I saw her face just once. I was tired and pregnant, a short broken woman in a rural Walmart. I had bruises on my arm from where the ex had grabbed me, a raw throat from where he’d tried to throttle me on that last horrible day. Foundation didn’t really cover the wounds. I felt like the makeup spotlighted it in some terrible way. I kept trying to sink into myself, become invisible. I wished I’d been invisible on the last day.
Pregnant and trying to breathe, looking into the eyes that had created this life with me. Blank, just blank while the smell of beer and whiskey wafted in my face. Feeling hope ebb away until he came back into himself, stumbled off and slept the booze away. I was tired and sick. Up to that point he hadn’t hurt anyone but me. I could justify it to myself, the feeling and pain. It was what I had grown up with after all, what I was told was normal. I snapped out of it when he could have hurt my baby.
My friend Wanda had come to the middle of nowhere where we lived to grab me and help me escape. She drove me hours and hours, went to a different state. We’d left with nothing but what I could carry. Didn’t want to stay any extra time in that cursed place.
We got to her folk’s vacation place, where she wanted to hide me until I had given birth. There was nothing there for the baby. I hadn’t had much, hadn’t had a chance to grab much either. I had a few onesies and a blanket in my bag for him. That’s it. I’d had to leave everything else when I ran away.
. . .
I slunk into that rural Walmart hardly daring to breathe. I kept my head down. Was trying desperately not to be seen. Irrationally afraid that someone would see me, recognize me and tell my ex where I was. Hope is such a really fragile thing.
I walked in, head down and not looking at anyone. Feeling like I was marinating in shame and what-ifs. What if I’d made the wrong choice? What if he really could change? What if…. in my panicked absent mindedness I almost ran into a cart. I cringed and got out of the shopper’s way. I said Sorry. I was always saying sorry. Sorry for being there. Sorry for being slow. Sorry for cooking when you didn’t want me to. It’s a cycle you can get into, same as anything else. Apologize, cringe, hope it doesn’t hurt too much. Hide when the whiskey is poured and wait out the coming storm.
She was an older lady, shorter even than me and with eyes that looked like they had seen everything. Her house dress was comfortable, a faded floral that had seen miles of life, like the woman herself. Her hair was in curlers and her eyes were kind.
She looked at me and smiled, then she looked again, closer this time. Her smile faded. “Honey, you should be in joy, it should be radiating from your face. That baby is almost here. Any man who causes you that look in your eyes, leave them marks on your skin ain’t the man you need. You should leave him, walk away. Save yourself and save the baby.”
I finally looked up and said “I have. That’s why we’re here. I don’t have anything for the baby, but she helped me get away.”
The lady just smiled and told Wanda “You are a good one,” then watched us go on our way. Wanda and I spent a good hour in the baby section, rationing and looking at things, trying to be so careful with the little bit of money I had. She wanted to buy more stuff for me, but pride was all I had left. I wouldn’t let her get more than an honorary aunt should. She’d done more than enough for me, getting me safe.
I was tired, and the baby was restless, kicking in his rambunctious way. We decided to go back to her house, finish the shopping another day. This one had been long and hard, a roller coaster of hope and shame.
We got to the door after checkout and the boy working as a greeter looked at our receipt and then my belly. Recognition dawned on his face. He reached behind him and pulled it out. Soft and small, cozy and warm. Cuddly. A teddy bear.
“My grandma? She said to give this to you? For the baby.” I walked out, dazed, and for the first time since that horrible day, a little happy. My baby got a present from someone not me. And that hope got a little stronger…that was the present she gave to me.
He still has that bear in his room. He’s now 13. He called it his ninja bear, the one who watches over him when he sleeps. And to that lady in the long ago Walmart, thank you for everything.
—
This post was previously published on Hello, Love.
***
If you believe in the work we are doing here at The Good Men Project and want a deeper connection with our community, please join us as a Premium Member today.
Premium Members get to view The Good Men Project with NO ADS. Need more info? A complete list of benefits is here.
—
Photo credit: The prefers to be anonymous boyfriend, who understands that things can be memories.