Page 84 of With Love

I don’t know if leaving is the right answer, but I’ve never had the opportunity to do so before. The idea of being able to just go, to leave and be all on my own, of doing something that I want to do, of taking control of my life is intoxicating. It’s like throwing a hunk of meat in the path of a wolf. Does the wolf think twice about eating it? No. She sees an opportunity. And she takes it.

Walking away from Marshall, I end up in my closet again. Realizing that my overnight bag is still in the car, I grab a different bag that is just the right size for a few days. I fill it with two pairs of pants and two shirts. I throw in some socks and underwear. I grab my jacket and put it on. I walk back out into the bedroom and I expect Marshall to intercept me on my way to the bathroom, but he’s gone. I grab my toothbrush, toothpaste and my hairbrush and turn back around, reentering the bedroom.

Just then, Marshall returns to my bedroom with a stack of envelopes.

“I should have given these to you sooner. Now I wish I had,” he says.

“What are these?” I ask.

“Letters that I wrote to you. Please read them.” He opens the side pocket of my duffel bag and places them inside, not giving me an option.

I step closer to him, cupping his cheek with my hand, just as he did to me a moment ago.

“Goodbye, Marshall.” I turn away from him before the dam holding back all of my tears splinters into a thousand pieces.

Opening the door, I come face to face with Owen. I almost forgot he was here.

“Hey,” he says. He has his bag packed and slung over his shoulder, just like me.

“Hi,” I answer sidestepping him.

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know. It’s not like I have anywhere to go. I’m just going.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Owen, I really just need to be alone right now.”

“Do you have any money? Where are you going that you can stay for free?”

Fuck. He’s right and he knows it.

“Let me help you, God damn it!”

“Fine. Let’s go.” I walk down the steps, grab a set of Marshall’s keys from the drawer by the front door.

Unlocking the car, I get in and Owen closes the door behind me. He pulls a flashlight out of his bag and does a quick search around the vehicle before opening the driver’s door. Using the flashlight, he searches the panels around the door for some reason.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

No answer. His hand feels around under the dashboard below the steering wheel. His hand pulls on something and he shines his light. Whatever it is that he found, he tosses it out of the car and it hits the ground with a thud.

“What was that?”

“Tracking device,” he says as he puts the car in drive.

As we drive off into the night, I leave my heart, smashed into oblivion, behind me.

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