Page 7 of Love in Pieces
As soon as I hear the click of the latch, tears stream down my face. The lump in my throat grows as I walk, and I can’t hold back the shortened breaths that hitch with each inhale. I quickly make my way to the stairwell to hide, the fear of Sam finding me like this all too overwhelming. I don’t know how much longer I can survive in this relationship. It’s toxic. I know that. It’s abusive. I know that. But what I don’t know is how to get out of it.
It never used to be like this. We were happy once; at least I was. When we met during a shared class my freshman year of college, he made my heart leap every time I saw him enter the room. He was so sweet to me. He would write me notes during class and hand them to me before we parted ways. I’d read them on my way to my next class and wouldn’t be able to hold back a toothy grin. Butterflies would take flight from even the shortest of notes. He’d take me out to dinners and always color-coordinate outfits with me. He never made me pay for anything. Looking back on it now, it all seems like a ploy to gain control. And now, cutting off my access to a personal income solidifies the fact that I willneverget out of this. It's like climbing a tree. Getting to the top is easy, but getting back down, that’s the hard part, the scary part. He’s working me toward complete solitude. And not the tranquil kind.
The familiar metallic taste of blood coats my tongue. The sore inside my mouth that I have chewed open stings and forces me back to the present. I look around and check my watch, realizing I’ve been sitting in this stairwell for far too long. I need to leave before Sam realizes I’m still here. I don’t want to have to explain why my eyes and cheeks are so puffy. I head down the stairs, out to my bike, and let it take me anywhere but here.
***
Iknock on Dr. Kraus’soffice door, and it instantly sends my pulse racing. Yesterday’s conversation with Sam has been playing on repeat in my head, and I’ve been working up the courage to talk to Dr. Kraus for hours. I’m sure my pacing has worn a path into the pavement outside the building. I still haven’t figured out how to tell him. When I got back last night, Sam had made dinner and put on one of my favorite movies to watch together. His form of an apology. He told me how much he loves me and that’s the reason he got so upset because he wants “the best for me.” The thought makes me roll my eyes. What’s best for me clearly doesn’t include what I actually want, like dedicating myself to my writing and working a regular job.
“Come in!” a low voice sounds from the other side of the heavy wooden door.
The salt and pepper hair of Dr. Kraus sits behind his desk, a perfect match to the short beard and mustache. “Good morning,” I say with a smile, trying my best to sound as chipper as possible.
He shuffles through a stack of papers on his desk. “Abigail, good morning. What brings you in today?” he asks, completely unaware of the bomb I’m about to drop in his lap.
Me showing up at random is a regular between him and me. When I started working for him, I had taken three of his Shakespeare classes before asking him for advice on my writing. He started out as a mentor for my poems and then I got up the courage to show him one of my short stories. He got hooked on that one. He even had me submit it to the literary magazine on campus, which I ended up getting a spot in. It was my first time being “published” if you can call it that. But it felt like such a huge accomplishment for a sophomore. Now, as a junior, being his TA, I’ve learned so much more from him than I ever thought possible. He never questions me when I bring in my personal work for his opinion.
“Just wanted to chat about a few things. Do you have a minute?” I wipe my clammy hands on my pants to rid them of the sweat.
“Of course. What can I do for you?” He leans back in his leather chair, resting his folded hands on his neatly ironed brown suit, the creases almost crisper than my morning toast. He offers a smile, his attention now fully devoted to me.
I take a deep breath, attempting to calm my nerves. I really don’t want to do this.
“Actually, before I forget, for the summer semester, I’m offering you a raise. Nothing crazy, but it is something. You won’t be required to do any more work than you do now. In fact, you’ll have only half as much work since I’m only teaching two classes. Just a little thank you for all the work you’ve done for me so far.”
Great. Now what am I supposed to say? I can’t quit now. He’s depending on me, and honestly, I don’t want to quit. I love this job. Dr. Kraus has been good to me this year, and I’ve learned a lot from him.
“That’s great news. I’ve loved working with you.” I plaster a smile on my face as if I’m not about to break my own heart, and his.
“Good to hear. So, what were you hoping to talk about?” He leans forward, resting his hands on his desk.
I look at my lap, fidgeting with my fingers, trying to figure out how to break the news to him when the single best idea I’ve had all year comes to me. “I was hoping to ask if working remotely for most of the summer would be an option. I can stop by once a week or so to pick up and drop off work as needed. I’m just hoping to be able to work a little more freely for the summer.”
Sam doesn’t have to know that I’m still working for Dr. Kraus. If I work remotely, he shouldn’t suspect a thing. I can figure out the fall semester later.
“Hmm, not a bad idea. I’ll support it. Why don’t we start by stopping in on Mondays and tentatively on Fridays if needed,” he offers, starting to shuffle through some papers.
“Awesome. Thank you so much. I can assure you my work ethic will not suffer.” I shake his hand before leaving his office.
As I close the door, the hallway is quiet. The fake wood linoleum peels up at the corners as I pass each doorway. Distant footsteps echo between the empty walls of the old building. The heavy wooden doors latch with a loud thud when students and teachers exit one of the classrooms, their voices carrying to the entrance as I leave. The cool spring air graces my face, and I tilt my head up to take in the smell of incoming rain. A warm happiness fills me with each breath.
And then I realize that I did not bring an umbrella, and I rode my motorcycle here. Leave it to me to not check the weather before I leave. I was so focused on how I was going to quit that I didn’t take a minute to think about anything first, like the fact that I now have to hide this secret from Sam, and I’ve never been good at hiding things from him. At this point, all he has to do is look at me in a particular way and I cave to his demands. As I make my way to my bike, an urgency in each step, the vibration of my phone makes me freeze in place.
No. Sam can’t know. He couldn’t have found out already. He wasn’t there, but his cognizance has surprised me before. I squeeze my eyes shut.
I brace for impact as I slowly pull out my phone, relief flooding through me when I see who’s calling.
“Mom?”
“What kind of a hello is that?” she snaps. “Can’t a mother call her daughter just because?”
“Sorry. Hi, how are you?” I ask, trying to recover.
“That’s more like it. I’m fine, thank you for asking. I was calling because I heard Sam was asked to attend an out-of-state financial conference for work. That’s amazing news!”
There is it. Calling to check in on her daughter? No. Lately, she’s cared more about what Sam is up to than her youngest daughter. “Oh, uh, yeah. He told me yesterday. I assume he texted you, too?”
“He did. He sounds excited. I invited you two over for dinner tonight. Sam already said you were available, so I’ll see you tonight!”
