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brING ME TO LIFE - EVANESCENCE
CALLIE - MARCH 12, 2013
“ Y ou have got to be fucking kidding me!” I whisper-shout, staring at the positive pregnancy test in my hand. My bathroom feels smaller, closing in on me as I try to process the reality of the situation. I try to stay calm because my eight-month-old daughter, Sara, is napping nearby, but internally, I’m screaming.
What. The. Actual. FUCK.
Since Sara was born, I’ve had sex with that asshole precisely one time. Once! The obligatory “Babe, come on, it’s Valentine’s Day!”
Cupid can suck it. I hate that chubby fucking cherub. Almost as much as I hate my husband.
As the word “pregnant” flashes on the test’s display, I can hear the voice of my ninth-grade sex education teacher, Ms. Reyes, resonating in my ear, much like the voice of the teacher from Charlie Brown. Now, remember, class: It only takes one time to get pregnant .
This is what I get for constantly chasing a romantic high. I loved love, and it bit me in the ass every time. Why on earth I thought Adam would be different is beyond me. To be honest, I wasn’t the best wife either. But fuck, at least I tried.
I met Adam in my first year of high school; he was a senior in my sister Taylor’s class. We bonded after I kicked the shit out of the vending machine that was holding my cosmic brownie hostage, and he helped tip the machine to shake it loose. He turned eighteen early in his senior year and enlisted in the military, planning to leave for boot camp after graduation. Adam took on the role of my enforcer, consistently watching out for me.
We were flirtatious friends, but I was only fourteen when we met. We never crossed the line because I knew he would be leaving. Adam was my best friend and nothing more—or so I thought.
The day he and my sister graduated, I realized my best friend was slipping away from me and mistook that for some “Oh my God, I’m in love with him” movie moment. You know, like the one in Clueless where Alicia Silverstone is standing in front of the fountain, and it lights up purple as she realizes she’s in love with Paul Rudd? Yeah, I thought I was majorly, totally, but crazy in love with… Adam. Oof.
I had to write him a note and tell him by slipping it to him at his graduation party where his girlfriend was standing outside even though my sister could see it coming from a mile away and told me not to be Chaos Callie and just let him be. Why would I do that? That would have been entirely too reasonable. And ethical.
He ended up breaking up with his girlfriend that night. And… two months later, I wrote him a Dear John letter while he was at boot camp. By then, I was fifteen and had a can’t be held back attitude. God, I was such an asshole. But also… he was a full-blown adult, so… Ew.
Perhaps this is my karma, right?
I don’t know if it was my daddy issues or mommy issues, but I was always chasing the feeling of being needed. I became quite the little trollop, an awful girlfriend to almost everyone I dated. I sought attention and validation desperately, going wherever I felt needed and ignoring the wreckage I had left behind.
After high school, I vowed I was going to be different. I’d gotten into a lot of trouble at the end of my senior year, and it was a severe reality check for me in many ways. Turns out, if you sleep with the wrong person, you may get your ass beat. If only I could go back in time and convince my younger self sleeping with my best friend’s baby daddy was not quite the plot twist I should have been looking for in my life.
I know most teens grow up and say they cannot wait to leave their hometowns. That was me, without a doubt. I started focusing my energy on ways to get out of Hawkridge. And I certainly wasn’t going to be dating any more guys from my hometown because, well… fuck them.
When I met a guy named Johnny through a mutual friend, it didn’t take long for me to uproot my life and move to Ohio to be with him. I wanted to escape from the reputation I had built for myself, which was starting to catch up with me.
I thought Johnny was going to be my redemption arc. Have you ever experienced that part in a book or movie where a character you detest suddenly turns into a respectable human being? This was going to be my fucking moment.
Except it wasn’t.
Johnny proposed to me on our six-month anniversary in front of a crowded restaurant when we went to dinner with friends. I thought he was just the greatest ever. I’ll never understand why on earth I thought it was a good idea to get engaged at barely twenty years old to a free-loader who couldn’t hold a job for twenty-four hours. A month after Johnny proposed, I found out he had been cheating on me the entire time we were together.
I’d say, “Fuck you, Karma,” but I don’t think I want to risk pissing her off further. I can’t take much more of it at this point. I went from being the walking Red Flag to collecting red flags like it’s my fucking job and I need a pay raise plus commission.
After I moved back home to Hawkridge from Ohio, Adam and I reconnected through social media after not talking in years. He told me he had gotten discharged from the military and had just gone through a major surgery and a divorce from his first wife two years before that. When Adam offered to buy me a plane ticket to Seattle a few days after we reconnected, I jumped at the opportunity to get the hell out of Hawkridge for a while, fully expecting our relationship to remain platonic.
I was a shell of a human, and he was offering me a safe haven. I thought he was picking up the pieces to make me whole again. You know… because it had been six weeks since my sister and her husband, Nick, were picking me up in Cleveland. Why wouldn’t I hop my dramatic ass on a Boeing seven-eighty-seven to Seattle on a whim?
I was supposed to return home after two weeks, but instead, I skipped the flight home as Adam promised stability, a family, and everything I thought I wanted. Blinded by desperation and my deteriorated mental state, I was married to Adam within six months of moving to Seattle.
Do you see a pattern?
You know how the definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting different results? Nailed it !
I was thousands of miles from home (again), and all my friends were Adam’s. I hadn’t yet realized the more I was fused into Adam’s world, the more I lost touch with reality. I didn’t even know I’d stopped talking to most of the people from Iowa shortly after I moved to Seattle to be with Adam.
In hindsight, I made a foolish and hasty decision when I married Adam almost two years ago. However, I convinced myself our story was some exceptional romance back then.
Despite his promises of the world on a silver platter, I was unable to see how Adam took advantage of me, blinded by my deteriorated mental state. But when you’re twenty years old and don’t know any better, a guy flashing nice cars, a motorcycle, a house, and money when you were just with someone you had to be the provider for, I thought THIS was how it should be. He was the total opposite of Johnny. So, Adam must be the answer to my prayers, right?
The fucking crotch rocket he owned but never actually rode should have been my first clue. But it wasn’t.
Red Flag #87.
I was so delusional, but Adam seemed like everything I needed. He was financially stable for someone in his mid-twenties, unlike Johnny, who stole from me and didn’t have a job for the entire eight months we were together. So, Adam seemed like a dream.
Adam was supposed to be my knight in shining armor who rescued me from my evil, thieving ex-fiance. And we would live happily ever after.
Turns out…
The bar was on the fucking floor. And he was the Great Value version of the Tin Man.
At first, everything seemed to be perfect. Adam was attentive and caring. He showered me with gifts and nice dinners. If only I knew what love-bombing was back then. Once the excitement of the pregnancy wore off, his true colors showed. He didn’t want me to work, claiming the stress would hurt the baby. That’s rich coming from him. I reluctantly quit my job even though it was the only way I’d made any friends who weren’t already his friends in Seattle. At this point, I’ve been without work for two years.
After a couple of months of marriage, he made jabs at me about me not contributing and “his money.” It was his fucking fault I didn’t have a career in the first place, but he had no trouble blaming me for money woes.
Red Flag #127.
Months later, he slipped up and told me he didn’t like where I was working at the time because he thought something was going on between me and one of my coworkers… even though he was the one who showed up to my place of employment with one of his female “friends” on the back of the motorcycle he owned for a very short amount of time. I guess he rode the stupid thing after all, just not with me.
Oh, the hypocrisy.
I knew I shouldn’t have stayed with him when he begged me to after yet another screw-up. I should have taken Sara and gotten the hell out of this complete fucking joke of a marriage. But I didn’t. He rattled on about how he’d made mistakes and vowed to make it right. All things I’d heard a million times before. I was tired. So, he wore me down again, just like he always had. I brushed off all the red flags even though they were so glaringly obvious that they could probably be seen from freaking Jupiter.
I’m grateful to be back home in Iowa instead of Seattle, where I was when Adam and I learned I was pregnant with Sara.
Now, I’m standing here, staring at this goddamn test, and I feel like the universe is playing some cruel joke on me. Am I being Punk’d ? Because that’s what it feels like! How did I let it come to this? Like a complete moron, I wanted to believe he could change, that he would be the man I needed him to be for Sara. But deep down, I knew it was a lie. I knew he was never going to change.
As I stand here, the realization that I’m carrying another one of his children sinks in. I don’t want to raise another baby with a man who only brings me pain—my mind races with the possibilities and the consequences. I have no idea how I’m going to get through this. How the fuck am I going to explain this to everyone? And, more importantly, how am I going to protect my poor babies from the catastrophe known as my husband?
Maybe I should just run… Yeah, right. Where the fuck would I even go?
I take in a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I have to be strong—not only for myself but also for Sara, and the new life I now know is growing inside me. I am going to have to make a tough decision. I wish I had done this a long time ago. I can’t keep letting Adam dictate my happiness. This could be my chance to break free, to build a life for my children that won’t be overrun by his toxic presence.
I would love to have more children, but I don’t want to have more children with him. I feel so guilty for the new life growing inside me, knowing this baby deserves better than the pain my relationship with Adam causes.
I quickly wipe away my tears, silently vowing to myself and this tiny life inside me that we will get through this. We will be okay. Looking down at the pregnancy test in my hand, my head is spinning. Just as I’m about to stash the test away before anyone finds it, the bathroom door creaks open slightly.
“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice laced with suspicion.
I quickly shove the test behind my back, but it’s too late. Adam’s gaze shifts to the discarded box on the counter. His eyes widen, and a strange, almost triumphant smile spreads across his face.
“Are you…?” He steps closer, his hand reaching out to touch my arm. “Are you pregnant?”
I nod, unable to find the words. My husband’s reaction is not what I expected. Instead of concern or guilt, he looks almost… pleased.
“This is great news, babe!” he exclaims, pulling me into a tight hug. I stand there, stiff and unresponsive, the reality of our situation crashing down on me even harder.
“Great news?” I finally manage to say, pushing him away gently. “How is this great fucking news, Adam? We’re barely holding it together as it is.”
He steps back, his expression hardening. “Come on, Callie. This is our chance to start over. A new baby could bring us together. It’s a sign, don’t you see?”
“A sign?” I repeat warily. “A sign of what? That we’re stuck in this toxic cycle?”
It’s like no matter what I do, he always sucks me back in. And I am too exhausted to fight anymore. Jesus fucking Christ, he sounds like a teenage girl that’s just made good on a pregnancy pact with her besties.
Adam’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he might actually acknowledge the truth. But he shakes his head, a determined look in his eyes.
“No, babe. It’s a sign that we truly have something beautiful here. Please, Callie. Just give it a chance. Give us a chance. For Sara’s sake. For the baby’s sake.”
I turn to face the bathroom mirror again and grab a baby wipe to remove the black streaks of mascara from my tear-stained cheeks. He stands behind me, wrapping his arms around me, his right palm flat against my lower belly. I do my best not to recoil from his touch. I never expected that this would be his reaction. If anything, I thought he would think I was the one trying to trap him. Something about this doesn’t feel right.
“We can make this work, baby. I promise.”
I look up at his reflection in the mirror, his blue eyes glimmering and glossed over with his own tears. As our eyes connect, I search for any hint of sincerity. But all I see is desperation. Desperation to hold on to the illusion of control, of a perfect life that never existed.
Right now, my options are pretty limited.
If I leave, I’ll lose my insurance. At this point, this really is a marriage of inconvenience. Having a baby without health insurance in America is not exactly the best-case scenario. And my pride won’t let me tell Mom and Wayne just how bad the situation really is.
“Okay,” I say softly, more to myself than to him. “I’ll think about it.”
Adam’s face lights up with relief, and he turns me around to face him, pulling me in for another hug. “Thank you, Callie. You won’t regret this, I promise.”
I feel myself physically holding back from laughing at his words and plastering on a fake smile. I can’t think of a single promise this man has made me that he’s kept aside from providing for me financially. But he always made sure to remind me that it was his money. And without him, I would have nothing.
I got my associate’s degree a few years ago, but I don’t have much job experience besides working as a waitress. I’ve always had a hard time figuring out what I wanted to do when I got older for a career. Outside of being a mom, I never knew what I wanted for myself.
I also didn’t want to rack up more student loan debt trying to figure it out, so I decided to wait to go for my Bachelor’s degree until I was more sure of myself. However, nothing ever really clicked for me. That’s when Johnny happened. And when Johnny stopped happening, Adam happened.
Sure, I’d worked at a crooked as fuck furniture rental place for a couple of months after moving to Seattle, but since Adam had convinced me to quit my job when I found out I was pregnant, that all tallied up to maybe nine months of work experience since I’d finished community college.
“Can you explain this gap in employment history, Mrs. Graham?”
“Sure, my husband is a piece of shit that claimed he wanted me to not work for the sake of the baby, but really, it was so he could have control over me.”
I’m sure that interview response would go over swimmingly. Maybe someone would find pity on me enough to give me a job washing dishes.
As he walks out of the bathroom, I’m stuck here, along with my thoughts and the overwhelming weight on my shoulders, which makes it feel like I’m balancing an elephant on each shoulder. Can I really trust him to change?
I mean… I know people change. I remained faithful in multiple relationships after being a serial cheater. So, if I could change, that means he can too… right?
I look down at my belly, a massive ache forming in my heart. “I’m so sorry, Little One. I’m so sorry for bringing you into this. I’m sorry that this is the life you and your sister were brought into.”
I have to figure out a way to protect my children. And if that means leaving Adam for good, then so be it. But first, I need a plan.
I’m determined to make sure my kids know they shouldn’t be getting married if they cannot have champagne at their reception. Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should. Hell, they probably shouldn’t get married if they aren’t old enough to rent a vehicle. Actually, fuck that. I’m going to tell them that they shouldn’t get married until they are old enough to run for President. Yeah, thirty-five, that should do the trick. That is assuming my children listen to me better than I listened to my parents… Fat fucking chance.