Made my escape, now I’m ready to dance
APPROXIMATELY TWO MONTHS AGO, I took half-day off from the office and drove into Bridgetown. I really needed to just get out.
As I stopped by Cave Shepherd’s window pondering whether or not to go, I heard an unmistakable voice and forget-me-not greeting: “Hey beautiful, looking good.” I turned around and there was my “estranged read-me-like-a-book/ex-confidant/ ex-lover/treasured” friend whom I had not seen in some 20 years.
We embraced for about two minutes literally and he said: “Hope you didn’t have lunch.” I didn’t, so we returned to our cars and I drove behind him to what turned out to be Limegrove – a first time for both of us.
When we got there we had lunch, tried on some clothing and went into the cinema – I had forgotten what the cinema was like. While at lunch he said to me: “Beautiful, you need to lose the weight.” I laughed and said: “One pound per year since we last saw each other”. He turned serious and said: “The weight, not some weight.”
The tears flowed and I pulled an article from my bag, the first – and I thought the last – one written to The NATION some months ago – Spouse Treats Me Like Dirt. He read quietly, handed me back and said nothing. He just respected the tears like old time confidant/friend.
It was time to leave Limegrove and when we returned to our vehicles he told me hold on and retrieved from his car a parcel and a small envelope. He said: “Beautiful. You will know what to do.”
I hugged him and we parted company with a promise to keep in touch.
On my way home I stopped and bought a bottle of very expensive wine which I opened at home, drank a glassful, showered and curled up with a book.
I remembered the parcel but the most interesting items in the parcel were not the clothing, perfume and CD, but a key and a telephone number.
I called my buddy and he said: “Beautiful, I am travelling home in the morning and probably would be back for Crop Over. I always felt that your husband was a jealous, ignorant bully and coward who could never appreciate you, but I respected you too much to malign him. However, ma girl, I am sure you know what to do. Remember to listen to the last song on the CD. Bless up.”
To cut a long story short, that evening, I listened to the CD (beautiful music) with emphasis on the last song. I also made that call to the number with the key and agreed to pay the small amount for a six-month stay. My buddy was now really seriously into real estate – a passion he had always had and for which I had once encouraged and assisted him financially. In return, he had given me half of the money for my first vehicle.
The following week, I attended a function and when I returned to the house at about 9.30 p.m., my husband had locked me out. I pretended to want to get in by knocking, ringing the doorbell and telephoning the land and cell lines. I could now imagine the smug feeling he felt listening to my pleas and not answering the door or the telephones. I left and went to that place for which I had the key and slept peacefully.
In the morning I got up very early and went to the house from which I was locked out. The smug, jeering look on my husband’s face when he let me in told me he was feeling euphoric about his silly, cowardly, immature actions and, of course, I remembered to dress in the same clothes I had worn the previous evening. I held my head down, pretending embarrassment and said a very solemn “Good morning”.
He did not respond. I had become accustomed to that show of his lack of good training and immaturity by then, so that bounced off. I went on pretending to be dejected, made my breakfast, showered and left for work but, of course, I never went.
I called a girlfriend and she brought one of our hired cars for me from which I could watch for him to leave home. (Remember, I mentioned to you in Spouse Treats Me Like Dirt that I had made some investments). What would have been a priceless picture is the look on his face when he returned home the next evening because I was gone.
Divorce proceedings are in the pipeline and I have taken a much deserved vacation.
Who knows, I may be gone for longer as I continue to play the last song on the CD – I Hope You Dance.