores and out of his mouth.
And this person was ayear away from graduating and becoming adoctor. Treating human patients. Huh.
The meager comfort Ihad from this entire situation came from his disinterest in kissing me. It didn’tbring him any closer to the finish line, so my less-than-caring boyfriend passed on it whenever possible. Iapproved.
He did his part in this thing he called sex and, being as disinterested in this as he was in me, my mind ran somewhere far away. It wondered, for the first time maybe in years, how Igot myself into this mess. Into arelationship that screamed toxic.
Iworked on conjuring the positive aspects of our relationship and found nothing. Icould’ve ignored the not-so-great sex and his growing love for alcohol, if they’dbeen the only two things that were wrong with him. The former Icould conform to; the latter could be treated.
Greg’sproblem, which consequently resulted in my problem, boiled down to his lack of genuine interest and love for me. I’dbeen living with him for the past three years, yet he treated me like he treated the plants in the house. Anice, easily ignored decoration.
Then again, if Iwas being honest with myself, which Itried to be in this low point of my life, he considered me as even less. Decorations weren’tbelittled at every chance. Decorations weren’ttold that their work or studies were boring and inconsequential.
Ienvied our plants, because at least he didn’tcall themstupid.
But back to our bed and the unfortunate situation of Greg not coming, which shouldn’thave been asurprise considering, well, alcohol. It frustrated me, watching him pinch his eyes shut and try to force an orgasm out of himself. What Icould do, until the awaited moment arrived, was to close my eyes like he did and to not exist in these minutes that highlighted just what ameans to an end Iwas for him.
Eventually someone up there answered my prayers and Greg finished. He pulled out and staggered sluggishly toward the trash can where he disposed of the condom, not even caring to wipe himself before falling on the bed with athud. My side of the bed hopped in the air, but he wouldn’thave noticed. Since he didn’tcare.
Relieving himself of saying good night, he fell asleep immediately. Once again, Iaccepted that this was Greg. This was my life.
Why, though?alittle voice inside me whispered. I’dnever asked myself that, too busy accommodating Greg and his needs. Ialso accommodated the hurt, accepted the humiliation in his words as well as his ignoring me.
But why?the voice asked again, and Icouldn’tdeny it anymore. Ihad to leave if Iwanted any chance to have abetter life than this before my momentary courage fled from me.
“Greg, wake up.” Ipoked his arm when he didn’twake up.
He peered at me through one bloodshot eye. “What happened?”
“Iwant to break up,” Icontinued to whisper, although we were both awake. Greg had to be dealt with gently, if Ididn’twant to deal with one of his harsh looks or be yelled at.
His second eye cracked open, both looking at me with confusion. “Erin, what are you talking about?”
“Iwant to break up. With you.” Easy, simple, accurate. Anything more and I’dstart stuttering.
“Idon’tunderstand. Just go back to bed; everything was great before that stupid comment of yours.”
Idrew in along, relaxing breath and rode on my bravery streak, the words rushing out of me. “Things are great foryou. Ipay attention to you, how your day has been, what your family’slike, things you love and those you wish didn’texist. Like my paintings, or my mom and brother.” Ichoked on the last sentence, remembering the disgusted expression he gave me whenever Imentioned either of my family members.
“First, why do you take it so personally? Your paintings just don’tfit in. They’re too messy.” He sat up straighter, leveling my gaze with the beginning of what Irecognized as his ominous look. “Second, don’tyou think it’sabout time we cut that umbilical cord with your mom? It’swhat’sbest for you. For us.”
He repeated both offending statements more than once, but they were nothing new. Iwas the one who changed that night, and that change took effect right then by raising my voice, by wanting to be heard after years of being silenced.
“For me? What do you even know about me? Do you have any idea what my favorite…hmm…anything is? Do you maybe finally remember Igot accepted for the TA job Iapplied to, the one that starts in the fall? For fuck’ssake, do you even know how old Iam?”
“Seriously? Am Isupposed to keep tabs on all these things?” He matched my tone, and Igritted my teeth to keep myself from flinching, from showing him weakness. “Ihave alot on my plate these days at the hospital and—”
“That’sexactly it.” Iheaved along, tired breath. “Your life is much more important than mine since you’re about to become adoctor and I’mnothing but an artist. Newsflash, Greg, my life does matter.”
Tears pricked behind my eyes and Iwilled them away. “And by the way, I’mtwenty-three. Not that it ever mattered to you. As long as I’mlegal, right?”
