Even If

‘Even if,’ she tells herself,’ no matter what, I won't go back.’

It would be easiest. She knows that too. The devil you know, you know.

The thought brings a giggle. It isn't joyful but reflects her stress. Her baby looks up from his carrier.

“It is okay Micah. Mommy is fine.”

The baby frowns but doesn't cry. A good thing as she doesn't want him disturbing the other passengers.

They are on a Greyhound, heading…

‘A good question. Anywhere that isn't near him.’ she thinks as she looks at the window. All she sees is the highway they are traveling down, heading south.

The bus is heading to Georgia. They left Ohio two days ago. It takes forever to get anywhere on a Greyhound. She doesn't mind, it gives her time to think.

Technically, they will depart in Savannah. The question is, then what? She had chosen there as it is warm enough to sleep on the beach. Not that she wants to. But…

“Better than him.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. The lady sitting across from her gives her a strange look before returning to her novel.

She doesn't blame her. Even though she hasn't seen a mirror in days, she knows she is a mess. A week ago, she had walked away with her son, a full diaper bag, and a hastily packed tote for herself. She had forgotten her brush.

An attempt to use her fingers to tame her hair had been only mildly successful. She changed clothes once but needed to again. Her focus is on Micah. At three months, his needs are easily seen too. Diapers and her breasts keep him satisfied.

Watching the miles disappear under the tires is what she needs. Every one that took her farther from him brings relief. Her personal care can wait until they reach their destination.

‘I will get help. Just for a bit, until I can get a job.’

She thought, when she first met him, that he was the answer to all her dreams. Her first mistake.

“You aren't a mistake.” She tells her son. Some would say. In truth, she had even thought that herself, just for a second but it still shames her.

He was supposed to be the answer, the glue that would hold them together. Stupid. How many couples have tried the same thing? She thought for sure that gifting him with a son would make a difference.

‘It had at first,” she remembers, ‘he was so excited. So proud.’

Her ex walked around their little town telling anyone and everyone about his son. For the first month. Micah had colic. She tried all she knew to keep him quiet. He expected it when he came home.

It is just now that she realizes that she had a right to expect certain things, as well. Postpartum with her first baby, dealing with fluctuating hormones, she should have had his support. He shouldn't have been another thing she needed to deal with.

Instead…

“Shut that kid up! I have had a rough day.”

“I’m trying.”

“Not hard enough.”

That wasn't all. She wouldn't have left her life, her entire life, just for that.

Absently, she rubs her arm. The bruises are fading. Her son's colic also disappeared when they left his father.

“Stress.” She softly says. He felt it too.

“I’m sorry baby. I shouldn't have left you there for as long as I did. I thought it was better, an intact family.”

She wanted to give him what she hadn't had. Never knowing her father, she wanted better for her son. So, she ignored signs that should have sent her running until she couldn't.

A family isn't intact when there is abuse, even if there is a mommy and daddy.

The first time he hit her was on her wedding night. She was so in love that she let her screaming alerts be silenced. When he didn't do it again for almost a year, she was able to believe it was a one off.

She had just told him about Micah’s coming. She thought he would be happy. He wasn't. A hard hand across her face made that clear. She should have left then.

Pregnancy made her vulnerable. Her hormones bond her to the father. It made it difficult to just pack up and leave. When they found out it was a boy, his whole attitude switched. She really believed it would be alright.

If he wasn't colicky… no! No. She wasn't doing this. Not even in her head would she blame her son.

It was all on him.

It had been a good last day. Micah had nursed well. She was able to get the house cleaned as he slept against her chest in his sling. Then he came home.

As soon as he walked into the house, he started crying. Wailing actually. Oh why hadn't she seen the correlation? It is so plain now.

Distance makes it easier to see.

It was that he hit her with Micah still on her chest. It was it, the straw that broke the camel’s back. Her poor baby screamed louder and louder as his father hit his mommy. He avoided hitting Micah by dumb luck or God's grace.

“Had he hit you,” she addresses her son, “I don't know what I would have done.”

‘Probably killed him.’ she adds in her head.

He had left after, allowing her to gather up what she could, including the money she had started putting back for an escape. It was just enough to get the ticket ( thank God that Micah was free).

She snacks on the protein bars she grabbed at the last minute and drinks the water bottle. It is just enough to keep her going and her milk coming. She is hungry but as long as her son is alright, that's all that matters.

The ocean is beautiful. She carries him down to it, her tote bag and his diaper bag over her shoulder.

They take a seat on the edge. She takes him out, sitting him on her lap. His toes touch the water as it moves in. He laughs for the first time.

She joins him.

“Micah, if this all there is. Even if we never get that house with the white picket fence, we are free. It's enough.”