Leaving. I haven’t ever been good at it. When I was young and drinking alot I would leave bars without saying goodbye. I would walk home down the snowy, Colorado streets completely drunk on my own. No one knew where I was. I liked that feeling. I liked knowing that I was on my own and that I could go as slow or as fast as I wanted. I could turn down alleyways and walk by the river. I needed to watch out for moose, but never other people. When I leave I don’t usually say goodbye.
Monday morning that is what I did. I had threatened it so many times. I had promised him if I even suspected he was drinking I would go. My last threat three weeks ago weighed heavy on my heart. I knew I meant it this time and it made me sad because I knew he thought it was going to be like all of the others. That I would take it back. So as he was screaming Monday and I grabbed my bag I don’t think I will ever forget his face. The brief surprise as I reached for the door. It quickly turned to anger. He started saying that’s it, that’s how you want to say goodbye. He laughed. I paused but only for a moment. I left.
He called right away. Laughing and mocking. How many times had I gotten this far only to turn around at this exact point? Countless times. I kept going. Within an hour he was frantic. I’m sorry. Come back. When I didn’t he went to the liquor store. That was when it got ugly. That day is going to be a hard memory for a long time. I hope not forever. I wanted to turn around and hug him but every time I did that I stayed. I don’t know how to say goodbye. I don’t know the right way to leave another human being. It hurts me that he didn’t understand it. It hurts me that he thought I would come back. Leaving hurts me.