So, I took Julia’s advice. Once the feed was over, I dressed, packed up her equipment, grabbed my computer bag with my laptops and emergency documents, and headed out. I didn’t need anything in the house, really, since I had replaced even our clothes. It hurt my pride to return to Victim’s Assistance, to admit that I was wrong. I thought that they would treat me differently because I blew it last time. That wasn’t the case.
Paula: I had hoped to never see you again. Naturally, I mean that in the best way.
me: I know. Sorry, that I didn’t follow through last time.
By now I was sniffling.
me: I thought that he could change. Now I know he never will.
Paula: Did you know that it usually takes eight times for people to leave? We’re used to this, but we try to encourage people to leave sooner.
For me, second time was the charm.
This time I made it onto the afternoon docket. Lily met me for lunch then went with me to the courthouse to watch Kylie just outside the doors. When I had my temporary order, good for just over a week, I rejoined them.
Lily: I’m so sorry.
me: Don’t be. This is the right thing to do. We both know it.
There were many hugs as we headed to the parking garage. I knew what I had to do this time. It was like the first time was a dry run and this was the real thing. And because it felt familiar, it wasn’t scary at all. The time until our final year long order was in place passed quickly at the extended stay hotel. Seeing him in person was the one challenge. When it was over, and I had been granted the permanent protection order, I left...surrounded by friends who ensured I made it to the vehicle safely.
Sometimes you can come home again; sometimes you learn to make a new home. That’s what we’re doing. Over time, I had come to realize that I was the one in control of my destiny, that I had the power to make my dreams come true. So, we’re doing it. We moved in with my mother until I had enough money saved, then we bought a boat. Sure, it’s a bit unconventional, but so are we.
Time will tell if I made the right decision, but already...my heart is healing, which would suggest that I am where I need to be to thrive. My happiness isn’t dependent upon a man. Would I still like one to share my happily ever after with? Maybe...eventually...in time, but not until I know that he’s the one, that he’s safe, that he is worth the risk to my heart.
Phone numbers:
National Domestic Violence Hotline
1-800-799-7233
1-800-787-3224 TTY
Help Line:
The DAIS Help Line provides crisis intervention, safety planning, support, information, and referrals to survivors of domestic abuse, their families, friends, other service providers, and the general public. The Help Line is the gateway to all other DAIS services. The Help Line is answered by trained volunteers and staff and is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The Help Line can be reached at 608-251-4445 or 800-747-4045 (toll free in Dane County).
Websites:
National Domestic Violence Website
http://www.thehotline.org/help/resources/
http://www.surviving-domestic-violence.com
http://www.dove-wa.org
http://abuseintervention.org/help/services-resources/
http://www.enddomesticabuse.org/index.html
Nicki has lived in Charlotte, North Carolina with her children for the past twelve years and her husband for the past four. Her journey has barely begun and she has loved every minute of it. Every day of her life seems to bring new adventures, some bigger, better, shinier and prettier than others. She's still getting used to that new life smell she's experiencing, a combination of hope, love, and happiness. (The perfect scents to build a new life on...)
For fun, she spends time with those she cares about, cooks, reads, writes, and especially lives to travel. The current travel goal: visit every Margaritaville. Three down! (Eleven to go?)
In May, Nicki started the blog Stories and Swag to promote authors. Several months later, she started Stories and Swag Tours, a blog tour company offering cover reveals, release blitzes, release parties on Facebook, and blog tours. In addition, she started Dominatrix Publishing, a boutique publishing company, to help other authors achieve publishing success.
Her writing can also be found on Shine, where she is a Shine Parenting Guru and an award winning Yahoo! Contributor on YourWisdom as the relationship and dating expert. In addition, she has been published by McClatchy News in their syndicated papers.
Check her out on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/NicoleAndrewsMoore.
Or follow her on Twitter: @thenicknick.
Or email: [email protected]
Her author website: http://nicoleamoore.weebly.com
Become a fan on Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6870143.Nicole_Andrews_Moore
JB McGee…never ever could I do this without you. You are the best mentor, friend, beta, and graphic designer ever. Big hugs.
Renee Giraldy…I’m going to make you proud. I promise! Point me in the right direction and I will do as you say every time.
Danielle, Tammy, Jen G.…thank you for hanging in there with me, especially at the end. That’s when it always gets really good, right?
Team Nick’s Chicks…you amaze me with your dedication, your ingenuity, and your willingness to help and promote. So much love and appreciation for all you do.
“So Mom...” She’s unpacking the few belongings we have. We’ve learned to travel lightly. “You said there’s a creek or something close by?”
She glances over her shoulder with a smile I’ve become familiar with. It’s one that tries to exemplify strength and happiness, but it’s broken. “Yeah, sweetie.” She pivots and starts using her hands like they are signs. “If you go out the front door, take a right. Go all the way to the end of the street, take another right. When you get to the end of that road, then the creek will be on you left.”
I nod, and I try to smile back, but I just can’t give it a full smile. It’s hard when the only person you love in life hurts. “Thank you.” I walk to face her. I wrap my arms around her small, frail body. “I’ll be back in a little bit. I have a good feeling about this place.”
She puts my head in between her hands. “Love you to the moon and back, son. Me, too.”
There’s just something in her voice that’s not convincing. I try to ignore it. Maybe if I will myself to believe this is the last stop on our runaway train then it will be.
As I walk to the creek, I notice all the houses in this neighborhood are pretty worn and tattered. I kick the loose gravel and then realize that some of those rocks would make for great skipping across the water. So I stop and reach down to fill my pockets.
Rocks. I have a love hate relationship with them. I think about this the entire way to the creek. My need to release the emotions building to an unbearable level.
When I get there, I see a couple of large stones big enough for sitting. It makes me smile. It’s a cozy, quaint place. Mom did good, I think to myself.
I let the first rock fly across the air and watch it skip across the shimmering water. Then I close my eyes. I can see the memories flashing as clear as the day I lived the experience. My dad always stumbled into the house, completely drunk. The look he would give my mom is not one I can forget, no matter how many times I have tried. It was one of disgust and disapproval. Even though I was young, I’d learned this look and what came after it.
It seemed that no matter how spotless my mom kept the house, or how hot the food was when he came inside, he beat her. She couldn’t do anything right. I remember sitting in the corner of the kitchen during these times, my knees tucked to my chest, rocking and crying, no matter my age. Scared is an understatement. Terrified would be putting it mildly. What was really sad is that I loved my dad, despite this. Because when he wasn’t drunk, he was my hero.
This day was different. I had overheard my mom earlier on the phone with someone
. I heard her telling the experiences we’d lived. When she hung up, she wiped her tear-stained eyes, and pulled me into her arms as she sobbed. “Oh Stone,” she whispered into my hair.
I remember not knowing what to say or how to feel. I just stood there and let her squeeze me.
A few seconds later, she pushed me away. “Look at Momma.” She tilted my chin up so my eyes connected with hers. My mom has beautiful brown eyes. They are speckled with glints of orange, gold, and green. I didn’t get her eyes. I got my dad’s eyes. She smiled, “Stone, Momma wants you to go pack all of your favorite things into the bag I’m going to give you. Can you do that for me?”
I smiled back. “Where are we going?” I asked.
“We’re going on a secret adventure.” She put her trembling finger up to her lips. “Shh. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
Looking back on that moment, I think even at such a young age, I knew that we were leaving and never looking back. I nodded my head. “Okay.”
She took my hand and led me down the hall to get the bag she had mentioned. I crammed as much of my stuff into it as possible. She quickly put a few outfits in there for me. Then she went to her room and did the same, except she chose to stuff pictures and keepsakes that I now know are important to her in the bag.
What neither of us expected was for him to come home early. He never came home early.
Mom moved the curtain away from the window slightly. “Stone. C’mon we gotta go,” she said as she extended her hand out to me.
I placed my hand in hers and she pulled me. We ran together through the opposite door he usually used. He must have heard us or something because when we turned the corner, it was like smashing into a beam of steel. Our bodies bounced back, and mom pushed me behind her as if she was a human shield.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He grumbled.
She put her hands behind her back and opened her palm to reveal the keys. “Stone, run!”
So I did. I ran and jumped into the car, starting it. I heard a sound, but I wasn’t sure until later that evening when I overheard her talking that I realized she’d finally defended herself against him. A punch square in the jaw and a knee to groin.
Mom jumped into the car, immediately locking the doors, and put the car in reverse. Except before she could back up, he’d already reached the car. I think we both expected that he’d try to break out the window to get to us. Looking back, I know that’s what I expected. He didn’t. He climbed under the car and yelled, “If you’re leaving, you have to kill me first.”
“Momma, no! Please don’t. Please don’t kill him.” I cried.
She rolled her eyes, exasperated. It was as if she knew that he was bluffing. She rolled the window down just a tiny sliver. “I’m counting to three and then backing up. Don’t make me do this, because I will. You’re scaring Stone. Just let us leave.”
He didn’t say a word. He just sat there.
All I remember was sobbing. This was not the kind of adventure I had envisioned just a few minutes earlier. It was the beginning of a life filled with fear and running.
“One,” she screamed.
Nothing.
“Two.”
Still nothing.
She closed her eyes and took a really deep breath. My eyes were fixed on her every move. “Mom, no.”
“Three,” she calmly said as she started easing her foot off the brake.
“NO! No, no. Please no.”
Dad yelled a few choice words and came out from under the car in a split second. He started banging on the windows like I’d originally expected.
I continued to plead. I know deep down I knew that was the last time I’d see my father. “I don’t wanna go. I wanna stay.”
Mom had started to cry by this point. “Stone, my sweet baby boy. Momma’s so sorry. We have to do this.” She quickly pulled out of the driveway. As we she put the car in drive, the sound of glass shattering was like fingernails being scratched on a chalkboard. It made my skin crawl. My mom threw her hand over my head and yelled, “Look out!” She pressed the gas pedal and the sound of the wheels on the pavement squealed as we distanced ourselves from him. I looked over my shoulder and watched as my father, my house, my childhood, my life, and everything about me became a blur. Within minutes, it was gone. I was gone.
“What was that?” Mom asked.
I turned my body so I could see into the backseat. “A huge rock,” I answered.
She swallowed. “We’re lucky that didn’t hit us. I’ll have to get that fixed when we get to a safe place.” It was like she was thinking out loud. Then she continued with something I didn’t expect. “Baby, I need you to start going by a different name.”
“I’m not a baby and why?” I countered. I remember this part because Mom flashed a quick, rare smile. “I know you’re not, but you know you’ll always be Momma’s baby.” She rubbed my leg. “Because we need to recreate who we are so he can’t ever find us again, so he can’t hurt us ever again.”
“Daddy never hurt me, though.”
She kept looking straight ahead at the road. I noticed she was frequently watching her rear view mirror. I glanced over my shoulder. He wasn’t behind us. I reminded her of my statement. “But Dad never hurt me.”
She looked over quickly. “Not physically, but emotionally. You should have never had to experience what you did. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to leave sooner.”
I started to fidget with my fingers. I didn’t understand what she was talking about then, but I do now. “I love you, Momma.” Then I peered up through my lashes. “What about the name Daniel?”
“Why Daniel?” She asked.
“Because Daniel got to hang out with lions. Because Daniel was brave.”
She let her hand dance in my dark hair. “And you’re certainly brave, Daniel.”
“What should I call you?”
She looked puzzled. “Uh, Momma still works.”
“No I mean what if someone asks what my mom’s name is?”
“How about Amanda?”
“Like Manda Panda?” I laughed.
“Sure. Manda Panda.” She smiled. “I guess we need a new last name, too.”
“Mulligan?” I suggested.
“Mulligan?” She repeated, as if testing the sound of it. “What made you think of Mulligan?” She hesitantly laughed.
I shrugged. “Some cartoon character or something I saw once in a movie.”
“Ah, well Mulligan it is.” She extended a hand out to me, off of the steering wheel. “I’m Amanda Mulligan. It’s nice to meet you Daniel Mulligan.”
I chuckled and placed my hand in hers. “Nice to meet you. I think I’ll just call you Mom if that’s okay?”
She took her hand back and resumed its original position. “That would be lovely.”
Shards of My Heart Page 19