no turning back

• four •

gladys

For the entirety of the weekend, I remained inside the house. I hardly stepped out of my bedroom, much less the front door.

Ben remained in full-fledged panic mode. He was so paranoid that Elijah would pop up at any second. While I didn't necessarily believe that, even I couldn't deny that his disappearance was concerning.

Then there was the devil on my shoulder. She took every chance she could to replay the memory of that dance in the bar. I wanted so badly to believe it was him.

And that was exactly why I refused to indulge my fantasies. It wasn't him. He wouldn't have just let me go afterward. I was just too drunk and desperate that night, which all culminated in a very vivid hallucination.

Instead of allowing my mind to wander, I locked myself away in my room and puffed away the weekend in a daze. I sat at the desk in my room and worked on my sketches.

I checked on Ben twice a day to make sure he was alive but otherwise peaceably ignored him. He did the same.

This was our way of handling conflict with each other. We didn't want to talk because we had our own reasons to be mad at each other. But we couldn't just leave either.

We were stuck together.

As good as we'd gotten at tolerating each other, I felt ready more now than ever to leave. I didn't know how long we'd have to go on with this charade.

Ben insisted he was comfortable and fine with this way of living. I think he viewed this opportunity to parent me as a way to make up for the lack of parenting he gave to Bernice.

I could understand his grief better than most, and I did what I could to make him feel like he did a good job with me.

He'd kept me alive, hadn't laid a hand on me, and didn't intentionally dig at my self-esteem. He was doing alright.

I wasn't totally content with this setup. I wanted to start my own life again.

A life where I wouldn't be under the control of some dictating force. A life where I could be free and make every decision on my own.

Then, maybe I would settle down. I didn't think I was cut out for the whole white picket fence deal, but it would be nice to love someone and build a life together someday.

The hot sear of despair lanced through my chest. I didn't know how I would ever find love again.

How could I when I still looked for him in every male face I saw?

Like every other Monday morning, I dressed in scrubs, pulled my hair back into a high pony, slapped on some mascara and chapstick, and padded out into the kitchen. The house felt empty and I knew Ben had left already for work.

I poured a thermos three-quarters full of coffee and topped it off with my favorite cinnamon dulce creamer. Once I found my purse and my coat, I stood at the window and looked out at the street.

I practiced smiling a few times, rehearsing some of the conversations I would undoubtedly have with patients today, and then strode outside.

A bitterly cold breeze wrapped around me as I walked along the sidewalk. My eyes turned up to the sky.

Thin, periwinkle purple clouds churned through a darkening gray sea of atmosphere. Rain was coming and it was coming soon.