Starting Over Trilogy Boxset

by Kennedy, Brenda

  Heading into the bedroom, I shower, brush my teeth, and apply my favorite lotion, cinnamon and peaches, before putting on my white eyelet nightgown. I climb into bed with a romance novel and think of how truly blessed I am. A few months ago, I never would have believed my life could be so content.

  I am an only child. My mother passed away in a car accident when I was 12. And my father turned to alcohol to numb the pain. I tried to help him overcome his depression but to no avail. He became very mean when he drank, so I learned early on to stay out of his way. I worked hard at school, joined track, played basketball, and volunteered at the local hospital on weekends. My Aunt Rosie would come over and take me shopping or out for ice cream a couple times a week. She was my mother’s only sister and we would share memories of her. Aunt Rosie never married and didn’t have any children of her own. She said my Mom would share me with her, so I was like her child, too.

  When I turned 18, I moved out and went to college to be an interior designer. I loved it. I would call my Dad every Sunday to make sure he was ok and to update him on my classes and social life. He was usually drunk and slurring his words, which made it difficult to understand him. My phone calls home became fewer and fewer. I would call Aunt Rosie or she would call me several times a week. I loved talking to her and she was so excited the day I told her about a guy in my class, Jim. She would listen to me go on and on about him. He had an apartment close to the school while I lived in a dorm with another girl. He was wonderful to me. Always very attentive and caring. I loved him. We had so much in common, and I found he was very easy to be around.

  After two years of dating, Jim and I moved in together. One day after school when Jim came to pick me up, I was talking to a couple guys from math class about an assignment. Algebra was always a poor subject of mine. I saw Jim pull into the parking lot, said my goodbyes to my classmates, and jumped into the front seat next to him. I smiled over at him and could tell something was wrong by the scowl on his face.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  I could tell Jim was pissed!

  “Who are they?” Jim asked

  “Just some guys from Math class going over an assignment with me. I’m having problems with algebra.”

  “If you need help, get a tutor.”

  “Why would I pay for a tutor when they will help me for free? That seems kind of stupid.”

  I had never seen this side of Jim, and I didn’t like it. He had never told me what to do before.

  “I don’t want you talking to them again. If you need help, you get a fucking tutor.”

  He turned and hit me so hard that I couldn’t attend class for a week because of the bruising to my face.

  The abuse came more frequently for no reason at all. I ended up having to withdraw from school, because of all the days I had to miss because of the abuse. I was nearly done with four years of college before I had to withdraw. Jim, however, graduated. I couldn’t tell anyone about the abuse for fear of retaliation from Jim.

  Dad passed away last year. He never knew about the beatings or my withdrawal from school. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I wanted him to think his only daughter was living her dream with a man who adored her. Jim would be the doting boyfriend in front of people. He perfected the role to a T.

  While at Dad’s funeral, I had some bruises on my face that were fading. I was able to cover them up with makeup and acted as though everything was fine. It seemed to have worked. Nobody questioned the marks, and everyone seemed to believe that Jim and I were a couple madly in love.

  While I was helping to clean up the kitchen, however, Aunt Rosie approached me when Jim went upstairs. She had seen the bruises and knew without me telling her what was happening in my formerly happy little life. She placed her hand softly on my cheek and rubbed her thumb gently near my bruised eyelid.

  “Oh, Pumpkin, are you all right?”

  I blink back the tears that threaten to fall and put on a fake smile. Aunt Rosie, I’m fine.”

  “Do you need help? Stay here with me. You don’t need to leave with Jim.”

  The heartbreak in her eyes about did me in.

  “It’s ok, really,” I said, patting her hand.

  She offered to call the police and move me into her house. Too afraid to speak, I could only shake my head from fear that Jim would overhear us. Jim entered the room at that moment and announced that it was late and we really needed to get back. Saying our goodbyes, we left.

  Jim must not have heard Aunt Rosie because he never said anything about it. He is so smug, he probably thought he got away with it. He must be so proud of himself to be able to hide his monstrous side so easily.

  A few months later, Aunt Rosie was diagnosed with stage 4 bone cancer. She had only a few months to live. Jim allowed me to go visit Rosie daily to help with the cooking and cleaning and other errands that needed attending to. I would have to check in with him throughout the day and let him know when I left her house to return home. He knew it was exactly 33 minutes from her house to ours. I always prayed I didn’t get stuck in traffic, or there would be hell to pay.

  On one of my visits, Aunt Rosie told me she was sorry she couldn’t protect me from my Dad or Jim. She said after my Mom died, she knew my Dad had turned to drinking. She tried to talk Dad into letting me move in with her, but Dad wouldn’t allow it. She said she knew about the abuse I suffered from the man who was supposed to love me. She had tears in her eyes as she was telling me how I deserved much better. She gave me an envelope and told me not to open it until after her death. She told me how much she loved me and how much Mom would have been proud of me.

  I hid the envelope in the trunk of my car and drove home, crying the entire way.

  Aunt Rosie died two weeks later. Uncle Raúl, Aunt Maria, and I planned her funeral. With no husband and children, Aunt Rosie’s funeral was small and intimate. Just family and a few friends. It was just what she would have wanted.

  Jim went to work the next morning, and I sat at the table with the envelope in my hands. I opened it carefully and saw a letter and a small key tucked safely inside. I opened the letter and read it.

  My Darling Angel,

  I want you to know how much I love you and how proud I am of you. I fell in love with you before you were even born. You have grown to be a strong and beautiful woman. I want you to know how sorry I am for not protecting you. I should have protected you from your father after he turned to alcohol after your mother’s death, and I should have locked you safely in my house after your father’s funeral. I knew what was going on with you and Jim, and I turned a blind eye. Please forgive me, my sweet Angel.

  This key belongs to a safe deposit box at my bank. I have closed out all of my bank accounts and left some personal items in the safe deposit box for you. I want you to use the items and get as far away from Jim as you can. I love you more than anything in this entire world. I want you to be safe and happy. I knew you would never take anything from me while I was alive, so I am giving this to you now. I fear that if you stay, things will only get worse. I couldn’t help you while I was alive, but I am helping you now. Pumpkin, this is your new beginning. Please take it. Hide the key and use it as soon as it is safe for you to. Do not be afraid. I am here with you!

  I love you, my beautiful Angel,

  Aunt Rosie xoxoxo

  I put my head in my hands and cried until there were no more tears. I could barely move. I was exhausted from reading the letter and the emotional rollercoaster that followed. I needed to pull myself together before Jim got home from work. I burned the letter, so he couldn’t find a trace of it, hid the key in a pair of shoes in my closet, showered, and dressed. I prepared Jim’s favorite dinner before he got home so he would not suspect that something was bothering me.

  The next morning, before Jim left work, I told him I needed to get groceries, drop off his clothes at the cleaners, and go to the doctor. He left before I did. I arrived at Aunt Rosie’s bank 45 minutes later. My hands were shaking. I was le
d into a small private room with the bank manager. I gave him my safe deposit box key and he used his key with mine to open the locked safe. He removed the still locked box, handed it to me and led me into a small private room. I slowly unlocked the box with the key Aunt Rosie left me and opened it slowly. I was shocked at what I found in it. The first thing I saw was a deed to her cottage in Florida with my name on it. There was a title to a car registered in Florida, also with my name on it. There was an envelope stuffed full with hundred-dollar bills, a life insurance policy for my aunt with me listed as the beneficiary, some CDs, saving bonds, and IRAs. Lifting each item up, I placed everything neatly on the table beside the box. I saw pictures of my Mom and Aunt Rosie when they were children, some old letters, and cards from my grandma. There was some jewelry that I didn’t even know Aunt Rosie had. In the very bottom of the box was another sealed envelope with my name on it. With shaky hands I slowly opened the envelope. Inside was another letter from Aunt Rosie:

  My Precious Angel,

  I am so proud of you. If you are reading this, that means you have made the first step. You are one step closer to your new beginning. No more tears, Pumpkin. You hold your head up and smile that beautiful smile of yours. You are stronger than you think. A little bit longer and you will have your freedom and happiness back. I want you to drive my car to Florida. Use only cash on your trip there. Jim will be able to track your spending through your credit cards. When you get to Florida, the beach house will be ready for you. The neighbors have cared for it in my absence. You remember Carl and Josephine Morgan? They still live next door and are expecting you. If you need anything, you call them. They will look after you and guide you. Moving to a new city can be overwhelming. They have lived there their whole lives and know where everything is and how to get there. Here is Carl’s phone number if you need anything. Carl Morgan 941-555-5555. Do not hesitate to call him. When you get to Florida, you cash in the life insurance policies. Keep the IRAs, saving bonds, and CDs to use later. There is enough cash to keep you going for a while. Call your uncle when you get there and let him know you made it safely. He is worried about you. You are not alone, Pumpkin. I am here with you.

  I Love You,

  Aunt Rosie xoxoxo

  I pondered her words. Could I do this? Could I really get my second chance, a new beginning? Aunt Rosie just lived in a small house on a limited income. She was a model in her younger years and later owned her own quilting business. Aunt Rosie and Uncle Raúl had inherited some money from my grandparents after my Mom died. She had invested her money very well and lived a very simple life. Her only splurge was the cottage in Florida.

  After a few cleansing breaths, I emptied the safe deposit box and put everything in my purse. I decided that today is the day I get my life back. I needed to be careful not to leave a trail. I parked my car, which was in Jim’s name, at the mall, and then I took a cab back to Aunt Rosie’s house. I packed a few items from her house that I had left there, and headed to Florida in Aunt Rosie’s car. How long would I have before he realizes I’m gone? Two hours? Six hours? I had no idea, but I needed to be long gone before he realized I was not coming home.

  I am startled awake by my alarm clock. It is 6:30 a.m. The sun is already shining, and I feel more rested than I have in months. I lie there a few more minutes before I get up and get started for the day. I have plans for today, and I am looking forward to them.

  Mason

  Leaving the club and driving to work, I can’t help but think back to that beautiful girl in the club. The way her hips moved to the music, her beautiful smile, and those long legs. Forget her, Mason, you don’t need any more drama in your life, I tell myself.

  I pull into the parking garage at the hospital at 10 p.m., grab my workbag and head inside. I am greeted with smiles from my coworkers, pats on the back from the previous shift, who are more excited about leaving than actually seeing me, and a cup of Joe from the charge nurse, Carla.

  “How’s it going, Carla?” I ask.

  “Uneventful so far, but it’s still early in the shift,” she replies with a smirk.

  Oh, how true that statement is. Carla, the other staff members, and I head into the report room to get report from the previous shift.

  Dr. Saturday looks like a truck just ran over him. His eyes are bloodshot and he is sporting a 5 o’clock shadow. His clothes are wrinkled, and he has dried blood on the top of his shoes — a telltale sign that shit had hit the fan on his shift.

  We get report and discover they had a heart attack victim who didn’t make it. That explains the look on Dr. Saturday’s face. As doctors we want to save the world, but because people are mortals, it’s impossible. When we lose a patient, we feel like failures. There is nothing worse than telling family members that although you did everything you could, it just wasn’t enough. We finish with report and the previous shift leaves. I want to say something to Dr. Saturday before he leaves, but there is nothing for me to say to him. He needs to work it out in his head. It will take some time, but he will see it was God’s will.

  Carla and I make our rounds triaging the patients. We see the most critical patients first, assigning rooms to the ones who need to be admitted and release the ones who can go home. We have a few sick kids, a couple of people who need stitched up after a bar fight, and an elderly man who is suffering from symptoms of a stroke. After we get them squared away, we are able to sit down and enjoy a cup of coffee together.

  We have worked together the last five years. Carla is an excellent nurse and makes the night go by a little smoother when she’s here. I love working with her and requested that they move her to my rotation. I never told her that and she doesn’t need to know that tidbit. Knowing her, it will go straight to her head, and I don’t need that!

  Carla chats about her kids and becoming a grandmother again, in September. Hard to believe she has children that old. She seems to never have a care in the world. That’s what I love about her. Easy going and hard working. She loves her job and is excellent at it. She knows what needs to be done before being told. She often has what I need before I tell her I need it.

  We get paged on the intercom — they are bringing in two people who were in a motor vehicle accident. Tossing our cups into the trash, we head to the trauma room to prepare for their arrival.

  At the end of our shift, I thank everyone for a job well done. We give report to the oncoming shift and say our goodbyes. We finished our shift without incident. Can’t ask for more than that. Grabbing my workbag, I head out the door towards my car.

  I live in a penthouse across from the Unconditional Surrender Statue that overlooks Sarasota Bay. Three penthouses are on the top floor. A secured elevator opens into a spacious foyer that we share.

  I arrive at my penthouse a little after 8 a.m. I toss my keys, wallet, and cell phone in the glass bowl on the table by the entryway door. I am exhausted. I get the coffee pot ready with the automatic timer set for 11 a.m., shower, and then slip into a pair of boxers and head to bed. I pray sleep finds me quickly.

  The alarm goes off, and I discover that I have a throbbing headache. I squint my eyes and look at the clock. Two hours of sleep just isn’t enough. I have to get ready for a day of boating with friends and a stranger. God, another blind date. Sara and Brea want so badly for me to be with someone. I wish they understood I am fine and don’t mind being single. I guess they want me to have the love and happiness they have. If I didn’t love Sara and Brea, I would refuse every attempt they made to fix me up.