Page 6 of The Grief We Hold

Oh, and cheap.

We’re making do with a large mattress left by the previous tenants. Fen and I share the bed for now. He’s too young to freak out over sharing with his mom. By the time he cares, I hope we’ll be in a better situation.

Our clothes remain in the two suitcases I tightly packed, but there’s a growing laundry pile I’m going to have to take to the launderette soon.

But in the six nights since we arrived in this peacefully Podunk town, I finally found enough peace to sleep like a baby, secured a job, and got Fen into kindergarten. I got the breakfast shift, which suits me perfectly. The kindergarten has a little before-school program, so I can drop Fen there and rush to the diner.

That’s more progress than I expected or planned for when I left Seattle eleven days ago.

And I’m grateful for the small round wooden table and two mismatched chairs, and the single nasty-looking recliner that I’ve scrubbed and scrubbed but can’t seem to get the grease stains out of.

Because it all means we made it.

That alone makes me want to dance around like I live in a palace.

Once, I was swayed by what other people think is a perfect life. A well-respected husband, a big house, a healthy income, and flowers throughout my home, replaced weekly.

Now I know fancy husbands can’t be trusted, big houses in Seattle are expensive, and healthy incomes that come from conning others can be a death sentence.

Now I’m grateful for a calm home with no raised voices. One where I won’t jump when the front door slams. One where I don’t have to deal with a man who likes to throw things. One where I won’t wake up to strangers in my house ready to kill me.

And in summer, I’ll pick my own flowers.

Fen’s footsteps pad to the bathroom, and I hear the steady stream of water. There’s barely room to turn around because of the way the toilet, bath, and sink are crammed in there, but the plumbing works, and Fen loves what he refers to as the baby bathtub.

We’re broke. Sort of. I sold some of my jewelry at our first major stop in Sacramento. We didn’t come to northern Colorado directly because I was worried about being followed.

Fen thought it was an adventure. I didn’t tell him any different.

But the cash I made has to last a long while. Emergency money if we have to leave quickly or fly. I dare not touch our accounts again, although when I checked them before I left, they were empty.

My husband must have drained them before he fled without us.

Mrs. Dobson adopted us immediately; she brought us some sheets for the bed, some pillows, and a couple of spare pots when she realized the suitcases held all the belongings I had. And she’s offered to take Fen if I get stuck at the diner while I find my feet. Margie let me have some cutlery and crockery and spare utensils from work.

None of this feels real. Every night I pray for the strength to get through tomorrow.

But life here is smoother. I find I don’t miss my husband’s energy. He proved long ago that he didn’t love me anymore, too obsessed with making money. But I knew his fragile ego meant he’d never grant me a divorce without holding Fen’s custody over my head.

But I’m here. Less than a week in town and surviving on my own.

I hadn’t stopped and looked at my life in a while. My friends were really the wives of Marco’s friends. None of them have messaged me to find out if I’m okay, given Marco is now a persona non grata who stole their money. I’m not sure why I let my own friends fall by the wayside, except at some point, I was dazzled by the life he could give me.

By the time I noticed, I was trapped.

When I told my dad we had to run, he insisted on helping as best he could. He drove us to Portland and dropped us at the bus station.

Before he left us, he put an envelope in my hand. In it was five hundred dollars cash and two prepaid cards, each with a hundred bucks on it.

“Hope it helps,” he’d said. “Should be enough to get you started.”

On the bus, I gave Fen the simplest explanation I could think of. That his daddy realized he’d been naughty, and that Fen and I were going somewhere safe and happy. He’d accepted it with the innocence of a child who trusts his momma completely.

I hadn’t had anywhere in mind. Except I wanted to be somewhere vast. Expansive. Where you could see the mountains and breathe fresh air but hide in plain sight.

One night, we were in a motel, and while Fen slept, I watched a TV show about a cattle ranch in northern Colorado. We made our way here the very next day.

I expected to stay in a motel or something when we arrived, but everything fell into place in a way I couldn’t believe was real. The bus had dropped us off opposite the diner just as Margie had been hanging ahelp wantedsign. I went inside, said I’d work a whole shift for free, and if she liked what I did, she could hire me.

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