Page 192 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
Bags packed already, I carry my suitcases out to my car and pack them in the trunk. When I turn toward the cottage to go grab Buzz, I feel this sense of loss hit me all at once, because... I don’t want to leave. I love it here. I love my cottage. I love the property. I love the town and the feel it gives me when I walk around. I felt like I truly found a home here. For the first time since I lost my business, it felt like I had purpose again. Correction: Ilovedmy cottage, the town, the property,the sense of purpose. But once again, I’m fleeing with a sense of humiliation on my back.
I can’t... I can’t stay here. Not now.
Even though it leaves me with an empty void in my heart, I know I need to move on.
So I go back into the cottage, making a note to have Uncle Dwight send everything back to my parents’ house, and then place Buzz in my car and buckle him up. When I reach the driver’s side, I give the cottage one more look and then turn on the ignition.
When nothing happens, I pause for a second and then turn the key, attempting to start the car again.
Nothing.
“Nooo,” I say as I try again and again and again.
On the sixth failure, I rest my head on the steering wheel and blow out a frustrated breath.
Why?
Why now?
I take that moment to pull out my phone and dial Uncle Dwight. It takes a few seconds for him to answer and then, “Betty, how are you?”
“Not good,” I say on a sob, unable to hold it back. “I’m trying to leave, and I can’t because my car won’t start, and I just want to be out of here and go back to Fort Collins. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to see him again. I don’t want to see anybody. I’m just... I’m sad and heartbroken and embarrassed, and I wish I never came here at all.”
“Shhh,” Uncle Dwight says. “First things first. Your car stopped working?”
“Yep,” I say, holding back another sob.
“Okay. Well, I can get someone to come and fix it.”
“It was already supposed to be fixed. Atlas had someone fix it for me before, or maybe that was all part of the plan. Maybe itwas a temporary fix so that when he went to break my heart, he could keep me here so I could live in the sorrow over and over again like a merry-go-round. Do you think that’s what the plan was? Well, it’s working, and now I have to stay here.”
“Listen,” he says. “Take a deep breath. I’m so sorry this happened, and I promise I’m going to help. Your parents are on their way, so why don’t you just go back to the cottage, relax, and then we can just spend some time here at my place with your parents like we initially wanted to? After the holidays, you can go back with them.”
“I really don’t think I want to see them. This is all too raw.”
“Do you want me to tell them not to come?”
I give it some thought. The last thing I want is for my parents to see me in a failing position again. Not that they would ever judge me or be mad at me, but to have to tell them that I’m heartbroken, that my life once again has fallen off course, and that I have to start all over again—I don’t think I can stomach it.
“Yeah, tell them not to come. I can’t... I can’t deal with it right now.”
“Okay. I’ll tell them that something came up and you’re going to be busy during the holiday.”
“Thank you.”
“I can come pick you up later. We can hang out?—”
“I think I just want to be alone right now.”
“It’s almost Christmas, Betty.”
“I know,” I answer as I curl up on the couch, the tree Atlas got me lit up in the corner. “And I just think I want to be alone.”
“Do you have food? I can bring you some food.”
“No, I’m good. Seriously. I have everything I need.”
“You sure?”
