He handed me a business card. I took it with trembling fingers.
“I’ll take you home,” Marcus said.
“No.”
It came out too sharply.
“I mean, just drop me off a couple of blocks away. I don’t want to have to explain.”
“I understand.”
We returned to the car. We were silent on the way back. I stared out the window, thinking about his offer, about my escape, about a new life, about the fact that if I refused, I would remain in that apartment with that husband and that job as a janitor forever. The car stopped two blocks from my building.
“Thank you,” I said as I got out. “For everything. For saving me. For the park. For the offer.”
“Don’t thank me. Just think about it. And remember, you deserve better.”
I nodded and walked down the snowy street toward my home. The lights were on in the windows. Greg was already back. I unlocked the door and went inside. The apartment reeked of alcohol and vomit. Greg was lying on the couch snoring. His suit was wrinkled and stained. He hadn’t even bothered to get undressed. He had just collapsed and passed out. I went to the bathroom, washed off my makeup, took off the dress, and looked at myself in the mirror. The dark circles were back. So was the exhaustion. But there was a spark in my eyes that hadn’t been there for a long time.
I was woken up the next morning by Greg yelling from the living room.
“Anna, where are you? Get me some Gatorade and Advil.”
I got up, pulled on my robe, and went to the kitchen. He was sitting at the table holding his head. His face was gray. His eyes were red.
“My head is splitting,” he moaned. “What happened last night? Why can’t I remember anything?”
“You seriously don’t remember?” I asked calmly.
“No. Must have had too much to drink. Where’s the Gatorade?”
I opened the fridge, got the bottle, and poured him a glass.
“You put me up for auction,” I said, placing the glass in front of him. “For five dollars. You said I was a frump and that I squawk when I sing.”
Greg chugged the Gatorade and waved his hand dismissively.
“Oh, come on. It was probably a joke. You weren’t even there. What are you so upset about?”
“I was there.”
He looked up at me.
“What?”
“I was there. I was at the party. I heard every word you said.”
His face changed. He tensed up, trying to remember.
“You were… I don’t… look, okay. I’m sorry. I was drunk. I didn’t mean it. And anyway, where were you all night?”
I looked at him and realized that even if he did remember, it wouldn’t change a thing. To him, it was just a joke. Normal behavior. He saw nothing wrong with it. The doorbell rang. I opened it to find Sharon on the doorstep holding Leo’s hand.
“Mommy!”
My son ran into my arms. I hugged him tightly, breathing in the scent of his hair.
“Well, had your fun?” my mother-in-law asked snidely as she walked in. “I told you there was no reason for you to go. You probably made a fool of yourself.”
“Greg, sweetie, how are you? Your head must be hurting. Mommy will get you some water.”
“I already got him something,” I said quietly.
“Oh, right. Well, at least you’re good for something.”
I stood there with my son in my arms, looking at the scene. My mother-in-law fussing over her grown son. He moaning from a hangover and demanding attention. Both of them looking at me like I was the hired help. And it would always be like this. In a year. In five years. In twenty. Leo would grow up thinking, This is how you treat women. He would become just like his father if I stayed. I went into the bathroom, locked the door, and took out Marcus’s business card. I dialed the number with trembling fingers.
“Hello,” he answered on the second ring.
“It’s Anna.”
“I accept.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. But I need help. With the divorce. With moving. I don’t know how to do any of it.”
“My lawyer will contact you in an hour. When can you be ready to leave?”
“Tomorrow. I need to pack my things quietly while my husband is at work.”
“Okay. I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow. Everything is going to be all right, Anna.”
I hung up and looked at my reflection in the mirror. I was terrified. Absolutely terrified. But I had to do this. For myself. For Leo. And for the girl who once dreamed of singing on a grand stage. The rest of the day passed in a haze. Sharon left in the evening. Greg lay on the couch watching TV and moaning periodically. I cooked dinner, cleaned up, and put Leo to bed. A normal day. A normal life. But inside, everything had changed.
On January second, Greg went to work saying he was meeting up with colleagues to continue celebrating. I waited for him to leave, then started packing. I didn’t have much. My clothes fit into one suitcase. Leo’s toys and clothes went into a duffel bag. I took only the essentials. Mine and my son’s documents, our marriage certificate, Leo’s birth certificate, our medical records.
“Mommy, are we going somewhere?” Leo asked, watching me pack.
“Yes, sweetie. We’re moving to a new place.”
“What about Daddy?”
I knelt down beside him and took his little hands in mine.
“Daddy is going to stay here. We’ll come visit him, but we’re going to live separately. You’re going to have your own big room.”
“But why aren’t we going to live with Daddy?”
“Because Mommy and Daddy can’t live together anymore. But we both love you very much. That will never change. We’ll just live in different places.”
Leo thought for a moment, frowning.
“Will there be room for my cars there?”
“Yes, there will. A whole room for your cars.”
“Okay, then.”
