Overzealous Alphas

by Elizabeth Knox

  On day four of being inside, I feel stir-crazy. Cabin fever hits, and I need to get out. I borrow one of Sara’s hats, and we sneak out the back door and into her car. I find myself looking over my shoulder. Can I really trust he won’t break the restraining order? Am I safe?

  “Where are we going?” I question as we drive north. I don’t really care because it’s just good to be out of that apartment. Another reason I want to get a house—I like nature and the outdoors.

  “It’s a place I like to go to escape reality,” Sara answers with a smile, and that sounds perfect to me.

  After driving for twenty-five minutes, we arrive at a beautiful lake. It’s sunset, so it’s stunning. The mixed orange colors reflect off the water, ducks swimming along, swallows singing their tune.

  “This place is beautiful,” I declare, smiling as I rush to get out. As I walk along the pebbled path, I bend down to pick a small purple flower.

  When you are in the darkness, you forget how beautiful the outside world can actually be.

  I gaze at the wondrous beauty of nature, feeling mesmerized. I inhale the sweet floral scent and the freshness of the grass and trees.

  It’s tranquil and therapeutic.

  “Thank you for bringing me here. It’s just what I needed,” I announce as we sit side by side on the riverbank and gaze at the beautiful sunset.

  During the drive home, the realization sinks in. I can’t stay at Sara’s forever.

  “I love your place, Sara, but I will need to start looking for somewhere of my own,” I tell her to give her a heads-up.

  “I can’t wait to have somewhere to call my home. Mike never let me decorate or have a pet, so this is so exciting for me. One of the first things I’m doing when I get my own rental house is buying a cat or a dog!” I say, and it’s something I’m one hundred percent sure about.

  “Okay but you are welcome to stay as long as you need, cuz,” she tells me.

  “I know that. I just want to get on my feet without always having to rely on someone else,” I announce, and Sara nods. I remember when she first moved out for that exact reason.

  “Um, Sienna, have you spoken to Aunty Mae? I think it’s time you told her what’s been happening,” Sara states, and I nod my head. I’ve been avoiding that conversation with my mother like the plague.

  But Sara is right. It’s time I open up to my mom even though it’s going to hurt like hell to admit what has happened with Mike.

  “You are right as always. I need to call her,” I admit as we get back to the apartment.

  “Laura is picking me up soon, and we are getting supplies at the store; do you need anything?” Sara asks, and I’m grateful she is giving me a little space to talk to Mom.

  “Ice cream and wine,” I tell her, and we both giggle. I have been living on both things for seven days—the best comfort food in the entire world.

  The horn outside beeps, and I assume it’s Laura. I’m so glad those two found each other because she is really amazing.

  “See you soon, pretty lady,” Sara tells me, and I smile at her compliment.

  I casually sit on the bed in the spare room and dial Mom’s number.

  I feel a little sick to my stomach, and my automatic thought when I tell people is what if they don’t believe me. I mean, Mike has been the ultimate manipulator and devil in disguise.

  “Hey, Mom,” I say as fake cheerful as I can manage.

  “Hey honey, how you doing?” she questions in her motherly tone.

  “Mom, I’m not so great,” I confess. I decide to rip the Band-Aid off quickly and get it done.

  “What’s happened?” she asks concerned.

  “It’s a long story, but you should probably sit down while I tell you a few things.”

  “God, Sienna, now you are scaring me. Are you sick?” she questions, sounding worried.

  “No, I’m not sick,” I reply quickly. God love her, she’s always thinking health wise.

  “Oh, thank god.”

  “Mike is sick, though, Mom. He has a mental illness,” I state, saying it the best way I can think. It is true; he is mentally sick and unstable.

  “What?” she questions, sounding shocked as I thought she would.

  “Mom, it’s not easy for me to admit, but he’s been lying all this time. He’s been drinking, stealing money, and he’s hit me.” I spill it all out on the table. I’ve always been honest with Mom, so once I start, and I hear her supportive voice, I can’t stop. Then I sob.

  “Oh god, Sienna, that’s terrible. I can’t believe it. He’s hit you? Did you call the police? Oh sweetheart, don’t cry. I’m so sorry. I’m so angry I didn’t pick up on this.”

  “Yes, it’s been more than once. He was arrested, and I now have a restraining order against him.”

  I sniff and finally stop crying enough to finish telling Mom all the details.

  “He also admitted to cheating,” I confide in her. “I’m sorry, Mom. I never would have married him. I really thought he was a good person. He hid it all, lied, and made me feel like it was all my fault,” I admit and cry again.

  “No, honey, don’t ever feel that way. A man should never hit a woman, and he’s weak for doing that. He’s disgusting, and if I see him, I’ll give him a piece of my mind,” Mom states angrily. She does have that side to her that I’ve only seen a few times.

  “Do you want to come stay here?” she asks me sincerely, and the thought did cross my mind.

  “It’s okay, Mom. I appreciate you offering, but I’m staying with Sara right now,” I tell her. “I left a week ago. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away, but it’s been a nightmare, and I was constantly crying,” I confess.

  “It will all be okay. I love you always,” she says with the sincerity only a mother can. “I’m going to cook something special and bring it over tonight, okay?” Mom finishes the conversation, and I’m so grateful to have her in my life.

  “Okay, sounds great. Thanks, Mom. See you then.”

  I smile as I hang up. I shouldn’t have doubted my mom’s support.

  Then the tears flow, and the realization kicks in. Telling my mom makes it so much more real.

  My marriage of only months is over.

  I’m going to be alone.

  I feel isolated and anxious and cry myself into a welcome sleep, a regular for the past seven days.

  EVERYTHING IS CHANGING

  Much to my surprise, Mike backs off. I guess when the police get involved, you have no choice.

  I start to venture out more, but I still look over my shoulder. I mean, the restraining order is comforting, but when he is that hostile, fifteen minutes is too long to wait for the police when a psycho is doing his worst.

  “You are the most amazing cousin and friend in the world,” I tell Sara. I’m a little sad I’ll probably be moving in a few weeks, but I need to try independence.

  Right now, I love that I am my own boss in life; I make my own rules, and I have freedom. I can have a girls’ night whenever I want, I don’t need a filter with what I say, I can spend time with whoever I want on whichever night I want, I get to choose the décor for my home, and I get me time, peace and quiet.

  Another thing I’ve realized lately is that relationships shouldn’t be one-sided. There needs to be a mutual understanding and give and take. I should never have conformed.

  In the words of P!nk “Stupid girl.”

  Back when the police initially took my official statement, they recommended a counselor. I agreed to it because sometimes a professional can help when feeling lost.

  My first appointment with Dr. Collins is today, and I’m totally apprehensive and nervous.

  We talk about everything, from the beginning to the end, and underneath my tears, I’m relieved to get everything off my chest.

  “It’s not your fault, Sienna,” she tells me.

  I needed to hear that. Mike blames me for everything.

  “Mike is mentally ill. A normal person doesn’t behave that way, so you
did the right thing by getting a restraining order,” Dr. Collins clarifies, and hearing that from a medical professional is like music to my ears.

  “No matter what I did, I couldn’t help him. I felt like a failure as a wife,” I confess, surprising myself a little with the revelation.

  “He didn’t want your help, Sienna. He has a destructive personality, addiction, and abusive behavior. What he did is not okay,” she declares, and it’s so true.

  The unbelievable relief I feel when she says that is uplifting.

  None of it is my fault.

  “You are right. I didn’t deserve it,” I declare loudly. No one deserves to be treated like a doormat, punching bag, or piece of shit.

  “Mike is what we call a narcissist. He enjoyed taking the joy and happiness from you. It was like by taking the goodness from you, he was validating himself,” she reveals, and I shake my head as that’s exactly what he was doing.

  “You see the good in everyone, Sienna. I can see that about you; can you now see Mike’s dark side?”

  “Yes, I can. He was poisonous,” I protest; his venom almost killed me.

  “Don’t ever feel like it was your job to fix Mike because some things that are broken can’t be fixed,” she says matter-of-factly.

  I listen to more of her words of wisdom. It is a two-hour appointment by the time we are done, and I feel uplifted by her revelations.

  He has an illness, and I was the victim.

  Time to put the past behind me.

  ***

  I’ve done a lot of soul-searching lately. Dr. Collins has helped with that, and I have come to a few realizations.

  I am Sienna

  Well, sure, that’s my name.

  But who am I? I have no identity.

  I mean, I wasn’t nobody. I was Mike’s wife.

  I was a daughter, a cousin…

  Why did I need to be Sienna?

  I became a shadow of myself. I was molded into the perfect Stepford wife.

  I am totally lost...

  It was never love; we were never going to buy the family house with a white picket fence, family dog, or start a family.

  He wanted someone he could control, and I obeyed willingly.

  He wanted someone to cook, clean, and serve him.

  I wasn’t even enough in the bedroom, so he paid hookers, judging by the money missing.

  Good riddance. He was trash, and it feels so good to take it outside and empty it into the dumpster.

  CHANGING THE MOLD & GETTING ON WITH LIFE

  “You sure you don’t want me to drive you, Sienna? It’s an hour’s drive out in the stix,” Sara questions me concerningly.

  “Thank you for the offer, but it’s fine. The country drive is therapeutic,” I tell her honestly. I could definitely imagine myself living off the land one day. No one too close and just the grass and animals. Sounds like bliss.

  “Okay, well, text me when you get there,” she orders, always the mother figure. I am so happy Sara has finally met someone. I’ve known she was gay for years, but she never felt comfortable actually saying the words.

  “Adios, cuz. Say hi to Loz for me,” I tell her as I head to the car.

  I enthusiastically drive the fifty-eight minutes to my very first business studies class.

  I still love nursing, but I’m trying to broaden my horizons and skills until I’ve had my fill of knowledge. If being with Mike has taught me anything, it’s that life is too short to wonder the what-ifs… No more sitting around waiting for opportunities to come knocking. I’m making my own choices and destiny.

  Definition of irony...

  The last song on the radio as I park and get out of the car is “Movin’ on Up.” Ha-ha, what a perfect song.

  That’s me, baby. Moving on up, nothing can stop me.

  The teacher hasn’t arrived yet, so I eagerly take a seat, then using my new colored pens, I’m doodling flowers, suns, and smiley faces on my notepad. It might seem quite immature of me, but after the few months before, I’m feeling happy.

  As the room fills, I’m still caught up in my creative yet childish drawings. Of course, art is another interest I could pursue if I wanted to.

  “Welcome, everyone, to business studies,” a deep husky and amazingly sexy voice announces.

  That voice certainly gained my full attention, the sexiness and familiar sound.

  I’ll be damned. I didn’t expect to see that guy again.

  I smile as he gives me a familiar smirk that says I remember you too.

  He busies himself on the board.

  “My name is Mr. Rossi, but you can call me Ethan,” he declares, looking around at the students.

  “I’ll be your business studies teacher for the next two weeks. The course consists of six lessons. I guarantee you will walk away feeling inspired to run a business or even start your own,” he states with confidence. I do admire a man who can talk himself up a little without sounding cocky.

  He oozes confidence. Easy, girl…

  “Copy down the subjects that we will cover,” he tells us as he starts writing. I grab my pen and get to work.

  His very nice ass catches my eye, those jeans fitting nicely in that department.

  Okay, enough. It’s time to work. I give myself a mental pep talk.

  I smirk and put on my serious face. I am not ready to start ogling anyone. Well, sure I can ogle, but that leads to a whole other set of problems.

  “Homework for tomorrow night, I want each of you to choose a local business in your area and write five hundred words on how engaging their advertising is. Tell me the positives in how they advertise? How do they draw in customers, etc?” he adds, and I scribble down the notes.

  This is exactly the distraction I need right now to keep me busy.

  “See you all tomorrow,” he exclaims as everyone packs up and heads out the door.

  I shyly smile as I too head toward the door.

  “First cooking and now business. Are you opening a restaurant in the near future?” Mr. Rossi smirks and questions.

  “The sky is the limit right now,” I declare and smile as I walk out the door. That statement right there is my new motto.

  I climb in my little car, and I quickly text Sara.

  Me: I’m driving home now. My teacher is way too cute to be a teacher LOL

  Sara: Well at least you won’t lose interest. LOL

  Me: True Dat…

  The next night, I’m early to class. I’m actually excited about handing in my homework. I googled our local Chinese restaurant and printed their menu, making a little cardboard poster stating what caught my attention and the positives in their advertising.

  I’m admiring my cute little poster and typed up homework when Mr. Rossi walks in.

  He was good looking, no doubt, the two other times I saw him, but damn, tonight the transformation is insane. He looks like the ultimate alpha tonight. Ethan Rossi.

  He is definitely all man—a little rough like someone out of a motorbike group or something. His boots are scuffed, black belt hooked into his dark denim jeans, and a light blue collared shirt, he is unshaven and man… that three-day-old growth is sexy.

  How the hell is he working in a place like this when he could be on the cover of a magazine?

  As he starts speaking, I realize he is smarter than I gave him credit for. He is one of the most academic and knowledgeable guys I’ve ever heard speak in a classroom.

  His words are complex, yet he has a way of breaking them down so everyone in the room understands exactly what he’s saying.

  Is it his extremely husky deep voice that has me drawn in?

  “Please place your homework on my desk, and I’ll mark tonight and give feedback for tomorrow,” he advises, so I do just that.

  I’m feeling a little too casual in my jeans and a simple black tee, though it is a little low cut. I didn’t just flash him my cleavage. No, just no, Sienna.

  “Okay, the next topic is to analyze your market and challenges. We will
pair up tomorrow and brainstorm because two heads are better than one,” he declares, and I feel his eyes on me.

  “Sienna, seeing as though you were one of the last to enrol, and the numbers are uneven, I can be your partner,” Mr. Rossi announces, and when I nod, I notice a few glances from other girls in the class.

  I’m not sleeping with the teacher, I feel like announcing to them…

  Even if I thought he was trying to hit on me, I’m not remotely interested. With a psycho ex-husband lurking around, it’s not happening.

  But would I honestly say no when he looks like that?

  I need to focus on the course and nothing else.

  That statement may be easier said than done.

  JUST WHAT I NEEDED

  “God, I love you, cuz, for taking the day off work to spend time with me,” I tell Sara excitedly.

  “I can’t remember the last time I had a girls’ day shopping with beauty treatments.”

  I am a pretty simple, low-maintenance woman. My hair color is called chestnut brown, and it’s from a box. I even do my own eyebrows. Besides my pre-wedding treatments, I haven’t done much for myself in the past year. Time to change that.

  “You one hundred percent deserve all the spoiling in the world, Sienna,” Sara states, and I smile, feeling that maybe her words are true.

  “Okay, a massage and facial are booked for eleven, then we finish off with our hair at one p.m. All courtesy of your beautiful, generous mother,” Sara reveals, and I shake my head. I should have known my mother was in on this. I would be lost without both these women in my life.

  It’s only nine thirty when we arrive at the mall, so we decide to get our pedicures for the first stop of the day.

  As the beautician soaks my tired and neglected feet, I relax. It feels amazing when they scrub away the dead skin. It almost feels like a metaphor for scrubbing away the deadness and excess baggage from my life.

  “You will have to choose a color for me, Sara. I can’t handle decisions, especially with these two hundred color choices.” I hand her the chart.