Page 55 of Finding Forgiveness
Why did I flee? I can’t say. All I know is I had some kind of epiphany as I shed about fifty-five percent of the sixty percent of water that makes up the human body in tears this morning. It might sound a little cliché—or I’m possibly suffering from a severe case of dehydration—but during that time I realised something … I was lost. I no longer knew who I was.
That happyish, innocent, carefree girl I once was, was no more. For years, I’ve just been existing. Going through the motions of life on autopilot—living in the body of a survivor but unable to leave the scene of the crime. The trauma may not be my fault but healing is my responsibility. I’d taken the first step by finally telling Connor the truth … well part of it. Now it was time for me to work on myself.
Thankfully, my best friend didn’t stand in my way. I know it was hard for Jacinta to let me leave, but she has nothing to worry about. I’m not going to harm myself. I’m on a voyage of self-discovery … well I hope that’s what I’m doing. All I know is that I need to be alone, to have some free time to be myself.
I’ve never had a chance to do that. For years, my every move has been controlled by my mother. Even when she wasn’t around, I was weighed down by the poor decisions she made. This secret has been eating away at me from the inside out for years. On the exterior, I may have seemed happy, but internally, I was dying a slow and agonising death.
Although there’s still more of this story to tell, I feel lighter now that Connor knows about the baby. Running away and leaving him a letter may seem like the coward’s way out, but I can’t be there to witness his devastation when the real truth is revealed.
The confusion and heartache I saw on his face before he walked out on me this morning will probably plague me for years to come. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him, but by not telling him, it’s exactly what I’ve done.
Sure, I had my reasons, but even they seem moot now. I was a scared and impressionable sixteen-year-old child. Bullied by her mother to the point of submission. I believed her threats. The conditioned part of me still does.
I thought I was doing the right thing by him, but now I know better. He has every right to be angry; this mess affected him too. And when he finds out what my mother has done, I can only imagine what his reaction will be. I know I’ve waged a war by finally cleansing my soul of the pure evil that’s befouled us both, but that woman deserves everything that is coming her way. She needs to pay for her sins.
I stopped at a place called Katoomba—which is a hip kind of country town in the Blue Mountains—so I could pee and fill up my tank.
As I continue my drive, the small pockets of civilisation seem to be getting further and further apart. I’d hate to run out of petrol in the middle of nowhere and be stranded, only to then be eaten by a wild animal, or worse—chopped into teeny tiny pieces by a deranged axe murderer. My life thus far has been shitty enough without meeting such a tragic and dramatic end.
I place my bottle of water between my legs, using them to grip it so I can remove the lid. I need to stay hydrated because I haven’t eaten today. My stomach is too knotted up to think of food right now.
I’m wondering what Connor will do when, and if, he reads my letter. I glance up at the clock and see it’s only 2 pm. He wouldn’t even be home from work yet.
Has he tried to reach out to me?
I had the foresight to turn my phone off before I left because my main focus of this trip is to heal; I’ll deal with the fallout of my decisions when I decide to return.
It’s dusk by the time I arrive at a place called Mudgee; I’m in the bum fuck of nowhere, but I have to admit it’s the sweetest little town. As I drive down the wide main street, I feel like I’m stepping back in time as I eye all the quaint, historic buildings mixed in with the new.
I’m a contemporary, clean-lines kind of girl, but even I can appreciate the grandeur and workmanship these old buildings showcase. They just don’t make them like they used to.
I ease my foot off the pedal and lean forward slightly in my seat. What I’m looking for is a hotel … somewhere to stay for the night. I feel like I’ve been driving forever, and I’m physically and emotionally spent. I need a long shower and some food before I hit the road again in the morning.
When a horn sounds behind me, I wave my hand out of the window in an apology before pulling over to the kerb. It’s probably safer and a lot more practical if I do a quick Google search for accommodation. I’m surprised by the list that pops up on my screen. I wasn’t expecting so many.
The first listing is a place called Cobb & Co. Court Boutique Hotel.Boutique, I like the sound of that. When I see the cost of a nightly stay, I gasp. One hundred and ninety-one dollars. Growing up, my family would stay in hotels that cost ten times that, but then I remember I’m living in Peasantsville now.
Punching the address into my GPS, I take the short journey to Cobb & Co.
It looks pleasant enough from the exterior; I can only hope the interior is the same. The two-story, red-brick building is turn of the century and appears to be well maintained. It has an ornate metal railing along the length of the second-floor balcony. It’s very different to what I’m used to, but one night won’t kill me. The new me embraces different, and besides, I’ll be back on the road tomorrow. The old stuffy Cassandra would’ve never considered a place like this, but I’m not that woman anymore. I’m no longer my mother’s daughter.
I have no clue how far I plan to travel on this journey of self-discovery, but Perth seems a little extreme. I’m hoping this trip gives me the solace I’m so desperately seeking. I’ve never had the chance to completely mourn my child, because I was too busy trying to pretend it never happened. I’ve been too focused on protecting my mother, but no more. The hole in my heart will never mend, but if I want some inner peace, I have to try and learn to live with it. The first step is letting go of the resentment and accepting I can’t undo the past.
I tilt my head back and gaze up at the blue sky, letting the morning sun’s rays kiss my face. I’m sitting on the front balcony of the Cobb & Co. enjoying my first coffee of the day. I didn’t sleep the greatest, so I know this will be the first of many, but it had nothing to do with my accommodation and everything to do with my current circumstances.
Has the shit hit the fan back home? I’m too scared to find out. I turned on my phone once I’d checked in last night for as long as it took me to send a message to Jazzie. It simply said,I’m at my first stop, I’m safe and bunkering down for the night. Love you.I feel like a total arsehole for it, but I need this time for me.
I appreciate my friend’s concern, and my heart goes out to Connor and everything he’s going through because I’ve been in his shoes. He’s only twenty-four hours into his grief … I’ve been carrying mine around for six long years.
I bring the mug to my mouth and lean forward in my seat when I see a young girl moseying down the street on horseback. She has a pink cowboy hat on her head and a backpack on her back. The clippity-clop of the horse’s hooves, as it walks, amplifies in the silence. It has a lulling effect.
Is she riding that beast to school? I wish I wasn’t on a self-imposed phone ban because I’d love to take a picture, it’s not something this city chick sees every day. Not in real life anyway.
When my coffee is finished, I head back inside. My room is quite spacious and surprisingly clean. I’m not sure what I was expecting for one hundred and ninety-one dollars, but it certainly wasn’t this. I even have my own bathroom, and despite its gleaming appearance, I still showered in my trusty rubber thongs last night. The last thing I need is some nasty fungal disease attaching itself to my feet.
After I remove my pyjamas and get dressed, I slip into the bathroom to brush my teeth and pull my long hair back into a ponytail. I’m doing the no-frills Cassandra today. No make-up or fancy clothes. There’s nobody to impress, and if I’m serious about my recovery, I need to stop hiding behind all the glitz and glamour.
Once I’m ready for the day, I grab my bag, sling it over my shoulder, and make my way downstairs. I’d planned on getting back on the road first thing this morning, but I’ve decided I’d like to explore this town a bit more before I leave. I also need to get myself one of those pink cowboy hats. Healing is a slow process. You can’t rush these things.
