By Tess Godhardt
She hated him. For the last fifteen years, Lucy had avoided any ounce of emotional anguish brought on by her lovers by immediately detaching herself. It was as easy as flipping off a light switch. The moment Lucy sensed she may be hurt, she pulled away. She would set her sights on new conquests and convince herself she never cared about the man she was still tied to. Lucy had become an expert at the defense mechanism, and had reached the level where she had cheated on every single one of her significant others with no remorse. Her rationale? The men had simply not been right for her.
Travis was different. Sporadic therapy sessions, mostly attended by Lucy to deceive those closest to her, persuaded Lucy she was the committing kind. Thus, when Travis got down on one knee, she accepted with little hesitation. A year later, Lucy was feeling less than sure. Travis had just finished detailing his past sexual trysts to her with no prompting. Her heart ached with the thought of him finding another attractive. Her mind flooded with images of modelesque woman with large, perky tits bouncing on him. The thoughts gnawed at her insides like a vulture picking, dissecting, and devouring the guts of its meal.
A few days later, Lucy lay outside in the Florida sun. Splayed out on the concrete slab in her backyard, she had been sipping on mimosas all morning as a sleepy Saturday brunch playlist echoed in the background. Travis was working inside and periodically checking in on her. Each time he ventured outside, the newfound hate bubbled within Lucy’s stomach and exploded into her throat. He had made her love him. He had forced her into this impossible situation where she either had to learn to face her emotions or get out. Lucy stared up at the light blue sky in a tipsy state, watching the local hawks circle.
You could hurt him back. This was Lucy’s default. She wanted nothing more than to slip right back into the bad habit. It would be as easy and as comfortable as putting on an old pair of sweatpants. She would no longer be in unfamiliar territory. She would once again have control. But although Lucy’s time with a psychiatrist had been mostly for show, the notion that she needed to be vulnerable and feel her emotions had stuck. Lucy hated that of all the lessons thrown at her, this was the one she felt obliged to follow.
What is the point of relationships? What is the point of opening yourself up and feeling this pain? Feeling at the mercy of someone else? I could have just kept fucking around and never been hurt. Of course, Lucy’s single days appeared a wonderous shade of ruby. What Lucy’s recollection conveniently excluded were those days her phone was silent, and the nights filled with men who used her for her body.
And yet, her past life had been comfortable to Lucy because it was chosen. She began to wonder how many more unexpected, unwelcome periods of suffering she would have to endure in her next thirty years with Travis. She thought of the wrinkly, arthritic couples celebrated at weddings for wearing their, presumably, years of misery with a badge of honor.
What a sham. Why force two people to be together forever despite the pain they COULD cause each other in the future that they cannot even imagine at the time they marry?
That’s literally what divorce is for, Lucy. The mimosas mixed with the sunshine beating down on her all morning had clouded her rationale. Divorce seemed extreme for her current situation. But changing her number, taking off in her Bronco, and moving cross-country . . . now that seemed doable and enticing.
It would be perfect. I could start all over, forget I even ever had a whore of a husband. Lucy fantasized driving her Bronco through the deserts in Arizona, windows down, music-blaring, Travis devastated at home trying to figure out where she went. Her downtrodden spirits were slowly rising.
“You okay, babe?” Travis was peering out of the kitchen door.
Blegh. Without turning her head, Lucy threw up her arm and gave him a wobbly thumbs up. He replied with a proclamation of love and returned inside. Lucy continued to stare at the hawks above-head, wishing she could either join them or feel their talons rip her apart.
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Tess Godhardt is an attorney who has always harbored a love for creative writing. When she is not working, she can be found on the basketball court attempting to relive her collegiate glory days or outside throwing the ball for one of her five dogs. She lives with her husband in Cedar Creek, Texas.