Something Had to Give

by Trish D.

  Each day as it got closer to the court date, I panicked more and more. I had started on dozens of plans, but none of them seemed good enough. I didn’t have a gun and I didn’t want to risk him surviving a stabbing. I thought about running him over with my car, but I figured the way my luck ran, he would just be paralyzed and still fight for custody. Poisoning him could take months and I didn’t have access to his food or drinks. I wasn’t strong enough to physically strangle him. I had no money to pay a hit man and I didn’t know how to find one. There wasn’t a single person I felt I could ask for help that wouldn’t immediately have me committed. Nothing was panning out for me and that stressed me out beyond words. No one around me recognized that something was off with me. No one asked me how I was doing or if I was okay and that fueled my anger. My mind was telling me to just let it go; that I was out of control and needed help. However, what was left of my heart wouldn’t listen. I didn’t know of any other way to fully have peace in my life. Something had to give and it had to be Jason. Nothing else made sense.

  It was two days before the court date when overwhelming feeling of sadness and despair took over. I lay in bed that morning listening to both children crying for me to come and get them and I just wanted them to not need me for just one day. When I finally drug myself out of bed, I felt so hopeless that I knew it was going to be a terrible day. My feelings were confirmed as I made my way downstairs, juggling both kids, and saw that Mommy was still home. She was in the kitchen at the table reading the paper and sipping her coffee without a care in the world.

  “Oh good morning! Which one of you stinkers was making such a fuss this morning?”

  “Both of them were! It would have been nice to have some help with them!” I snapped back at her.

  “Well I guess everyone woke up on the wrong side of the bed huh?” Mommy responded as Brandon climbed into her lap.

  That was the first time ever that I wanted to do physical harm to my mother. I was so angry with her and she didn’t seem to care or get that I needed a break, just a moment to breathe. It didn’t help that both kids continued to whine all morning and once again instead of offering help, Mommy left me alone and went to her room to talk on the phone with Aunt Michelle. My breaking point came when Brandon managed to get his diaper off and poop on the carpet while I was cleaning up after breakfast. When I realized how quiet he had gotten, I found him rubbing it into the living room carpet with a huge grin on his face. Something that I should have laughed off or viewed as something all kids do as a toddler was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Without taking the time to think, I put both kids in the playpen and pushed it right outside mommy’s door before grabbing my purse and car keys and heading for the door. When I realized that I had no money for gas to get anywhere, I doubled back to the kitchen where Mommy always left her purse and opened her wallet to grab a credit card. As I made my way to the door, I turned around once again and took her whole wallet, which also contained a good amount of cash. I was still in pajamas and bedroom slippers but I didn’t even care. It was time.

  As I stood outside my car pumping gas, thoughts about how I had left my kids that morning, thoughts about what I was planning to do, thoughts about how much my life sucked at the moment flooded my mind so heavily that I had a panic attack. I wanted to make it back to sit in the car while the gas finished pumping, but my head was spinning so bad that I couldn’t do anything but stoop down where I was and hope that I would not pass out. My gas had long finished pumping when I finally felt stable enough to stand up. I was still lightheaded from skipping breakfast. There was a McDonalds that was connected to the gas station that under the dire circumstances, made my mouth water to smell the food cooking. My phone was ringing when I got back in the car to get my purse. It was Mommy and I quickly declined the call that then showed eight missed calls from her on the home screen. There was no way to know if she was calling because I had left the kids screaming outside her door, about her missing wallet, or the smashed poop on the carpet. I didn’t want to find out either. One thing I was sure of was that I needed to get out of town fast before her or anyone caught up to me.

  I convinced myself to still get breakfast despite my overwhelming desire to get on the highway as fast as possible. I was somewhat relieved when I walked in to see only one person ahead of me. What should have taken at the most five minutes to complete took double the time since the cashier was obviously new and undertrained. I started to get so flustered that I felt another panic attack coming on. Rather than have that happen, I opted to go inside the gas station to get food. Back in the car, I told myself that I needed to take just a few minutes to eat before hitting the highway. Deep down I was terrified of what I believed I was capable of doing and of how far I had gone so far. I had left my kids and stolen my mother’s wallet. I felt ashamed. As I sat there cramming powdered donuts in my mouth my phone continued to ring non-stop. Among the numerous missed calls from Mommy were calls from Daddy too and one from a number I did not know. They had left a voicemail and something told me to check it.

  “Ms. Atkins, ‘this is Sergeant Michaels with the Charlotte-Mecklenburg police department. I need to speak with you urgently regarding a stolen wallet and credit cards. I can be reached at 704-555-9875. “

  I knew I was undoubtedly in the wrong for taking Mommy’s wallet, but I was still surprised and annoyed that she had reported it to the police. I knew I had to get out of Charlotte quickly, but first I knew that I wouldn’t be able to use the credit cards anymore. Even if Mommy didn’t have them cancelled, the police would easily be able to track me if I continued to use them. I didn’t even want them in my possession any longer, so I rolled down the window and tossed the whole wallet after removing the cash. I had a little over $200 to get me to Chattanooga and carry out a murder. Turning my phone off, so I couldn’t be tracked that way either; I took several deep breaths and made my way towards the highway. I couldn’t be scared or nervous anymore. I just had to do it. Breathe Cheryl. Breathe.

  The ride to Tennessee was pretty much a fog. I left early enough that I did not hit much traffic. My cruise control was on most of the drive and surprisingly, I felt so relaxed that I was tempted a few times to lean my head back and rest my eyes and mind. I didn’t turn on the music and my phone was turned off, so the only noise was the wind blowing in all four windows that were rolled down. My goal was to make the whole drive there without stopping. I wanted to get it all done before I had time to talk myself out of it and most importantly before my parents or any police officers could figure out where I was and intervene. The donuts didn’t hold long and I was so hungry that I could hear my stomach growling over the sound of the wind. My breast ached and throbbed since I hadn’t had a chance to pump breast milk. They ached so badly that I had to unhook my bra. I had drunk a coke and cup of coffee from the gas station and it felt like my bladder was about to burst. Still, I did not want to stop, but when it got to the point that my head started to spin from the pain, I knew I had to.

  I was already in Tennessee, but I still wanted to make the stop as short as possible. By this time, I had to pee so badly that my teeth were hurting and I barely made it to the bathroom. My breast were the size of cantaloupes at that point and I was hoping they would just start to leak on their own to relieve some pressure, but it didn’t seem as thought that was going to happen. I became instantly annoyed as I stood in the stall realizing I had no pump. As a last resort, I bent over the toilet seat and squeezed each of my breasts by hand expressing the milk. It made me anxious that I was spending such a long time in the bathroom, but luckily for me, I was so full that the milk came out with little effort. I stopped as soon as I had enough of the milk out to stop the throbbing and practically ran out the bathroom. I was stopped in my tracks when the nausea and light-headedness hit me from the hunger. I knew I had to get more than junk this time and the smell of the connected Taco Bell drew me in.

  I devoured three steak tacos in what seemed like one bite each without taking a b
reath. It didn’t dawn on me how fast I was eating until I looked up and saw a little boy turned around in his seat staring at me. I had to assume that my disheveled pajamas and dirty house shoes probably made it seem like I was a homeless person that lucked up on a few dollars to get something to eat. The little boy stared at me with such pity that I was tempted to go up to him and explain to him that he had just caught me on an off day. He was a child though. I knew he probably didn’t care to know the real story behind my appearance and I was on a schedule anyway. With my phone in my hand, I sat in the driver's seat letting the summer breeze hit my face as I waited for my gas to pump. A part of me wanted to check my messages to see if anyone had figured out where I had gone, but the more sensible part told me to just keep it turned off. I convinced myself to not only keep the phone turned off, but to toss it in the trash as I went to put the gas pump back. As I was getting in the car, I noticed the young boy once again staring at me through the window as he sat eating. We made eye contact and I smiled knowing that since I wasn’t able to explain my story to him, that the fact that I was getting in a vehicle showed that I wasn’t homeless.

  It was mid-day when I reached Chattanooga. Seeing the sign “Welcome to Chattanooga” gave me mixed emotions. I was relieved that I had made it, but at the same time, I had a stomach full of butterflies. I still had no plan. I had made the long drive from Charlotte, but I didn’t allow myself to think about my kids that I had left, the state of panic my parents were probably in, and definitely not about how I was going to commit murder. I did nothing but drive and it felt great. Now that it was show time, I realized that I had just over $100 and limited amount of time to think of a plan, find and buy a weapon, and execute it. I had no clue what I was going to do. The uneasiness in my stomach became ten times worse when I exited off the highway. It was so weird how I could easily remember the numerous times I had gotten to the same exit and felt such a rush of excitement over seeing the guy who I thought was the love of my life. It was surreal to believe that we had gotten to this point and that it was real life.

  I didn’t want to pop up at Jason’s house immediately and risk being seen by him. There was no way for me to know how much my parents had figured out. I also didn’t know if they had contacted Jason to let him know I had “disappeared.” Even if they had not gone as far as to contact him, I was pretty sure that by the way he had been acting towards me, that he would immediately call the cops on me if he spotted me near the house. Just thinking about how Jason would respond to seeing me angered me and made me hate him even more. I didn’t deserve how he was treating me. I felt like he was doing anything he possibly could to get back at me and to ruin my life. I wanted him to suffer; to feel every bit of stress, anxiety, and pain that he had caused me. Dozens of thoughts ran through my mind as I sat at gas station just minutes from the house. I was racking my brain over how I was going to get it done.

  Did Wal-Mart still sell guns? Did I have enough money with me to buy a gun?

  Where could I go to get a large knife? How much did they cost?

  How many blows with something like a brick or baseball bat would it take to bust his head open? Would he be strong enough to stop me from beating him to death?

  Would I even be able to get close enough to him to attack him?

  What the hell was I doing?

  My thoughts were so overwhelming that I felt like I was suffocating sitting in the car with the sun beating down on my windshield. I got out the car not getting much relief from the sun, but the fresh air helped. I stood there pacing back and forth beside my car when it hit me. It was an idea so gruesome and crazy that there was no way I could really do it, but at the same time, it was the only logical thing to do. Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed my purse and keys out the car and walked as fast as possible into the gas station. Just minutes later, I walked out the gas station with a gas can, matches, a six pack of beer, and a pack of cigarettes. As I filled up my gas can, I thought back on how Shanna and me had watched The Burning Bed when we were younger. It was the only time I had ever really known someone to set someone else on fire. Could I even compare my situation to hers? Her husband had abused her for years. How could I rationalize that Jason, who had never been physically inappropriate with me, deserved the same fate?

  With the full gas container on the floor on the passenger side of the car, I sat with my eyes closed for a minute imagining myself dousing Jason with gasoline and then throwing a lit match on him. I thought about the pain he would feel from his flesh melting off. I thought about how horrifying it would be to have such a slow death. Would I stay and watch? At that point I honestly felt like I hated him enough that I could stand there with a beer and cigarette and wait until I was sure that he had taken his last breath. It was startling to me as I thought about the person I had become. This wasn’t supposed to be how Jason and me ended and it certainly wasn’t supposed to be a part of my story. My life was set with a rock solid plan to be happy and successful. I never expected life to throw me so many curveballs. No one could have ever told me that Jason would turn me into such a monster. He sold me a dream; pretended to be this perfect guy; and when I fell for him, he totally ripped the carpet from under my feet. I was past the point of getting sad when I thought about it. I was flat out pissed. He was going to pay and he was going to pay dearly.

  Before leaving the gas station, I used the pay phone to call Jason’s job to see if he was at work.

  “Thank you for calling H&M, this is Stacy, how may I help you?”

  “Ummm…. hi, is Jason working today?”

  “Yes, he is. Just a second, I can grab him for you.”

  “Oh no, that’s not necessary. Can you just tell me what time he leaves today?”

  “I’m sorry, who’s calling?”

  I didn’t plan out what I was going to say, nor did I plan on whoever answering the phone getting suspicious of me. I had to think quickly. “This is his girlfriend. I wanted to surprise him after work and wanted to make sure I had everything ready when he got off.” My heart was racing. I had no idea how much this girl knew about Jason. I didn’t want to tip him off in any way that something was going on.

  “Oh, is this Charity?”

  Charity? That was not the response I could have ever fathomed that I would get. It caught me so off guard, it took me a minute to gather myself and respond. “Yeah it’s Charity.” I responded as I choked back tears.

  “Oh, well Jason talks about you all the time! He gets off at 6 today. I’m sure he will be excited to see you.”

  “Ok, thanks.” I responded before quickly hanging up.

  When I thought it couldn’t get any worse and that there was no other possible way he could hurt me, there was Charity. Who was she and where could he have found her so quickly? Did she know he put me out and abandoned his family? He couldn’t have told her that part about himself because no girl in her right mind would date a guy that did that to the mother of his kids. I wanted to find her and see if she was prettier or skinnier than me. I wanted to warn her that he wasn’t a nice guy. She needed to know that he was a snake and that she needed to get away as soon as possible. I just couldn’t believe that he had moved on and created a new happy life and look at me. As I choked on my lit cigarette, I kept hearing Stacy say, “Jason talks about you all the time.” It wasn’t fair. I was sad, overwhelmed, and brokenhearted and he didn’t care at all. I was so angry that I wanted to drive to his store and pour the gasoline down his throat. It was his luck that I didn’t want to risk the lives of the innocent people who were also in the store. He was able to have a few more hours alive.

  I positioned myself on a side street that faced the driveway so that I could see when Jason got home and hopefully he would not see me. I sat in the car chain smoking and drinking beer while staring at the house. It was the same house but somehow looked so different. The best memories of my life were in that house where we once lived as a family, along with memories of the worst days of my life. It was crazy how
many life memories were crammed into that 2000 sq. ft. home. As I leaned my seat back, it hit me how exhausted I was. I didn’t want to fall asleep and risk being seen by Jason or anyone that would get suspicious, but I could not keep my eyes open to save my life. I just needed to rest my eyes for a few minutes.

  I was jolted out of a deep sleep by the sound of a car door closing. It was so hot in the car, that I felt delirious from thirst and heat. On top of that, I was slightly drunk. It took me a minute to focus and remember where I was and why I was there. It all came back to me when I looked up and saw Jason getting out of his car. Panic took over. How long had I been asleep? If he got in the house before I could get across the street, I knew he wouldn’t open the door for me and I wouldn’t be able to get the gasoline on him. Moments after he pulled in the driveway, another car pulled in behind him and I saw a huge grin spread across his face. It had to be Charity. Seeing how happy he was to see her was all I needed to see. As I grabbed the matches and can of gasoline, I was so mad my hands were shaking. My last thought before getting out of the car was “that is the last smile he will ever have.” I stormed over towards the house so hard that my house shoe came off causing me to stumble. That didn’t slow me down for long and it felt like I was at the end of the driveway with just two steps. As I approached, they were still embraced in a hug, so enthralled with each other that they didn’t see me. Hiding the can of gas behind my back, I decided it was time to break up the party.