Breaking Free

You knew this was coming, for years you just kept going and staying because of the kids. That was the excuse, but when the three boys left the house for college, you still hung on in the hope that the absence of the kids would rekindle the relationship. Reading books, articles, and doing research you learned that when the 'empty nest' phase starts, your marriage would go one way or the other. You either go back to what it was in the beginning, which would be unrealistic, although you have the freedom now to do things together you didn't have time while the children were home. People change with time and you tended to ignore certain attitudes, disrespect, or selfishness in the past, too busy chasing kids, cleaning the house, and catering to your husband. Now questioning yourself, do you want to do this the rest of your life or is it time to break free?

This morning at the breakfast table, your husband, the one that is now bald, and growing a substantial belly reads the newspaper and comments on how screwed up the world is. Women have left husbands in droves; he doesn't even look at you. To him, it is a given that you would never do such a thing and will always cater to his needs and your needs always seem to come second, third or never. You don't say anything because, well, in the past all it did was bring on the same old shit about God creating Adam first and then Eve to be his companion, and then Eve enticing Adam to eat the apple which in the course of Adam eating the apple God threw them out of Eden and thus it's all the female's fault. He included a statement that enraged you upon hearing it… "how in the world would you even think you would survive without a man taking care of you". Poring coffee into the mug that has always been in front of him because you wake up earlier than he does and make breakfast, not necessarily for you but for him. It has been going on now for close to twenty years, except for the birth of your sons or when you may have been sick. You want to pour the coffee on his lap, punch him in the face, shove the stupid newspaper down his throat, laughing while he chokes to death. Oh, the imaginary thoughts of outing a man that you have come to loath.

You ask yourself… did you ever love him in the first place? How could you know you would end up making his dumb breakfast, lunch, and dinner every single day of your adult life? Thoughts on how you wasted your entire youth on getting married, having kids, and taking care of the house. This was never your intention when you were in college. You wanted to become something, you didn't want to be like your mother, who on her death bed confessed that marriage was not a give and take commitment. That you, as the female, were treated as nothing more than a maid which included sexual favors. Why didn't she warn you before you made that stupid lifetime commitment? You feel betrayed by your own mother. You even repeated the 'obey' part of the vows, thinking that it literally didn't mean obey as in doing what the man demanded, plus your husband would never do such a thing. You found out later that in fact, to him, it was a given. Tradition, that's what he said, and brought the entire God thing into it.

For thirty years you followed the rules, always. The years of childbearing, spitting out three during the first five years of marriage, all boys. For the next eighteen to twenty years, all you were good for was being there for them and your man. You never put yourself first, when you tried it was a big to do with the 'man' in the relationship. When all three were finally in school, you decided to get a job. The problem was you had to ask permission and the answer was "no, you are needed at home, you should be happy, working is not all that it's cracked up to be".

Submissively you accept the answer and keep doing what is expected. On the inside, you keep asking yourself why and grow increasingly more unhappy. When the kids finally go to college, graduate, and live their own lives, you find yourself bored out of your mind. You don’t give a shit if he likes it not, you are getting a job.

You followed the women's movement and things have changed. When you got married, it was the 60's, even with the hippy movement and the beginnings of the women's movement, 'good and respectable women' were expected to get married and have children. The notion that attending college and managing to graduate did not mean you would have a profession and work. The purpose of college for young women at that time was to find a husband, if you graduate before marriage, it was simply a bonus. You even read the book 'The Feminine Mystique' by Betty Friedan in college, it was an eye-opening experience. The resurgence of the women's movement was led by women with protests, sit-ins, and congressional rallies to inform the patriarchal society that things will change. it was inevitable. It opened their eyes to the fact that females didn't want to be just a wife and mother, they wanted more. You lived through all of it, the fight for contraception that freed women from having one child after another, and for the choice to end a pregnancy. Secretly you rejoiced for the right to have control of their bodies, you gleefully rejoiced, silently. Your husband belonged to the old patriarchal men’s club that let it be known noisily, pumping their fists in the air, insisting that women's ultimate duty is to the family. The divisions were God mandated for Pete’s sake which is unchangeable. But change it did, and you kept up with all of this throughout the years and you became bold. It may have taken close to twenty or so years, but it was the late 70's and now you didn't need permission from your husband to get a bank account, a job, or even a divorce. 

One morning, feeling strong you tell him that you will be getting a job. Your husband looks up from the newspaper and laughs at you, repeating the same mantra about God so many years ago. You are not afraid anymore and grab the everlasting newspaper from his hands, which rips in half, look him straight in the face, and tell him that you do not need his permission to work anymore, the kids are grown and gone and you will get a job. The money from that job will be yours, you have opened a bank account already and you don't care if he likes it or not. He is shocked, standing up he growls "how could you have made this decision, without my input." You don't reply, your grin tells all. In the next three weeks, you fill out applications and go to interviews, much to your surprise you land a position at Luige’s in Old Town, not as a waitress, but as the manager. You are elated and excited and scared all at the same time. That very evening, at the dinner table you inform your husband you will be working full time from now at Luige’s Diner. He stands up from the dinner table, throws his cloth napkin on top of his plate, which is still full of the pot roast, gravy and potatoes and stomps out of the dining room. You let him go. You don't need to give him any explanations on the hours or days you will be working, apparently, he did not want to know, probably thinking you would not last more than a couple days. He was wrong, you wanted the freedom, you took it and it felt amazing. You love the job and it comes up to the sixth month and your husband finally admits that he is surprised you lasted that long. That is the moment when you started loathing him even more. Just looking at him made you seethe in anger.

 Since you started working, you didn't have the time to keep everything in tip-top shape. You tell him that he could help, he informs you that it's not his job to keep the house in tip-top shape, it's yours. He brings up in a conversation about selling the house and downsizing. You pretend that you don't care, but inside it hurts that the house in which you made a home for your three boys was no longer going to be yours. You carry on and have a massive yard sale, tell your boys that you and their father were selling the house and that they may want to come over and take what they wanted. It sold quickly and you move into a two-bedroom apartment on Main Street in the middle of town, the diner was even closer. This is around the time that you start plans to flee. You continue working, saving every paycheck.

In the meantime, keep a close eye on the joint account, you balanced the checkbook every month so that was a bonus. You plan on withdrawing half of the money in the account, jotting down the dates in your notebook when he deposits his paycheck or any of the dividends from the investments that they made long ago. The winters in this city are brutal, your escape will be in December right before Christmas. The feeling of success in both your position at the diner and the plan coming seamlessly together gives you confidence. You want to spend the last holiday together as a family and insist that the boys must come for dinner. You are thankful that there are no grandchildren yet, it would make it harder to leave. The three boys will be there for Thanksgiving, you give it your all, cooking for two days, decorating, and cleaning the apartment. You do not mention that you gave Ligue’s a two-week notice, it's none of their business.

The holiday is bittersweet, but you had a wonderful time reminiscing with your children. Little did they know that they would receive a letter days after you left, short and sweet informing them you left their father. It was your turn to do what you want when you want. All these thoughts go through your brain as you pack that suitcase with some momentous pictures of you and your boys, the jewelry your mother gave you when you got married, you figure you can pawn it if things don't work out, and your summer clothes. The last thing you do with so much happiness is taking your wedding ring off and in a dramatic fashion placing it on his pillow. Opening the front door, the suitcase in hand, you head to the station.

Walking out of the building, the doorman is already hailing a cab. He tells you to have a wonderful time wherever you are headed. You just smile and say thank you as you give the cabbie your red suitcase and climb into the back seat. The cabbie asks where you are heading, you joyfully tell him to go to the train station, the train departs in an hour. He smiles, turns down the meter and drives to the station. You left nothing for your husband to even get a clue as to where you are headed, or why, frankly as Rett told Scarlett 'you don't give a damn' because in truth this is the beginning of your life. You have enough money put together, withdrawing most of everything in the joined account earlier that morning, deposit the amount in the account you set up in another country a month ago. The paychecks that you saved were also added to the bank account, making sure that you could live comfortably for the rest of your life. The planning for the escape took you close to five years. It was going superbly well; you are very satisfied and proud of yourself. Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you see the station and brief thoughts of failure enter your mind. You take a cleansing breath, pay the cabbie your fare, grab your suitcase, and walk towards the train platform. You got your passport a few weeks ago, it was mailed to the diner. You wonder why you had to keep it all a secret from the loathsome husband, you tell yourself it's better this way because you never want to see him again. You also filed for divorce, told the attorney that you wanted nothing from your husband, and to please take care of it, you give him a post office box in a small town in Portimão, Portugal to send the final decree. The decision to move to Portugal was not hard, as a young girl your father took you and you fell in love with the climate, people. You learned that it's relatively inexpensive to live in Portugal. It is the first week in December, you watch the snow falling on the platform and know that by this time tomorrow you will be landing in Portugal, where the sunshine is constant the place came to you in a dream, and yea there was a man involved; maybe it's a premonition. Everything you did was done in cash or money order, no credit cards so that there was no trace of where you went.

Standing on the train platform, you start to feel uncomfortably nervous, dark thoughts of failure invade your being. What if the plane crashed, what if you get sick, what if you can’t manage the loneliness? Thankfully, the doubts and questions are interrupted by the screeching of the train, you sigh in relief. Inside the train, you find a window seat, close your eyes, and repeat positive thoughts, “You will be happy, you deserve this, it is your turn”. The fine white powder covers everything, you smile because, in Portugal, snow is nonexistent. Since it will be the last time you see the city you spent most of your married life in, a proper goodbye is warranted. You will not miss the cold rain in the fall, the absence of the sun for months at a time, the unbelievably short summers, cold, windy, and snowy winters. Seattle was not for the weak at heart although Washington State did have beautiful areas, and the coast was gorgeous. However, swimming in the Pacific Ocean, even in the summer, when the water temperature was a mere 56 degrees, was not the comfort you seek. In Portimão, Portugal the average climate in winter is not subzero temperatures and icy cold wind, or don't forget the snow. You were looking forward to the warmth of Portugal, with the average temperature in the summer is 80 degrees and Winters, although more precipitation falls around 60. If you were going to live your life in another country research is particularly important, although you did visit as a young girl, places change. Going to the library every chance you got, if you checked out any books, taking them to the diner, and booking the trip in another city was key for the escape plan. Looking out of the train window, the snow keeps falling and you smile when you see the airport.

Moving through the Seattle Tacoma International Airport, you find the ticket counter, go through customs, and find a seat in the terminal lobby, you sigh in relief. As you walk to your seat, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the large window and hardly recognize yourself. You feel invincible, beautiful, and strong. The walks to the Diner and through parks when time allowed, watching what you put in your mouth, no more doughnuts, chips, and empty calories amounted to a very good-looking older woman. Your hair was always kept long, got cut in a beautiful bob right to your chin, the luster was a deep black, no gray showed, the dark brown eyes, prominent nose, finishing off, with the red lipstick you glided on your pouty lips in the cab. Purchased just for this occasion, made everyone take notice.

You tug off your wool gloves, slip off your coat and sit down, reaching into the red carryon bag you retrieve the pair of loafers, not brown but a cream color, you notice people are watching you. You don't mind, unzipping the long zipper of your winter boots, you take them off then your thick wool socks, thank goodness you never had stinky feet. You wiggle your toes and slip the leather loafers on, no socks required. Stuffing the wool socks into the boots, you walk swiftly to the large trash can and dump them in, adding your hat and gloves, almost decided to throw in the coat as well, but change your mind. Draping the coat over your arm, walk to your seat.

The Boeing 747 is the largest commercial airline to date, the biggest airplane you have ever seen. Observing out the large window, the baggage cart drives up to it, and the red suitcase is the first one they load. The catering truck is next; however, you don't see them load it because the stewardess announces that first-class passengers are welcome to board. You are ready for your adventure walking through the jetway in the soft cream loafers enjoying the soft leather, looking forward to the first-class leather seats and the champagne that will be served. Saying to yourself, bring it on!