I've Never Been to Vegas, but My Luggage Has: Mishaps and Miracles on the Road to Happily Ever After

by Hale, Mandy

The night of the planned dinner, Steven never came home from work to pick me up. I never heard a peep from him. He disappeared into the night, presumably with this woman. It was completely and utterly baffling. I called him, texted him, left voice mails, and got no response. That is, until six the next morning, when he finally reappeared. Not in person. In my text message inbox. “Sorry, got caught up at work and then went on to dinner with Anna without you because I figured you were already asleep.” That was it. No explanation about why he never came home or where he had spent the night. Or why he had spent the night. It was clear to me what was going on, and the implication of his infidelity devastated me. Were the lies and the rage and the drinking and the hitting not enough? Did he have to humiliate me further by cheating on me?

  Eventually we had it out, and he claimed he, Anna, and his friend John had gone to dinner and then stayed the night at John’s house because they all had too much to drink. This still didn’t explain why he had cut me out of the dinner or why he didn’t just call to tell me any of this, especially knowing how much I would worry. Steven swore up, down, and sideways that he did not cheat on me, but I wasn’t hearing it.

  “Mandy, you have to believe me. She’s just a friend!” he pleaded. “I would never cheat on you!”

  This time, though, I was unmoved by his empty apologies. I told him to get out and not come back. I had put up with a lot, but blatant infidelity was not something I was willing to turn the other cheek to.

  That was the beginning of one of the most unbelievable and bizarre incidents to ever occur to me. It’s so bizarre, in fact, I’m almost embarrassed to write about it. It sounds more like something that would happen on the Jerry Springer Show than something that would happen to me. But in the spirit of transparency, just so you can fully appreciate the sheer depth of Steven’s lies and dishonesty, here’s what happened next.

  Steven started begging me to let him take a lie detector test to prove he hadn’t cheated on me. The first time he brought it up, in an e-mail, since I was unwilling to speak to him, I laughed until I cried. Then I just cried. Was this guy serious? How many more levels of complete and utter lunacy was he going to ask me to descend to?

  But he wasn’t giving up. E-mail after e-mail poured in, with statistics about the accuracy of lie detector tests along with his list of reasons of why I should go along while he submitted to one. I continued to dismiss him. This was insane. I would not allow myself to stoop to such shenanigans for someone who wouldn’t know the truth if it smacked him right across the face.

  After two weeks of hounding e-mails, though, I was ready to reconsider. He clearly wasn’t going to give up this fight, and if nothing else, this would surely provide some much-needed comic relief. So I called him.

  “If you are determined to do this,” I asserted, “you find someone to administer the test, you pay for it, and I will go along and watch this train wreck happen since you are obviously not going to leave me alone until I do.”

  He paused. “Really?” he asked in a tone that I thought bordered on panic-stricken. I honestly don’t think he expected me to give in and agree to his little plan, so when I did, he realized he was going to have to pony up and actually follow through with it.

  “Yes, really,” I said. “Call me with the details, and tell me where and when to be there.”

  A few days later I was in the seedy-looking office of a private detective somewhere in a part of Nashville that I hope to never return to. And sitting across from me was Steven, sleeve rolled up, eyes as big as silver dollars, ready to strap himself to a machine to prove, once and for all, that he might be a liar, but he wasn’t a cheater.

  Except (and I know you’re going to be truly shocked by this news) he only managed to dig an even deeper hole for himself. After the test was over, the administrator called us both in to go over the results.

  “See these lines here?” the administrator asked, pointing at a series of wavy lines zigzagging across the paper. “These show a high level of deception.”

  I shot Steven a look across the table.

  “Really?” I asked. “And on what question?”

  The administrator looked over at Steven with a withering look. “The question that inquired about whether or not Steven has been physically involved with another woman since starting his relationship with you.”

  Oh, the irony.

  Steven started to angrily protest as I stood up and shook the administrator’s hand.

  “Thank you, sir, for telling me all I need to know. Good day.” I gathered my purse and my coat and turned to leave. “Oh and, Steven? Good-bye.”

  Thus began weeks of barraging e-mails from Steven about the inaccuracy of polygraph tests. I’m embarrassed to say that I actually started reading some of the articles he sent through and eventually convinced myself that there had to be some glitch that caused the test to say Steven was lying when he wasn’t. I’m even more embarrassed to admit that I took Steven back—again. Yes, despite his glaring lies and raging temper and cheating ways, I allowed him to move back into our apartment and back into my life. It seemed there was nothing Steven could do to hurt me badly enough to make me walk away once and for all.

  But God was about to intervene.

  Although my prayer time and relationship with God had clearly suffered since I moved in with Steven, I still spent time with God regularly and talked to Him about things going on in my life. I don’t think my problem was that I stopped talking to God; I think it’s that I stopped listening to Him. In late summer 2009, God started to lay something very heavily on my heart—a realization that I wanted to ignore but knew I couldn’t hide from as easily as I was hiding from my closest friends and family.

  “If you don’t get out of this relationship with Steven, you are going to end up hurt badly, or worse,” I felt like God was saying.

  Still, despite everything I had been through with Steven, I felt powerless to leave. I was scared, uncertain, and so beaten down by the constant arguing, violence, and lies that I felt trapped in a prison of my own making. I wasn’t yet ready to heed God’s urging, so instead I began to cry out to Him like never before. At night, when Steven was in the living room watching TV or tapping away on his laptop, I would sneak away to the bathroom, lock the door, and fall onto my knees on the hard tile, begging God to give me the strength to walk away, once and for all.

  “God, I know I have turned my back on You, disappointed You, and disobeyed You, and I humbly ask for Your forgiveness,” I would pray. “And I know I don’t deserve Your mercy, but I am asking for it anyway. Please help me find the strength to walk away from this toxic situation. Please give me the courage and boldness I need to disentangle myself from this dark relationship and find my way back to the light. When I am weak, I pray that You would be my strength. And I am so very weak right now. Where You lead, I will follow. Just show me where to go. Show me what to do. And give me the courage to be obedient.”

  Night after night, I prayed this prayer. And night after night, as God supernaturally conspired to bring the perfect circumstances together to ensure my exit from the relationship, I slowly started to feel myself growing a little stronger.

  Two events happened simultaneously to bring this prayer to fruition. First, Jeremy’s sister, Erin, with whom I had become dear friends several years prior, had moved back to Arizona and was getting married. She had asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding, and I was honored to say yes and thrilled to get to travel to Arizona to see her. Originally Steven was supposed to go with me, and we had discussed the idea of flying out West together. As the date drew closer, however, he decided he couldn’t take that much time off work, and my dad volunteered to be my travel partner instead.

  My dad and I decided that since my history with airplanes was less than stellar, we would both take a week off work and drive out to Arizona on a father-daughter road trip. It would be a much-needed break for me and would give me time and space to clear my head, heal, spend time with my dad, and see some beautifu
l sights along the way.

  A few nights before we were set to leave, though, something drastic happened.

  After another heated argument over me catching Steven in yet another lie, I got out of bed to get a drink of water. His cell phone happened to be lying on the kitchen counter. Desperate to know the truth and to find out once and for all whether or not he had cheated on me (I had never gotten over the failed polygraph), I picked up his phone and started going through it. Mind you, I do not recommend or condone this type of behavior at all. He was the first and only guy I have ever deployed these tactics with, and I will never do it again. But after being repeatedly lied to and kicked around and insulted for months on end, knowing in my heart that he had cheated on me was the final indignity. I just needed proof. Proof that would finally make me strong enough to walk away.

  At that moment, Steven came into the kitchen and saw me holding his phone. In a fit of white-hot anger, he picked me up and threw me onto the floor as hard as he could, pinning me to the floor and wrapping his hands around my neck, choking me. I was kicking and flailing with as much strength as I could muster to get him off of me, but he was short, stocky, and strong, and my 125-pound frame and tiny fists did little damage. Finally I started screaming at the top of my lungs, which caused him to grab my face and cover both my mouth and my nose with his hand, positioning himself in such a way that I couldn’t breathe. I was getting no oxygen. In a panic, as the blood began to drain from my face, I found enough gumption to bite down on his finger as hard as I could, which caused him to yelp like a wounded puppy and back away from me. Gasping for breath, I ran to the phone and dialed the first number I could think of. 9-1-1.

  That night Steven was arrested. The premonition God had laid on my heart weeks earlier played on repeat in my mind. “If you don’t get out of this relationship with Steven, you are going to end up hurt badly, or worse.” I realized I could have easily been killed, and the thought of it made me shudder.

  By the time Steven was released from jail, I was well on my way to Arizona with my dad. I left him a note on our kitchen counter: “I don’t want to speak to you while I’m gone. We will talk when I get back.”

  Over the next three days, I took in the sights, sounds, and smells of the wide-open road, feeling a sense of freedom I hadn’t felt in years. My dad and I drove through the flat, dusty plains of Texas and the beautiful mesas of New Mexico, finally reaching the rolling deserts of Arizona. I could feel God’s presence all around as I took in His beautiful handiwork. Traveling those roads with my dad, sometimes singing, sometimes listening to audiobooks, and sometimes sitting in companionable silence as we rolled along, was like chicken soup for my soul.

  It was equally wonderful to arrive in Arizona and dash right over to Erin’s house to see her, Jeremy, and their entire family. Everyone was so friendly and welcoming, and though we had left behind gray and chilly October skies in Tennessee, the sun in Arizona was as warm and comforting as its people.

  Over the next two days, we feted Erin’s wedding, and I had the great privilege of witnessing many beautiful walking, breathing portrayals of love in action—of healthy relationships—of marriages that were strong, successful, and thriving. It’s almost as though God wanted to show me examples of the kind of love I should be striving for, instead of the kind I was currently settling for. Erin’s relationship with her new husband, Keith, was particularly moving. You could see the joy in both of their faces when they simply caught each other’s eyes from across the room. His whole being would light up at the mere sight of her. It filled my heart with hope. It helped me see what was possible. It was what I so desperately needed in that moment to finally make me realize how much I had been settling for rocks when God wanted to bring me diamonds.

  The festivities culminated in a lively reception, which took place outside under the stars at Erin’s mom’s house. White lights hung all around, a cool breeze tickled my skin, and I could scarcely recall the last time I was so happy. I danced until I nearly wore holes in the bottoms of my shoes, and then I kicked them off and danced some more. Jeremy joined in on “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” swinging me wildly around the dance floor. I was dizzy with laughter and full of love for my friends, and I never wanted the night to end.

  I had stopped dancing long enough to grab a sip of water and was standing off to the side of the dance floor, watching the joy and the wonderful chaos all around me, when Erin’s new father-in-law, Shep, came over with a smile. He was a kind and fun-loving man with an infectious laugh, and in the two days I had been around, I had already witnessed how he loved to tease people and bring smiles to their faces. Maybe he caught a fleeting glimpse of sadness cross my face in that moment, I don’t know, but he leaned against the pole beside me and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “So, what’s your story, Mandy?” he boomed in his kindly way. “Are you married?”

  “No, sir,” I responded with a rueful smile. “Not yet. I have a boyfriend, though.”

  “But he’s not here.” It was more a statement than a question.

  I shook my head. “No, sir. He couldn’t make it.” I looked down at my water. “He’s not a very nice guy, though.”

  Shep stood quietly for a minute, scratching his chin.

  “Well, then you know what I say?” he said finally, giving me a wink. “I say you head on back to Tennessee and kick his butt to the curb.” He chuckled, patted me on the back, and walked away.

  I stood there for a moment considering this advice, then grinned broadly and rejoined my friends on the dance floor. It was time for Erin to toss the bouquet!

  As luck or fate or providence would have it, I caught Erin’s bouquet that night. And I think everyone at the reception felt the magic the moment my fingers closed around it. It was like God was sending me a sign from heaven to restore my hope, my faith, and my belief in happy endings. Erin turned to look and see who caught it, and we both burst into laughter, tears of joy running down both our faces. I have a wonderful picture of the two of us hugging the moment after I caught the bouquet, my face lit up with laughter and happiness. It’s one of the most precious portraits of friendship I have.

  It’s also the portrait of the moment I found myself again. Somewhere on that dance floor in Arizona, thousands of miles from home, surrounded by people I loved, and celebrating one of the most significant moments of my friend’s life, the broken pieces of my soul were put back together and sealed with friendship, laughter, and love. God knew exactly what it would take to get me back to me: a trip to Arizona. And He orchestrated it as only He can.

  The next day my dad and I left Arizona. And as we rolled down the highway later that night, I gazed out the window and up at the pitch-black, velvety sky. The lack of street lamps or city lights made the stars look as bright as diamonds. As I watched, praying silently to God, one star broke away from the rest and shot across the sky in a brilliant silvery streak, confirming what I already knew in my heart to be true. My fervent prayers, spoken in secret to God from my bathroom floor night after night, month after month, had been answered. I knew I was finally strong enough to walk away.

  When I got home to my apartment the next evening, I walked right in and ended the relationship with Steven, once and for all. “I don’t know much about love,” I told him, “but I know I deserve better than this.” He looked stunned, shell-shocked even. I honestly think he believed he could do anything to me and I would stick around.

  Since our apartment was in my name, I told Steven to pack up his stuff and be gone by the time I got home from work the next day. Even though I’m pretty sure he thought I was going to change my mind, like I had the other five thousand times before, by the time I returned home from work the next evening, all his belongings were gone. My apartment was completely stripped of his presence. Since we had combined our furnishings to decorate the apartment, the missing pieces here and there created an odd effect, almost like looking at a gap-toothed child. Everything appeared essentially the same on the s
urface, but if you looked a little closer, you would find a nail where a painting once hung, a TV stand with no TV, an end table with no lamp. I still had the foundation of an apartment, but not the trimmings, bells, and whistles that make a house a home. It was rather representative of what was going on inside my soul. Steven had taken a part of me here and a piece of me there, leaving me feeling a bit vacant and strangely unfinished; yet the foundation of who I was couldn’t be shaken. Philippians 1:6 says, “He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion.” And though at that moment I had absolutely no idea how God was going to carry out His good work in me, as I walked through the rooms of my half-stripped apartment later that night, the one thing I knew for certain was that the end of my relationship with Steven was the beginning of everything else.

  Chapter 13

  Grounded in God

  It was October 13, 2009, when I ended my relationship with Steven and took my first uncertain but brave steps back into the world as a single girl for the first time in a year and a half. And if you count all the chaos and confusion with Mr. E before that, this was really the first time I had felt truly single, free, and unattached in more than three years. It was scary, a little overwhelming, and completely wonderful.

  Over the next couple of months, I found the courage to dream new dreams and have new adventures and restore old relationships. I saw a counselor. I found healing. I adopted a wonderful seven-year-old white, fluffy, and cantankerous Persian by the name of Jeeves from a rescue shelter. But most of all I worked on restoring my relationship with God, and with myself. I owed both of us a big apology for putting up with so much abuse for so long. When you’re in the midst of an abusive relationship and being constantly demeaned and degraded, it’s hard to remember how you got there or imagine a time when you would be able to break free. But your reaction about the ending of something will go a long way in telling you your true feelings about it. Did I have a few moments of sadness, and even doubt, about walking away from my relationship with Steven? Absolutely. But was it enough to make me return to the scene of the crime? Absolutely not! Endings, even endings that need to happen, always come with a certain amount of sadness. But trust me on this one: it’s better to face a few fleeting moments of sadness any day than to spend a lifetime of misery clinging to the wrong person.