Chapter 01
I stare at the screen. I can’t believe I’m entertaining this idea. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m a rule follower, or at least I’ve become one. I’ve learned to stay on the path laid out before me. Straying is frowned upon, something that was hammered into me with snide remarks and glares.
And what has all that rule following gotten me? Nothing. Literally. I have nothing left. My bank account was drained. My house was sold. The only car I could afford has seen better days.
But I’m free.
After living in hell on earth for the last five years with Ethan, I’m finally free.
He may have taken my money and the good pillows, but I refuse to let him take away my spirit. I’m better off without him. It’s time I start living like it.
I read the ad again. Wanted: Queer Individuals Interested In Stranger Sessions.
Could I do this? Show up for a photography session with a stranger? Take pictures with them and allow that person to hold me? Maybe kiss me? Let it all go and be in the moment?
I want to be a person who does this kind of thing. The person I was before Ethan killed her.
A queer woman who laughs and enjoys life. A woman who isn’t afraid of being unapologetically herself and takes what she wants, instead of cowering and asking permission from someone who doesn’t really care about anything or anyone besides himself.
The ad promises flirty fun, chemistry, and adventure.
Fuck it.
I hit submit.
And then the panic sets in. Holy shit, what did I just do? This was either the best or worst idea I’ve ever had. Maybe there will be so many applicants for Sadie’s Strangers that I won’t even get chosen. I’ll still have accomplished what I needed to, I technically put myself out there and tried something new, I just . . . won’t have to do it.
I heave myself off the lumpy couch and trudge to the bedroom to get ready for work. When I left in the middle of the night, leaving Ethan and Toronto behind, I didn’t know what I would find. I didn’t even know where I was going. All I knew was that I had enough and needed to get out of there.
It wasn’t finding out that he had drained my bank account, using my hard-earned savings to pay off his gambling debt. It wasn’t even when I had a chat with the real estate agent who shocked me when she dropped by to say congratulations on selling the house I didn’t even know was for sale. No, what finally did it was having to remind him yet again, in front of his work friends, that I’m allergic to shrimp when he tried to force me to eat some.
That was it, my lightbulb moment. Ethan was never going to remember because I was never important to him. If he truly cared about me, loved me like he claimed, surely he would remember my life-threatening allergy. Right? Isn’t that something you remember about your girlfriend?
Well, joke’s on me because the only person Ethan has ever loved is himself. I’m embarrassed to admit it took me five years, crippling debt, a non-existent credit score, and lumpy pillows to see it.
So, as soon as Ethan was asleep, I got out of bed and quietly filled a suitcase with my personal belongings. I drove west for hours, until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. As pale morning light filtered through the thin curtains of the questionable motel room I slept in, I made a plan. I was going to reinvent myself.
When I hit Calgary, I sold my car since I desperately needed the cash and bought something passable as a vehicle. I pawned my jewelry. I wiped my cellphone and sold it, then got a cheap one from a convenience store. I cut up my credit cards so Ethan couldn’t track me down. And then I kept going. I didn’t stop until I got to Victoria, British Columbia.
I pull on my work uniform of black pants, a sage green button up, and a white apron. Running my brush my shoulder length black hair, I study myself in the mirror, noting that my eyes are brighter now than they have been in the last five years. I put on mascara and eyeliner to make my eyes pop, then choose a deep red lipstick. I’m feeling bold today after applying for the photoshoot.
I’ve lived in Victoria for six months and I’m starting to really like the city. The winter here was much more pleasant than any winter I experienced in Ontario. Rainy, but nice. Everything about my new life is better than what I left behind. Even the lumpy couch and mismatched furniture. I have no idea what Ethan thinks happened to me, what he told his friends and family, and I couldn’t care less. Fuck him.
It’s a short walk to Kira’s Diner from my little apartment. When I first got to town, destitute and unsure what to do next, I stopped here for a coffee, desperate for something comforting and familiar. After loitering and abusing the unlimited refills, Kira sat with me. Between sobs and embarrassment, my story poured out. The kind older woman held me as I cried, offered me a job and said her brother owned an apartment building which had a vacancy. Kira saved me and I doubt I could ever repay her.
The bells chime as I enter the restaurant and a few heads swivel my way. I wave to the regulars before heading to the back to store my purse.
“Morning, Ella,“
Kira says when I join her behind the counter.
“Good morning. Has it been busy?“
I pour a cup of coffee for Joe, sitting on his usual stool.
“Nothing more than usual, honey.“
Kira gives me an affectionate look and I soak it up. “I’m going to take a little break to rest my feet now that you’re here. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“Take the full fifteen minutes,“
I call after her, but she ignores my comment. She’ll be back in seven minutes. Kira loves her diner and wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Sometimes she jokes that she wants to be buried here. At least, I hope it’s a joke.
“Morning Pax,“
I say to our cook through the passthrough into the kitchen.
“Good morning, my beautiful friend,“
he says, giving me a little finger wave before going back to the pancakes he’s making.
The day goes by fast. I serve coffee, pass out plates of eggs and then burgers when the lunch crowd replaces the breakfast crowd. I flirt with Tracy like I do every Wednesday when she comes in for lunch. It’ll never go anywhere, but it’s fun to flirt with her. To be able to flirt with her. In public. Without having someone tell me my bisexuality is a phase or I’m pretending because I think it makes me seem cool. And yes, those are things Ethan had said to me.
When I return to my apartment, I’m tired and greasy, but happy. Sometimes I can’t believe how happy I am. I try to not kick myself for staying with Ethan for so long. I could have been this happy for so much longer. But thinking that way doesn’t help. I’m here now. That’s all that matters.