Page 24 of My Destiny
Brooke
Eight months have passed since I fled Jake and moved back to Sydney. The first few days were tough, and I shed a bucket load of tears. But after a week of receiving a barrage of nasty and threatening messages from him, I decided enough was enough. I changed my number and haven’t looked back. It’s sad considering he was my life for so long, but given the way things ended, moving forward was the best way to go. As my mum always said, ‘Being strong doesn’t mean you’ll never get hurt; it means even when you do, you’ll never let it defeat you.’Those words were something she lived by.
Within days of arriving here, I secured a small Victorian terrace house. It’s not far from the city, but far enough away from where I once lived with Jake. The easiest way to prevent him from finding me was to completely start over. That means no contact with my old friends, and not going back to the dance school where I used to work. It was incredibly hard, but necessary.
When I first returned, I lived off the savings I’d put away to start my own dance school, but it didn’t take me long to get a job—well, two actually, or three, if you count the occasional piano lessons I’m now teaching from home. Apart from my plane ticket, I didn’t touch the money in our joint account. I don’t want or need anything from him. It’s way more satisfying knowing I’m doing this all on my own.
I work part-time at a dance studio during the day, and waitress in the evenings at a small restaurant down the street from where I live. I work the piano lessons in during my free time. Keeping busy helps to curb the loneliness. I’ve even managed to save a little money each week, which is helping to rebuild my dance school dream fund. It’s going to take me longer than I’d like to reach that goal, but every day is a step closer to achieving my dream, and that’s what I try to hold on to.
My new place is old, but has had some renovations done over the years, so it’s pleasant enough. The kitchen is less than five years old, and I love to cook, so that’s a bonus. The bathroom renovations are a little older, but it’s still in good condition.
The bright colours on some of the interior walls weren’t to my liking, so I repainted every wall white. It gave the space a fresh new look. My landlord was even nice enough to take the cost of the paint off my rent.
My lovely red sofa, bedroom suite, television, fridge, and washing machine were all purchased new, but the rest of the furniture although bought second-hand, are in great condition. I even managed to pick up some old black and white prints of the area in a yard sale, which I reframed. They look great hanging against the stark colour on the walls, and coordinate well with my furniture.
I’m so proud of my humble little abode; it’s not much, but it’s home. It makes me appreciate what my mum went through so much more. There’s something really satisfying about accomplishing all this on my own. Who needs a husband?Certainly not me.
“I’ll just run the mop over the floor before I go,” I tell Andy as he finishes up balancing the nights takings. He and his partner Mark own the restaurant.
“I like closing with you,” he says. “I never have to ask you to do anything. You just do it.”
When I’m finished, I rinse the mop and empty the bucket. After placing them in the storeroom, I grab my bag. “I’m going to head off,” I say.
“I’m almost done. Wait and I’ll drop you off.”
“It’s only down the street, you know.”
“Yes,” he says. “But you know I don’t feel comfortable with you walking home in the dark.”
We’ve had this conversation many times. I’ve never accepted his offer in the past, for no other reason than I don’t want to put him out. However, today I did three back-to-back classes at the dance studio, and we were run off our feet at the restaurant tonight, so I’m bushed.
“That would be great, thank you.” My answer makes him smile.
I give Andy a wave when I reach my front porch, but the car remains idling out front until I’m safely inside. He’s very sweet, and I’m grateful to have someone watching out for me. He’s expressed concern about me being on my own, though I’ve never discussed Jake or the fact that technically I’m still married. He even tried to set me up with his brother once, but as lonely as I am at times, I’m not interested in another relationship right now. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be. The two main men in my life, my father and my husband, both turned out to be the biggest disappointments.
Dumping my bag in my room, I grab my pyjamas out of the drawer and head into the bathroom to shower. This place gets too quiet at times. I’ve considered getting a pet for company, but I’m away from the house so much, it wouldn’t be fair.
I double check all the windows and doors are locked before turning off the lights and climbing into bed. I’m exhausted so I know sleep will come easy tonight.
A loud bang awakens me, which is followed by what sounds like glass shattering. Bolting upright, I glance at the clock on the bedside table. It’s just after one in the morning. Sitting perfectly still, I listen intently, but all I hear is silence. Throwing back the covers, I slide my feet into my slippers and get up to investigate. It’s usually such a quiet neighbourhood, and I’m not aware of any problems since moving here.
I’m still half asleep and a little disoriented as I pad down the hallway in the dark. Entering the front room, I walk towards the window. A street light on the other side of the road illuminates the dark night enough for me to see if anyone is outside.
“Shit,” I say when I hear something crunching beneath my feet. Switching on the lamp sitting on the side table, my eyes scan the floor. The first thing I see is a brick sitting in the middle of the room and shards of glass everywhere. My heart starts to race as my gaze moves to the now smashed window. My hands tremble slightly as I reach down and pick up the brick. I gasp the moment I see the word ‘BITCH’ written on the face of it.
Dropping it to the floor, I take a step back.Who would do such a thing?I’ve made no enemies since moving here. Not to my knowledge, anyway. My mum brought me up to be polite and courteous to everyone. ‘Treat others how you want to be treated,’ was something else she said often.
I wrap my arms around myself as I stare out into the night. Panic sets in when I think I see a shadow move across the front porch. I bolt to my room and lock the door, then rummage in my bag for my phone. My hands are shaking as I sit down on the edge of the bed and call triple zero.
“Police, fire or ambulance?” the dispatcher asks.
“Police, please.” My heart is thumping against my chest. My initial thought is Jake—he’s found me and has come to finish off the job, but that’s probably just my overactive imagination. It’s been eight months, and if it was him, surely he’d just come to my door.
“Police. You have an emergency?”
“Yes. Somebody just threw a brick through my front window. The word ‘BITCH’ was written on it. I think whoever did it may still be outside; I saw a shadow move across my front porch.”
“Okay. What is the address? I’ll send someone around to investigate immediately.”
