this behavior was odd, something she hadn’t seen before.
he must have taken something different tonight.
he went from confusion and disorientation to barely breathing.
she was scared when he became unresponsive.
she shook him, attempting to wake him.
then in a faint voice, he asked her to call an ambulance.
she dialed the phone and waited.
the dispatcher answered.
she explained his condition.
as she talked, the unthinkable happened.
he sat up and became belligerent.
demons were manifesting.
he wanted to go out.
she stood in front of him as he sat on the side of the bed.
before she could stop him, he reached in the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out her glock.
the dispatcher was still on the phone, listening as she asked him to give her the gun.
“ma’am, did i hear you say he has a gun?”
she sighed internally, thinking, ‘oh, no, no, no.’
“yes, but…that’s not why I called.”
the situation immediately shifted from a medical call to a ‘situation.’ crap.
“ma’am, i need you to stay on the phone with me.”
she stayed on the phone with the dispatcher, describing her actions as she moved.
somehow, she wrestled the gun from him without getting shot.
the .22 gun was already in her bag. she’d had the foresight to secure it earlier.
outside, she heard sirens wailing and tires screeching as the police set up a perimeter.
he was coming after her as she walked to the door.
she slipped through his grasp, advising the police she was coming out.
there she was, her handbag hanging on her right shoulder with two handguns with in it.
as she walked out of the apartment, she saw guns pointed at her from every direction.
the swat team had her locked in their sights. she might be the problem. they didn’t know.
when they were sure she posed no threat, they stood down on her and secured her behind a building.
then they went in, searched him, searched the apartment.
after finding him to be no threat, the medics checked him out.
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he refused treatment. of course he did.
when it was over, she was in shock. she nodded silently when one of the officers asked if he could keep the guns for a few days. it would be best for a bit.
the officer studied her as he wrote out receipts for the guns.
“why do you stay with a guy like this?” her answer surprised him.
once again, he got up out of bed in silence. In silence, he dressed and in silence, he walked out to the living room.
this time, something had to be different. their separation hadn’t changed anything. he was content. he didn’t have to do anything different. he hadn’t made room for her in his life. he didn’t care for her heart and she had given it all. the status quo was beyond painful, and now, unsustainable.
she needed to speak this time, to stand up for herself.
courage came. she steadied her voice and spoke: “i don’t feel very loved when you leave the room when we have things to sort out.” her words were strong, gentle and calm.
there, she’d said it. lying in bed, she waited for a response, hopeful. it came, but not the one she’d desired.
that mocking spirit rose up in him. it spoke out loud, addressing the dog. “did you hear that, rascal? she doesn’t feel loved.”
she lay in the bed, drawing the covers up closer around her. she waited, giving him time and a wide berth to do the right thing.
minutes later, she heard him get up from the couch. he walked back into the bedroom and lay down again on the other side of the bed. it might have been miles for the chill she felt from him.
she waited. it was his move now, not hers. not anymore. she waited for him to move closer to her, to invite her into his arms.
she waited for him to say he was sorry this one time. it didn’t come.
instead, he got up in silence and walked back out to the living room. he sat down in the same place on the couch.
waiting again, she gave him more time to choose well, to make a different choice. it didn’t come. the game was on. she wasn’t playing.
she got up and dressed. refusing to give in to anger, frustration or accusations, she walked to the living room, too.
walking to the door, she unlocked the door handle and deadbolt. she turned around, going to the kitchen to gather the items she’d purchased earlier.
her arms full, she walked to the middle of the room and looked at him with love in her eyes. holding back tears, she asked him, “Is there anything you’d like to say to me before i walk out the door?” she hoped, praying for a different outcome than the familiar one that had played so often.
he was on his feet now as she spoke, going toward the door. his anger was no longer contained. “no, I think you’ve said enough for both of us.” he had opened the door, but not as a courtesy. he was throwing her out without words. again.
she looked at him, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze.
she felt no fear, just great sadness as she walked over the threshold of the door. the wind of the slamming door blew across her back.
immediately, she heard papa speak in her heart. “now, he must come to you.”
there would be no going back now. he had choices to make.
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