30 Days (6 page)

If it wasn't for my sister I’d have nothing. She is the only joy left in my life. She loves me no matter what. She is my rock. My confidant. My only family and my best friend. We can have entire conversations without actually speaking. Luckily my husband doesn't seem to care about us spending time together...as long as his dinner’s on the table when he gets home and his lunch for the next day is packed. I spend as much time as possible with her to escape my marriage. She gives me glimpses of the old me back. She makes my soul feel light again.

At thirty, I’m afraid I won't find a better man so I lie and tell myself I’m in love with him. I will die sad and unhappy but married for years and years and he will think he lived a good life, a happy life. It’s unfortunate sure, but I resigned myself to the truth of the situation a long time ago. I know at some point his rage won't stop at inanimate objects, that it will turn towards me but what can I do really?

Our fifth wedding anniversary is coming up this month and I dread the plans he’s made. I will be expected to look nice, smile and exude happiness during whatever we do. This could be simply a night out or an entire weekend away. If my skirt is too short or I look too nice he will make a comment and I’ll have to change. If I don't want to put out he will try extra hard at foreplay after I say no repeatedly, which actually turns me off and dries me out even more than if he skips it all together. If I want to relax and do something I enjoy, like swim or read, it will become an issue of me ignoring and neglecting him. I can't win with him so I just don't try anymore. I wait for him to instruct me and follow orders hoping that it doesn't result in screaming or a mess.

Fuck off.

I can see your cooter in that skirt.

Do something with me.

Get a fuckin job.

Why isn't the house clean?

Stop spending my money.

Why are you such a bitch?

Why can't you cook?

You’re being cunty.

You’re getting fat. Again.

Why can’t you do anything right?

That shirt barely covers your tits, slut.

Those shoes make you look trashy.

I threw up last night when I got in ...clean it up.

You’re disgust me.

You’re worthless.

He treats me as if I’m simply a piece of trash that can be discarded at any time.
There is no silver lining in life. He’s a one upper...if you had a bad day his was worse. If you’re sick, he’s sicker. I’ve never seen the man give change to a homeless person, hold a door open, or give up his seat for someone. He’s never done anything that normal people just do because it’s what people do. There is no kindness. You’d think that by now I’d be hooked on booze and pills or some shit like that but, surprisingly I’m too resilient for all that. I still have hope. Things will get better... they have too right? I mean it’s not a crime to hope that your husband will change. It might be completely stupid and naive but it’s not a crime. What if I leave him and then he gets it and changes. I’d be alone and he’d be cured and move on with some young thing and treat her like gold.

When he drinks heavily, it’s a different story. I contemplate leaving without a damned thing but the clothes on my back. He’s extra nasty when he drinks and extra horny. I hate the way he smells and the permanent sneer that resides on his face as long as there’s a beer in his hand. He makes lewd jokes that he thinks are hilarious but are offensive. He gropes me openly and it’s embarrassing. If we’re in public I have to pretend to be too intoxicated to notice his awful behavior. It’s a wonder he hasn't been in a drunken brawl yet.

He also drives drunk. I try to convince him to let me drive but sometimes it just starts a bigger fight between us. My parent’s lives were cut short by a drunk driver. It’s how Ryan and I met- at a benefit to raise money for a don't drink and drive campaign. My life over the last four years with him has become a shirt storm so thick that I can't see my way out. He loves me. I know he does. He loves me the only way he knows how and it would wreck him if I left him. Still, it’s not enough to stay, I know, but I do anyways.

He’s that guy who torments little kids and finds it amusing. Kicks dogs when no one’s looking or tosses a cat harshly. The guy with no filter who tells raunchy jokes and doesn't understand when no one laughs. The passive aggressive guy who’s mean, cutting remarks are masked in teasing so that others think he’s funny. The guy who will pick up the pot of soup on the stove and dump it on the floor or you after claiming it tastes like shit. I have small burn marks from where it splattered still.

It’s exhausting really, living with it. Excusing it. Overlooking it. Tolerating it.

PRESENT             

DAY 6

I wake up early giving myself enough time to eat and get ready before I’m due at the gym. My nerves are on edge. One part of me can’t wait to see him again but another part keeps reminding me that I’m not prepared to have a connection with someone. My only goal was to
escape Ryan and attempt to accomplish my list. I don't know how long it will last, if Ryan’s still looking for me or if I’m caught what will come of it. Everything's up in the air. Emotions swirl around inside of me but the one that keeps coming to the forefront is that I
want
to trust Colin. I want him to know me.

“Back for more.” John greets me when I enter the gym.

“Yup. Can’t seem to stay away.” I tease.

“Colin’s waiting for you.” He nods in Colin’s direction. The man never fails to take my breath away. He’s seated on the mat by the bag we were at yesterday, an ear to ear grin on his face. His hazel eyes burn into mine as I make my way over to him.

“Morning.” I say shyly.

“Morning. Glad you came back.”

“I told you I would.”

“Yeah well... I wasn’t a hundred percent convinced you would.” He says honestly.

I sit next to him on the mat and start stretching. Every once in a while glancing up and catching him staring at me.

“What?” I ask finally.

He shakes his head and smiles coyly. “I just can't seem to take my eyes off you.” The blush that crawls up my neck tells me my face must be bright red.

“Ready?” He asks smirking.

“Yes.” He pulls me up by the hand and tapes my wrists, his fingers lingering when he’s finished.

“I want to work on combinations today.” He tells me.

For the next hour I perfect my jab, cross, hook until sweat is dripping down my back. By the time I’m out of the locker room and feeling a little less swampy I’ve decided to ask Colin over for dinner. For some reason I’m feeling bold. He walks me to the door, hand at the small of my back as always.

“See you tomorrow, same time?” He asks hopefully.

“Actually. I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me tonight.” I keep my eyes trained on his shoes. Two fingers come to my chin lifting it to his face.

“I’d love to.” He says softly. I try to keep my face splitting smile from emerging but it’s a lost cause.

“Really?”

“Elle, I told you I wanted to get to know you. I meant it.” He states. “What time should I come over?”
His dimple makes a brief appearance making the thoughts in my head jumble.

“Ah… right…c
an you come for six? I’d like to cook you dinner.” I tell him. His eyes sparkle as his fingers drift from my chin to my jaw resting just behind my ear. He sweeps the pad of his thumb over the apple of my cheek and says. “I’ll be there.”

I am a complete spaz all afternoon. I clean the cottage like a maniac even though there really isn't anything to clean. I talk to Jenny like she's there making fun of me for being neurotic. I spend two hours in the grocery store debating over what to make and changing my mind four times before settling on steaks, a goat cheese salad with fruit and green beans. By the time I’m home and finished marinating the steaks my focus shifts to what I should wear. I don’t have a lot of options and I’m out of time to go shopping. Everything I own is on the bed spread out as I repeatedly hold things up and look in the mirror before tossing them back on the bed. Eventually I settle on a jean skirt, black and tan cowboy boots and a cowl neck tank top. It looks nice but not too nice.

I’m in the kitchen steaming the green beans when he knocks at the door. The clock reads five fifty five. I smile. As I open the door my breath catches. He’s in a crisp white button down shirt and jeans that hug him perfectly. His short brown hair looks like he’s been running his hand through it. One hand bears an arrangement of flowers and the other a bottle of wine.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” We stand staring at each other both fidgeting.

“Come in.” I say breaking the silence. He follows me into the kitchen and hands me the flowers.

“These are beautiful. Thank you.” I pull a tall glass from the cabinet fill it with water and place the flowers in it.

“How was the rest of your day?” He asks.

“Oh you know...” I trail off trying to think of something to say that doesn't give away that I spent my afternoon completely panicked about tonight.

“Nope. I don't.” He chuckles at me.

“I went to the grocery store and then cleaned up a little.” I divulge reluctantly.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” He offers.

“I’d love one.” I pull out two wine glasses, a corkscrew and hand them to him. Our fingers brush in the process sending a bolt of electricity straight between my legs. I put the finishing touches on the salad as he opens and pours the wine. I can’t help but gape at his attractiveness as I steal glances at him wondering how his skin would feel under mine and how I would feel touching it.

“I thought we could eat out on the deck. It’s so nice out.”  I take a swig from my glass letting the win
e slide smoothly down my throat hoping that it will calm my nerves.

“How can I help?” He asks. I already have the table set so we fix our plates in the kitchen and carry them out to the deck.

“This is a great view.” He says as the sun sparkles against the ocean. I sigh, a slight smile playing on my lips. “I know, I love it here. It’s been so peaceful.”

“How long are you here?”

“I rented the cottage for a month.”

“That’s a long vacation.”

“I guess.”

“Where do you live?” He asks before taking a bite of steak. A groan bubbles out of him. “What did you do to this? It’s amazing.” He gushes.

“You like it?” I can't hide my astonishment. My cooking has been a source of tension for so long I just expected him to pick apart how awful it was.

“Like it? Elle, my mouth is watering. Seriously. Everything is amazing.”  His compliment makes me blush. “So, like I was saying. After your months up, where do you go back to? Where’s home?” I fidget nervously debating silently if I should tell him the truth.

“I don't know. I don't know what I’m doing when my rentals up.” It’s the truth. I haven't thought that far ahead. He cocks an eyebrow at me.

“There’s something you aren't telling me.” It’s not a question. He knows I’m hiding something.

“My sister died.” I blurt. “She was my only family, my parents passed away years ago. I just needed to get away. I don't know what I’m doing after this. I haven't thought about it.” His eyes are so intense they scare me. They’re full of compassion and empathy. He looks pained almost, like he wants nothing more than to take my pain away.

“I’m so sorry Elle.” He croaks.

“It’s ok. I mean, I’m ok. Now. Sorta.” I’m rambling and I can't seem to stop. “But I didn't plan on you. I can't make sense of why I’m drawn to you. I know I shouldn't be because I’m shattered. Cracked. Broken.” I whisper ashamed. He moves his seat next to mine and wraps an arm around me pulling me tight into him. What he says next shocks me to my core.
“Cracked can be repaired. Filled in. Shattered can't. You might be cracked Elle, but you’re not beyond repair.”

I lift my face to his slowly and push my lips into his. He immediately responds deepening the kiss. My world’s instantly set in perfect motion as he slides me onto his lap and wraps an arm around my waist while the other hand snakes through my hair. He kisses me until I’m breathless and panting. I pull away gasping for air. His forehead rests on mine as we both catch our breath.

“What are you doing to me?” He rasps and right then I know that I can’t give him up.

We finish dinner, Colin continues to gush over the food which still makes me blush and we retire to the living room after cleaning everything up. “More wine?” He asks. “Sure.” I hand my glass out to him and watch as he strides into the kitchen and filling our glasses again. When he shuts the fridge door he pauses. I watch as he pulls the list from the fridge and carries it back in with our wine.

“Tell me about this.” He places the list between us on the couch.