My Life in Reverse

by Casey Harvell

  7 months ago…

  He’s not happy that I’m going away, but he knows he can’t stop me and doesn’t try. He does step up his guilt-trips and manipulation, but they don’t work anymore. What’s scary is the less they work, the more desperate he becomes. I walk a fine line between not leading him on and not getting myself hurt...or worse…

  The day arrives. It’s time to go. The combination of excitement and nervousness almost breaks me. I begin with a drive to the train station and park my car discreetly in long-term parking. I grab my stuff and buy my train ticket. It’s a cold rainy day, but I don’t feel it. Even the ice-covered river is beautiful.

  I can tell my favorite adult is nervous about all this travelling I’m doing solo. He stays in constant contact. I send him a pic of the rainy river. He likes it as much as I do.

  Once the train arrives I navigate through the busy rainy city and find my ride. I reserved a shuttle to take me to the airport. At least my flight is direct.

  Airport security hates me. I flat out tell them my last flight was pre-9/11 and I have no knowledge of liquid measure restrictions. I check my bag regardless—so much for only packing a carry-on.

  I have my computer so I work during the flight. I snap a picture of the clouds from above, because the sky is kind of our thing.

  The plane lurches to the ground a few hours later and reality sets in. My nerves are a cluster-fuck. What if my favorite adult thinks the same way about me that he does? What if I really am all those horrible things? Only my curiosity overwhelms everything else.

  I grab my bag off the carousel and walk out the airport doors. It only takes a second to spot him. My favorite adult. He’s taller than I’d thought, but then I’m kind of littleish myself.

  “Hi,” I feel my cheeks heat despite my grin.

  “Hey!” He smiles.

  I give him a hug and he takes my bag. It’s entirely surreal to be here with him.

  Surreal—and fucking amazeballs.

  A highly sensitive and empathetic person who feels and often takes on the emotions of others often at the expense of their own emotional well-being.[11]

  The seeds of doubt

  Being dug in deep

  Sprouting roots

  Full of deceit

  Empty words

  From lips that lie

  The games you play

  Are about to go awry

  You dug deep down

  Into my core

  Planting seeds

  Of doubt and insecurity

  Making me feel

  Inadequate and unworthy

  Questioning myself

  And my foundation

  You broke me down

  One lie at a time

  You neglected to see

  That I could grow

  Past your lies

  On my own

  Continue to lie

  The proof only fuels me

  You gave me roots

  Then tried to drown me

  Left me at rock bottom

  Withering and rotting

  When you add a little sunshine

  To dry up all the excess

  Slowly but surely

  That fragile little flower

  You started to grow

  Then left bent over

  Dying in the fertilizer

  Will strengthen its stem

  Start to stand tall

  Flourish in the sunlight

  And shine more beautiful

  Then anyone thought

  They would ever see

  What once was killing me

  Now gives me strength

  To continue to grow

  Leaving you in my shadow

  As just a mistake

  On my path to finding out

  Who I really am

  Not who you

  Tried to make to be

  ~Julz~

  (c) JMM 16

  7 months ago (continued)…

  It’s about a forty-five minute ride from the airport to his city. It’s cold AF, but I can barely feel it. I’m too busy trying to wrap my head around the fact that my favorite adult sits next to me.

  We talk a little, but I think he feels the same surreal shock that I do. He asks if I’m hungry which I very much am, so we stop for sushi.

  “I can’t believe I’m here,” I admit from across the table.

  He laughs. “Me, either. Glad you are, though.”

  “Me, too.”

  We get to his place and the butterflies in my belly are in full gear. They’re not the bad kind, but boy are they strong.

  He must pick up on my nervousness. “You’re probably exhausted. Want to watch some TV and relax?”

  “Sure,” I agree.

  We watch this kick-ass show where some garage makes a real Hot Wheels car. When it’s over, he looks at me. “Bed?”

  I nod. “I’m going to get changed first.”

  The first thing I do when I’m alone is tell my brain to shut the fuck up. I can’t deny my attraction to this man, but I’m not a booty-call kind of girl. Even if it has been months upon months since I’ve gotten laid. Gah! That’s not helping.

  My tank top and leggings aren’t super sexy, but they’re comfortable AF—especially after a day of travelling. I find him in his room already in bed and slide in next to him.

  “You weren’t lying. Your bed is super comfy.” I say. He’s bragged about it a lot in the past.

  “Told you.” I swear I can see him smirk in the dark.

  “Thanks for having me.” I say.

  “Thanks for coming.”

  I smile. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  The next morning…

  We may have fallen asleep hardly touching, but when I wake up it’s in a tangle of his legs and arms. It feels so damn good and so damn right that I almost cry.

  I slept better than I have in forever. Maybe it’s jetlag, but more likely it’s feeling secure for once.

  Confession? I’m horny and love morning sex, but contain myself. It’s still too soon, although I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last.

  He has work and I have a lot to get done myself. I spend the day with his big white fluffy dog and make a new best friend. It’s hard, but I do my best not to think of how temporary this is, how the clock fights my time here.

  Some people may think I’m nuts. I fell for a guy before I ever met him. I fell for so much more than his looks…I fell for his soul. Maybe that is crazy…but maybe it’s only crazy because it’s real.

  I don’t expect him to love me. I certainly don’t want to force anything that’s not there. I just want to enjoy being here while I can.

  The day passes quickly. I have a lot of my own work to catch up on. I do the dishes despite him telling me not to. It seems silly since I’m there and capable and all. When he comes home he cooks me dinner. We veg on the couch after until he asks me if I want to go to bed.

  Unlike last night, I curl up in his arms. I swear I can feel the good in this man. It does things to me. I begin to rub his chest. He begins to rub my back. I can’t contain it any longer and brush my lips to his.

  That’s all the invitation he needs. It starts off sweetly, but soon a need consumes us both. Our mouths move with fervor and our hands explore. He flips us around and his mouth moves to my throat, my chest—then lower still. It’s been so long since I’ve given myself to anyone and he knows this. He laps at my core and gently stretches me with his fingers. I come almost instantly.

  That’s not enough for him. He does it again and again. “The first time I saw your pussy, I knew I had to taste it.”

  All I can do is groan in response.

  I’m almost ready to beg him to fuck me when I feel him slide in. Now it’s his turn to groan. We freeze for a moment in unison, while I adjust to his size. He’s big—really big—and it feels incredible.

  And then he starts to move.

  I come again and again, eliciting a growl from deep in his
chest each time. This man is a machine. Nobody’s ever made me come like this before. I swear his cock was made just for me.

  An orgasm rips through me so deeply that it takes him with me. We collapse together and he takes me in his arms.

  I smile sleepily. “I’m really glad that I came.”

  He kisses my head. “Me, too.”

  3 days later…

  My time here passes too quickly. I get to meet his kid and we get along really well. I get a lot of work done, which is nice to not be behind. I miss my own kids hard, but the peace I find here is incomparable.

  Tomorrow is Sunday and I’m supposed to go home. We both kind of sulk over it. We spend more time than usual on the couch, cuddling and not wanting tomorrow to come.

  With my face buried in his chest, I can’t stop the tears that well in my eyes. “I don’t want to leave you.” I confess.

  His arms tighten around me. “I know.”

  “What if I came back?” I whisper so softly that I don’t even know if he hears me.

  “What do you mean?” He asks.

  “What if I moved out here?”

  “Are you crazy?” He asks with a chuckle.

  “Maybe.” I admit. “I mean I don’t want to if you don’t want me around—it’s okay. But I know I have to leave there, it’s not safe for me and the kids anymore. It’s time to go. And if I have to go somewhere, I’d like it to be here…by you.”

  He kisses the top of my head and squeezes me tightly. “Anything you need, I’m here.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  The next day…

  Torn. Literally, my heart tears down the middle. My heart wants to stay here and go home to my kids all at once.

  It’s a whole new kind of hell.

  There’s also not really any choice. It’s an inevitable thing that we both know but don’t want to face. I pack and get ready. I write a note on his mirror in lipstick. It says BBS.

  I hope it’s not a lie.

  When everything’s as done as it can be, I join him on the couch. We both procrastinate, as if it’ll stop my departure. Finally there’s no more ignoring it.

  I spend the ride to the airport trying not to cry. When we pull up to the doors, we each snap a pic together. It’s so fucking bittersweet to leave this man.

  I give him the biggest hug I can and the softest kiss I have. “I’ll see you soon.” I manage to say without bursting into tears.

  He reaches into his pocket. “I want you to take this. I’ve had it since I was little.” It’s a little pewter statue of the see-no-evil, hear-no-evil, speak-no-evil monkeys. I grip it tightly in my hand.

  “Thank you.”

  One more embrace and I go into the airport. At the desk they tell me I’m too late. I whip my phone out.

  “Hold on, I missed my flight lol. Don’t go yet!”

  “Uh-oh. Okay, I’m still out front.”

  The woman behind the counter must see my anxiety. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.” She tells me. “I can have you out on a flight tomorrow morning. Just make sure you’re here an hour early.”

  “Okay, thank you.” I agree. “Is there any charge?”

  “Nope, you’re all set.” She assures me.

  The definite downside to this is the static I’m sure to catch from the home front. But as much as I want to see my kids, another part of my soul rejoices at the prospect of one more day and night with my favorite adult. From the grin on his face when I meet him outside, he doesn’t mind keeping me for an extra day, either.

  That night…

  My oldest texts me, upset…

  This poor kid. It enrages me to know he tries to spy on our private conversation—a conversation between a mother and her child. He places so much unnecessary stress on their tiny shoulders to fit his own selfish needs. He’ll never put anyone before himself—never.

  7 months ago (the following day)…

  The trip home is hard. By the time I hit the train, the stress sets in.

  “Let me know when you get to your car safely.” My favorite adult messages. He’s been in touch all day.

  “I will.” I reply. “Hey?”

  “What’s up?”

  “Do me a favor? Don’t disappear on me? You matter. Usually when someone matters, they go away.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I smile through the tears. “Kk.”

  My car’s right where I left it. I get in and prepare myself to go home. I can’t wait to see my kids and my dog. The thought of seeing him again kills me, though. I need to build up my emotional walls again and prepare for the hatred that spews off of him.

  It’s hard.

  My phone rings and it’s exactly what I need. My favorite adult talks me through the drive home. He reminds me that I’m worthy.

  “Just look at those monkeys when he starts.” He tells me. “See no evil, hear no evil.”

  “And speak no evil,” I add.

  “Exactly.”

  “I’ll message you later.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  The driveway brings such bittersweet emotions. My kids are in there—my heart…but so is the man who so obviously wants to destroy me. What other goal can he possibly have but to take until I am no more?

  I steel myself for the impending encounter. I pull my shit together for my kids. Somewhere deep within me is a voice—and it’s pissed AF. It tells me I can do this. Somehow, some way, I’ll persevere…

  Or fucking die trying.

  The next morning…

  How quickly everything falls back into place. The kids are off to school, he goes off to work.

  And I spring into action.

  He says he tried to clean up while I was away. What he really meant was he went through all my shit. No matter. There’s nothing to find. I may have a secret or two now, but they’re the first in fourteen years. Can’t find what’s not hidden.

  Despite my loathing of lies and liars (after living with one for so long, I can attest that there’s truly nothing worse) I have to play on his level if I’m going to survive. “Sometimes you have to play the role of a fool to fool the fool who’s trying to fool you.” I don’t know where I saw that, but I did—and that shit stuck.

  The laws in my current state are very clear in regards to child custody. I can take them and go as long as there’s no ruling in place (there’s not.) It’s frowned upon—sure—but also legal. That works well enough for me.

  Most of our things are already in boxes, being at my mom’s still. The rest is in storage. Only our personal belongings remain set up and useable.

  I send a blank check out to my favorite adult in the mail. He’s covering the housing search on that end for me. Likely I should’ve just left him one, but I wasn’t thinking clearly as the time there grew shorter.

  Everything moves in double-time. The boxes get re-packed and discreetly marked as either stay or go. I want to do more—it’s the most effective way to keep my sanity in check—but instead I begin to do all the chores I normally do. After all, everything has to appear normal, or else…

  He continues to act like we’re together, even though we’re not. He still lies next to me with his hand securing me to my spot at night. He still sexually harasses me through texts all day long. Finally I tell him I need to go to the doctor before I’m able to do anything, just to get some damn peace.

  By the time everyone returns home, exhaustion is basically my permanent state. I’d love to crash, but instead I have to work. What I’d usually accomplish in the morning had its time spent on planning my escape. I stay up later than I should, but manage to get it all done.

  Still, it’s hard to relax next to him. After an hour or tossing and turning (and being held down) I go to the bathroom and take a few healthy swigs of children’s Benadryl. After I lie back down, it only takes a short time for the world to go fuzzy and fade away.

  A few days later…

  It’s late in t
he day. All of my days since I got home have been a blur. Pack, plan, clean, cook, mom, work, drug myself to sleep. My only solace is in the messages from my favorite adult and inner circle. This tightrope walk I do begins to take its toll.

  The dryer buzzes and I go to swap out the clothes. Once the clean clothes are in the basket, I move onto putting the wet clean clothes from the washer to the dryer. I hear an odd sound from the depths of the washer. Likely the kids left another toy in their pocket. I dig for the foreign object before it breaks the washer and I get yelled at for it. Only what I pull out scares me to my very core.

  It’s a motherfucking shank. An honest-to-God Plexiglas and duct tape shank. Some prison-type shit. My hand trembles as I drop it into the clean clothes. I snap a pic—mostly because I can’t believe it.

  Immediately I send it to three people: my favorite adult, Judy and Marissa. I need to know that I’m not over-reacting. While I finish the laundry, I try to rationalize it. We have a ton of pocket knives, even full-tang knives that size. What in the world is that needed for?

  Then it hits me. There’s one huge difference between this shank and the knives. The knives are metal. The shank is plastic. Destroyable.

  My fucking God.

  This man really is going to fucking kill me.

  That night…

  I lay there. I lay there and wonder if I’ll wake up tomorrow morning. I wonder if this is it.

  Everything he’s threatened me with plays over in my mind. “If I can’t have you, no one will.” “If you ever think of leaving me, you better be able to afford a new face.” “If you ever try to leave, I’ll find you.” “If you ever get with another man, I’ll kill you both.”

  I made the mistake of not believing him before. The man certainly lacks follow-through…or maybe it was just easier for me to carry on that way.

  Only I can’t put faith in that anymore. Not when the signs point to eminent danger like they do.

  Not when I find a weapon surely designed to take my life.

  No murder weapon, no conviction—right? One fire and that shank will be gone.