wanted to but that was in the past and it was too late. That comment was so out of line and I’m severely pissed. I’ve never worked a day in my life but I think it’s about time I start. The math in my head makes sense, if I can get a decent paying job and save all my checks, then I can get out of this once-happy home in a reasonable amount of time. Living here has become a complete nightmare.
When I wake in the morning, I take notice of how quiet the house is and I’m rather excited to know that he’s at work and can’t hurt me right now. I really should start looking for a job so I can put my plan into motion.
When I should be putting on a nice pair of slacks and a button up shirt for a job search, I instead throw on a dark gray t-shirt and a pair of pink exercise shorts. Once I put my tennis shoes on and throw my hair into a ponytail, I’m good to go. With my keys in my hand, immediately I head out the door to the freedom that awaits me and once I start my truck, I throw that damn Mumford and Sons CD on the floorboard because right now all they do is make me think of Marsh and I’m tired of that. I kinda catch myself laughing when the radio comes on and the first song I hear is “Back When” by Tim McGraw. Shit, if he only knew how much I miss back when but back when is over and I keep telling myself it’s time to move on. That’s what today is, the first step in officially moving on.
I’m not quite sure where I’m going once I start driving. I just know I get on the interstate and drive until the highway splits and I head towards downtown. I hate the downtown traffic; it’s enough to give me a damn coronary. No one uses blinkers, no one cares. I’ve witnessed this a few times and Dad used to tell me stories about accidents he saw. Lucky for me, not that many people are out and about yet and traffic seems to be flowing smoothly. The first exit I come across that shows hope of a Starbucks, I make sure to exit and the Tacoma goes where I want it to and soon I’m holding in my hand a wonderfully delicious grande java chip frappucino.
An old sign with letters that probably need to be repainted catches my eye before I can leave the Starbucks parking lot and I can’t help but be drawn towards its tackiness. The sign reads Lou’s Gym and I’m not one to go into such places but desperate times call for desperate measures and suddenly it doesn’t seem like a bad idea at all. Surely someone in this sweat-fest can teach me some self defense moves that I can use when shit gets tough at home, at least until I can get on my feet. I sit there in the parking lot staring at the building and my nerves start to overtake me. If anyone in here laughs at me, I just may run out crying but I feel that this is the place I need to be.
I inhale a sip or two more of the drink before taking a deep breath as I pull myself from the cab of my truck. Within five seconds, I’m pulling the door open and the smell of sweat travels up my nose. I crinkle my nose trying to adjust to the smell. It’s a damn sweat-fest inside here, but that’s the least of my worries. You can practically smell the testosterone in the air and I’m wondering which one of these guys is fuller of it. Everyone’s eyes are on me, probably wondering who the hell I am and what I’m doing in here. Well, I’m asking myself the same question.
The office sits off to the left and looks like it can barely hold five people inside. The door is open so I poke my head in to see a man with broad shoulders and crew cut blonde hair sitting at a desk talking on the phone. He looks like he’s maybe in his thirties and can possibly knock you on your ass quick and in a hurry.
It doesn’t seem like he notices me so the thought to turn and leave crosses my mind. I can easily go back home and change into job hunting appropriate attire, until I hear a voice beside me say, “Hey, can I help you with something?”
Right behind me, I find a
When I wake in the morning, I take notice of how quiet the house is and I’m rather excited to know that he’s at work and can’t hurt me right now. I really should start looking for a job so I can put my plan into motion.
When I should be putting on a nice pair of slacks and a button up shirt for a job search, I instead throw on a dark gray t-shirt and a pair of pink exercise shorts. Once I put my tennis shoes on and throw my hair into a ponytail, I’m good to go. With my keys in my hand, immediately I head out the door to the freedom that awaits me and once I start my truck, I throw that damn Mumford and Sons CD on the floorboard because right now all they do is make me think of Marsh and I’m tired of that. I kinda catch myself laughing when the radio comes on and the first song I hear is “Back When” by Tim McGraw. Shit, if he only knew how much I miss back when but back when is over and I keep telling myself it’s time to move on. That’s what today is, the first step in officially moving on.
I’m not quite sure where I’m going once I start driving. I just know I get on the interstate and drive until the highway splits and I head towards downtown. I hate the downtown traffic; it’s enough to give me a damn coronary. No one uses blinkers, no one cares. I’ve witnessed this a few times and Dad used to tell me stories about accidents he saw. Lucky for me, not that many people are out and about yet and traffic seems to be flowing smoothly. The first exit I come across that shows hope of a Starbucks, I make sure to exit and the Tacoma goes where I want it to and soon I’m holding in my hand a wonderfully delicious grande java chip frappucino.
An old sign with letters that probably need to be repainted catches my eye before I can leave the Starbucks parking lot and I can’t help but be drawn towards its tackiness. The sign reads Lou’s Gym and I’m not one to go into such places but desperate times call for desperate measures and suddenly it doesn’t seem like a bad idea at all. Surely someone in this sweat-fest can teach me some self defense moves that I can use when shit gets tough at home, at least until I can get on my feet. I sit there in the parking lot staring at the building and my nerves start to overtake me. If anyone in here laughs at me, I just may run out crying but I feel that this is the place I need to be.
I inhale a sip or two more of the drink before taking a deep breath as I pull myself from the cab of my truck. Within five seconds, I’m pulling the door open and the smell of sweat travels up my nose. I crinkle my nose trying to adjust to the smell. It’s a damn sweat-fest inside here, but that’s the least of my worries. You can practically smell the testosterone in the air and I’m wondering which one of these guys is fuller of it. Everyone’s eyes are on me, probably wondering who the hell I am and what I’m doing in here. Well, I’m asking myself the same question.
The office sits off to the left and looks like it can barely hold five people inside. The door is open so I poke my head in to see a man with broad shoulders and crew cut blonde hair sitting at a desk talking on the phone. He looks like he’s maybe in his thirties and can possibly knock you on your ass quick and in a hurry.
It doesn’t seem like he notices me so the thought to turn and leave crosses my mind. I can easily go back home and change into job hunting appropriate attire, until I hear a voice beside me say, “Hey, can I help you with something?”
Right behind me, I find a
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