Chapter 3
N atalie
Mid-August
I’ve always prided myself on my independence. Got my first job at fifteen. Worked all through college, sometimes carrying a full course load and a full-time work schedule, because I was determined to graduate with zero debt. Thanks to a handful of scholarships and grants, I was pretty close to meeting my goal, and my parents were incredibly relieved that they didn’t have to worry about paying for anything. Yeah, those four years I basically lived in my car, and I didn’t have a social life at all. But it was worth it.
Which is why I’m still not sure how I ended up here.
Living with a man who has gotten more and more abusive the longer we’ve been together. Hating the school I teach at, in a well-off area of a Denver suburb, where the parents run the school. I spend way too much time trying to defend my own decisions in my classroom, and the district superintendent, a man who hasn’t spent a day in an elementary school classroom and makes at least double my salary, makes all the big decisions for me. Many of the districts in Colorado have adopted a school calendar that closely resembles a year-round schedule, and I’ve already been back in the classroom for a couple of weeks now. It’s only the second week of August.
I hate this.
I hate my life, and I don’t know how I got here.
But worst of all, I don’t know how to change any of it.
Rob and I have been dating for two years. When my lease was up about a year ago, he convinced me to move in with him. I brought up all the usual concerns, of course. Would I be added to his lease? How would we split rent and utilities? If we break up, how will we handle that diplomatically? Rob blew all of it off, assuring me we were end-game, so all of my questions were moot. Besides, he said, we wouldn’t be in his apartment forever. I’ll be on the mortgage of our future house, once I share his last name.
I giddily moved in with him, thinking I’d found my forever, and ignored every damn red flag right in front of my face.
“Are you even listening to me?” Rob asks. My eyes whip to his, and I immediately notice the tense jaw.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. I’ve found it’s easier to apologize as soon as I see he’s getting angry. It’s not that he’s always violent. He’s not. But there are so many mind games at play, and he gaslights like a pro.
“I don’t know why I bother,” he snaps. “I deserve someone who pays attention to me, Natalie.”
I don’t respond. I want to agree with him, but I don’t want another woman to put up with this. Other women aren’t strong enough to deal with Rob. I hate this, but I’ve mastered the art of dissociation when it comes to this man.
When we began dating, Rob was an absolute joy to be around. No, he didn’t wine-and-dine me. I’ve never wanted, or needed, that kind of attention. I felt like Rob saw me. He recognized what I needed, and he was all too happy to give it. Once he realized I just wanted someone to spend time with me, he gave that to me in droves.
About six months ago, things began to change. Text exchanges grew shorter. His patience became razor-thin. Our arguments were louder, and longer. Everything was my fault. I only recently took stock of our relationship and realized how often he gaslit me, and the number of times I was all too keen to take blame over things that were not my fault.
It certainly wasn’t my fault when he got a parking ticket after ‘surprising’ me at a dinner with my girlfriends, nor was it my fault when he shoved me into the car door.
A month later, he slapped me, but seemed so apologetic and remorseful that I forgave him. Besides, it was only because I didn’t have dinner ready when he got home that night. But things escalated.
Last night, he punched me.
The obvious black eye he gave me wasn’t something I could cover with makeup, and I took a very rare sick day from teaching today. Considering it wasn’t the first black eye he gave me, I knew this one wouldn’t be believable. A person can only run into a doorknob so many times. So, once Rob leaves for work, I make the two calls I know I have to make before I can get a plan in place to get out of here.
I call one of my best friends, Arianna Santo Dixon, and I call my brother, Shawn.
My hot-shot brother plays for the NHL, living his dream each and every day. He’s in his final year of a lengthy contract, and he’s mentioned in passing that he’s thinking about retiring. Growing up with him, I know how rough he’s always been on his body. As a defenseman in the league, he’s the first one to post up on the ice to defend his teammates. I have no doubt his body is wearing down.
“Hey, little bit,” he answers. For the record, I’m not little. He’s just a giant.
“Without setting off too many warning lights in your brain, can I borrow some money?” I blurt out.
“What happened?” he immediately asks.
“I don’t want to go into details just yet, but I need to borrow some money.”
“I need a little more information, Nat. You need a new car, or to buy something for mom and dad? Sure. You’re planning on taking your fifth graders on a bender at a dispensary as a field trip? No.” I chuckle at the thought of a field trip to a marijuana dispensary. I mean, it’s Colorado. Stranger things have probably happened here.
“Do you promise not to ask many questions, not to tell mom and dad, and to let me handle things?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs.
I sigh, deciding to rip the Band-Aid off. He’s one thousand miles away, and the season is getting ready to start. He’s not going to show up here to take care of me. “I am looking to relocate, and my bank account is currently missing the zeroes it needs for getting a new lease and moving expenses.”
I hold my breath as I wait for the inevitable Shawn explosion. I’m not disappointed. “What did that motherfucker do?”
“Jesus, Shawn,” I hiss as I pull the phone away from my ear. “Pretty sure my neighbors just heard you.”
“Answer the question, Natalie. I know he makes good money, so if you’re needing it, to relocate, as you vaguely said, it means something happened. And that means the fucker did something, and that means I’m about to introduce the back of his fucking throat to my fist.” With every word, Shawn gets louder and more staccato.
“It doesn’t matter what he did,” I’d argue. “It matters that I’m getting a plan in place to get out of here.”
“Fuck, sis,” he swears. “Did he hit you? He had to have. You’re the strongest fucking person I know. You’d have no problem telling him what upset you, and demanding he change. He had to have hit you for you to want out.”
I don’t respond. I knew calling Shawn was a risk. Other than my besties, Shawn knows me better than anyone. He’d read right through my brave act and get to the nitty-gritty immediately. And I’m not surprised when he’s dropped ten thousand into my account before our conversation ends. I doubt I’ll need that much, but I felt immediate relief at having a little bit of padding.
Next, I call Arianna.
We met because our brothers were playing in the same hockey league growing up. When there aren’t many girls at the rinks, you bond with the ones that are. It turned out that Arianna, our other best friend, Claire, and I all had a lot of similarities. I’m a few years older than Ari, with Claire in the middle, but we bonded over our love of the shows Pretty Little Liars and Switched at Birth , our hatred for most sports, and the joy of being the sister to a star athlete. While Ari was a few years younger than her brother, Luca, I was only a year younger than Shawn. Still, hanging with Arianna and Claire made the hockey practices and games almost enjoyable.
I don’t beat around the bush when she answers. “You think you can reach out to your contact at the elementary school and see if they still have that open position?”
“Why? What happened?” she yells.
“It’s nothing. I just need out of here.”
“Don’t do that, Nat. Tell me what happened.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m trying to get all my ducks in a row.”
Arianna sighs. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Just —” I break off in hesitation. “Don’t text it back. Okay? I can’t have Rob finding out until it’s already settled and I’m out of here.”
“Jesus, Natalie, what did he do?” she whispers.
“I’m not saying anything because I think you’ll tell Stone, and he’ll end up over here, and I refuse to be a reason why you have to visit your husband in jail.”
Arianna is silent for a moment before she speaks again. “If the position is open, I’ll text and ask if you want to grab lunch tomorrow. If you don’t hear from me, it’s not open. But I’m spending the rest of the day going through every contact I know, and finding you a job elsewhere. Do you need an apartment, too? Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t care,” I whisper brokenly. “As far away from here as I can get.”
“I got you, boo. We can get you cleared out of there this weekend.”
“I don’t think that will happen. I need to let my school know, and I’ll have to do things slowly, Ari. Rob is getting more volatile, and I don’t want to anger him right now.”
“I’m calling my brother. He has to have some contacts with the Denver police that can advise you.”
“No!” I shout. “No. I don’t want the police involved yet. I’m not doing anything without another job and a new place lined up.”
“Alright,” she murmurs. “But we’re getting you out of there.”
I feel overcome with emotion. Rob isn’t awful. Well, most of the time. But I can see where it might go. I don’t want to become someone I barely recognize, and I can’t let myself live in fear every day. This version of Rob is not someone I want to be around. Could he change? Maybe. But I’ve given him too many chances. How I ever let it get this far is mind-boggling .
And I can’t let Arianna call her brother.
She still doesn’t know he kissed me.
Wait. I kissed him. He definitely didn’t expect that. And for one glorious moment, he kissed me back. I felt his hand grip my hip, then slide down to my ass, as his lips suctioned against mine, and it was phenomenal.
Then Rob groaned, which spooked Alex, and he bolted. I won’t forget the look of regret and despair he cast my way as he stalked back down the hallway.
The night I saw Alex was the second night I was determined to leave Rob. He’d slapped me the previous afternoon, hitting enough of my nose to give me a black eye that I’d had to cover it with makeup. I’d avoided Rob the entire day after texting him that we needed to part ways. I was ready to catch up with a friend from high school, only to have Rob track me down. I think he could tell I was having thoughts of ending the relationship, and attempted to love bomb me into staying. I shouldn’t have stayed, but that self-doubt infiltrated my mind. We had a good couple of weeks, and then old behaviors began to creep into his actions again. His violence yesterday was the final straw.
How am I supposed to explain all of this to Arianna, the one person who knows me better than anyone else?
“The position is open, and the principal wants to interview you,” Arianna says suddenly, jarring me back into the present.
“What? How did you get that set up so fast?” I ask incredulously.
“Girl, if you have to ask how I’m this awesome, clearly you don’t know me that well,” she jokes.
“I don’t know how I’ll be able to interview. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got the apartment bugged,” I admit. “I probably shouldn’t even be on the phone with you like this.”
“Do you want to text me instead?” Arianna whispers, making me laugh.
“I don’t think he’d be able to hear you through the phone, Ari.”
“Why don’t you come over for lunch tomorrow? I’ll see if the principal is okay with doing a FaceTime interview. That way you’re here, which means Rob can’t think it’s anything out of the ordinary. You’re here all the time. He still works weekends, right?”
“Yeah. I just … look, you need to know that I’ve got a black eye. Okay? And tell Stone to be prepared. It looks worse than it feels, but I don’t need either one of you going vigilante or something and trying to defend my honor.”
“Oh, Nat,” Arianna gasps, before sniffing repeatedly. “I’m so sorry. I just feel awful.”
“It’s not your fault. I thought I could judge character pretty well. I guess I was wrong.”
“No, that’s not it at all. You’re always one who can see past the bullshit to get to the root of things. Rob had us all fooled.” Maybe everyone except Claire. She was apprehensive about him from the beginning, but I chalked it up to her being reserved and mistrusting of everyone except those in her inner circle.
“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” I sigh.
“Will you do me a favor?” Arianna asks quietly.
“Sure.”
“Bring over a bag of your stuff. Think of it like a go-bag. If something happens and you need to get out of there quickly, you can come here and at least have some of your things.”
That’s actually pretty smart. “I can do that. I’m going to go through my closet and get rid of a bunch of things. Do you know if the women’s shelter near you needs donations? There aren’t any close by me that won’t charge for the clothing, and I’d rather they go to an organization that actually helps women get back on their feet.”
“I bet they’re accepting stuff. My mom always donates things, and they never turn her away.”
“I always think I’ll sell some of the things I don’t want, but it just takes too much time and effort,” I chuckle.
“I’m that way with kids clothes! So many consignment sales, but I’m too busy to deal with getting all of my things organized for that.”
“They have consignment sales strictly for kids clothes?” I ask, intrigued. I’m secretly relieved for the change in topic. I hate feeling inferior, and admitting to anyone that I need help .
“Oh, yeah! There’s a huge one that has toys, furniture, and even maternity clothing. It’s a week long. Stone yelled at me last time because I spent a couple hundred bucks,” Arianna giggles.
“On what?” I exclaim.
“Clothes, mostly. But I found a bunch of super cute books for toddlers too. I know Bianca is only one, but we both love reading to her. It’s become my favorite part of the day as we put her to bed,” Arianna confesses.
“Okay, that’s seriously cute.”
“It really is,” she giggles. “We all cuddle on the floor while she brings us her favorites.”
“She has more than one favorite book?”
“Oh, absolutely. Right now one of the cutest ones is called That’s Not My Monster . It’s a touch-and-feel book, and Stone makes all kinds of growling noises to go with each monster. Bianca won’t let us turn the page until he makes up a sound.”
“I’m going to need a video of this in order to believe it, because I just can’t see Stone growling to appease his daughter,” I joke.
“I’ll see what I can do, but he’s pretty private about his monster noises,” she teases.
“Oh, come on. Just take a video of him and send it to me.”
“A video of who?”
I shriek, jumping in my chair, completely unaware that Rob silently crept into the apartment. His face appears passive, but it’s hard to tell if he’s masking anger. “Jesus, you scared me. Did you forget something?”
“Obviously. What man are you wanting a video of?” he asks again, and the subtle clenching of his jaw is all that I need to know. He’s pissed, and I have about ten seconds to explain myself before he starts yelling.
“I’m talking to Arianna. She was telling me about reading to Bianca, and how Stone makes all kinds of noises to go along with the books they’re reading before she goes to bed.”
“Who is Bianca?” Rob asks.
“Oh, I really hate him now,” Arianna hisses .
“Uh, their daughter? You met her a couple months ago at her birthday party?”
“Oh. That’s the twerp who cried and then puked on her cake, right?”
I hear Arianna gasp, and I instantly try to diffuse the situation. “Bianca isn’t a twerp, Rob.”
He shrugs. “You just say that because her mom is your friend. All kids are twerps.”
“I will end him,” Arianna growls.
Rob watches me, then slowly ambles over to bend down, his hands perched on his knees. “You don’t want kids, right? Cuz I’ll be damned if I’m saddled with some little bastard. Hell, your ass is already thick. Can’t imagine how fat you’ll get after pregnancy.”
My mouth falls open as I stare at him in shock, watching as he ambles back to the bedroom.
“Did he seriously just call you fat?” Arianna whispers.
“I think so,” I stammer. I glance down at my body. I’m definitely overweight. As a size sixteen-eighteen, I know I’m technically plus size. While I know I could exercise more, I’m by no means lazy or sedentary. But now that I think about it, Rob has made some offhand statements about my size over the past six months or so, and they’ve been increasing in frequency. That might actually piss me off more than any other nasty comment he’s made recently, because I fucking love my body. I know I turn heads. Could I lose some weight? Yes. But I rock my curves, and you’ll never find me thinking otherwise.
“Don’t you dare let him get in your head, Nat. You are gorgeous. Guys check you out all the time,” Arianna tells me passionately. “If I didn’t love you so much, I’d hate you. Shit, that didn’t come out right. You get what I’m saying, don’t you?”
“Sure,” I murmur, but even I can tell there’s no heat behind my statement. I slide a hand along my waistline, gripping the inch or two roll that pops out beyond my lounge pants, and I feel the inevitable wave of hot tears burning behind my eyes. I can’t believe how quickly Rob diminished me with two sentences. “I need to go get the crockpot started for dinner, Ari. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? ”
“Don’t forget to bring some things,” she whispers. After saying goodbye, I quietly walk into the kitchen. It only takes me a few minutes to decide on a meal, but my mind is elsewhere.
I don’t know how I got here. How I let a man slowly and systematically break my spirit. I’ve let him destroy the parts of me that were most important to me. Now I’m debating on which meat to use for our dinner based on whether or not one might make him mad.
I don’t want to be like this anymore.