Chapter 4 - THE EXODUS OF THE UNPAID SAINT AND THE BITTER WINTER OUTSIDE THE GATES
I didn't wait for them to finish their meal,
if any of them even had the stomach for it.
I stood up for the final time,
smoothing the skirt of my old,
reliable dress.
"The account is closed,"
I repeated,
as if chanting a mantra of my own rebirth.
"The passwords have been changed,
the cards have been cancelled,
and I have blocked all of your numbers on my banking app."
My mother reached out for my hand,
her fingers cold and trembling.
"Mia,
please,
don't leave like this."
"It's New Year’s,
we’re supposed to start fresh."
"I am starting fresh,"
I said,
pulling my hand away with a gentleness that felt more final than a slap.
"For the first time in five years,
I am the only person I have to support."
"I am going home to my small,
quiet apartment that I pay for myself."
"And tomorrow,
I am going to use the money I saved from Julian's rent to buy myself something beautiful."
I walked toward the hallway,
my heels clicking a sharp,
rhythmic goodbye against the tile.
I could hear Julian behind me,
his voice rising in a desperate,
shrill pitch.
"You can't do this!"
"I have a date next week!"
"I have commitments!"
I didn't turn around.
The commitments of a ghost held no weight for me anymore.
I grabbed my coat from the rack,
the heavy wool feeling like a shield against the toxicity I was leaving behind.
As I opened the front door,
the cold winter air rushed in,
biting and clean.
It felt wonderful.
I stepped out onto the porch,
the snow crunching beneath my feet.
Behind me,
the house was a glow of warm lights and expensive decorations,
but inside,
it was a hollow shell.
I reached my car and sat in the driver’s seat,
not starting the engine just yet.
I looked at the house,
the 'perfect' family home where I had been the invisible foundation for so long.
I saw the silhouette of my father through the window,
still sitting at the head of the table,
his head in his hands.
I saw my mother hovering over Julian,
trying to comfort a man-child who had just lost his lifeline.
And then,
I saw the light in the dining room flicker and go out.
Perhaps it was a fuse,
perhaps it was a sign.
I turned the key,
the engine groaning before it roared to life.
I drove away,
May you like
not looking back at the rearview mirror,
because the past was a debt that had finally been settled in full.
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