Taking the Long Way

I couldn’t remember when or how I had gotten into the car and backed out of the driveway, but here I was now, speeding down the highway, the windows down blowing away any tears that escaped my eyes. Exit after exit flashed by, but I continued north. I didn’t know where I was going, there was no one north to go to, but I kept pushing my car straight ahead. The bright lights from passing cars illuminated the pain that must’ve been on my blotchy face. I only had time to gather one bag of my possessions before I raced out of that godforsaken home. I couldn’t tell you what I packed, only that my small pink tote was stuffed to the brim with whatever was laying around my room as it sat propped up against the passenger seat. 

My knuckles turned white as my mind tumbled down into itself and imploded with thoughts of the last hour of my life. I had been so incredibly stupid. So incredibly naive. This was real life. This wasn’t a movie or a book. Love does not exist in this world. Loyalty is a term that should be thrown out of human vocabulary. Add the word commitment to that list, too. 

All it took was coming home an hour earlier than usual. I had daydreamed of the surprise on his face by coming home an hour earlier than usual from work. I had thought I was giving him a gift, but all I was left with was a curse. 

I had known when I first pulled up to our home. An unfamiliar, gray car was parked in my spot in our driveway. My first thoughts gained confirmation when I had walked through the door and noticed the pair of women’s running sneakers next to my fiance’s. How cliche of my fiance for having an affair with the neighbor. At that moment, my brain went into autopilot, it relied entirely on instincts. I marched towards my bedroom, steeling myself to catch them in our bed and found it rumpled, but empty. I had thought I had just missed them and was alone until I heard the shower running. And the giggles. And the noises. I waited until I was out of the house with my little bag to start crying. I didn’t want them to know I was there and I would do everything I could to avoid that interaction. 

What if I hadn’t come home an hour earlier? What if I never found out? What if this lasted for years and years? What if I’m wrong? What if. What if. WHAT IF. 

Maybe if I was a better partner this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe if I did more around the house this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe I should turn back around and confront them. Maybe. Maybe. MAYBE. 

How could I be so stupid? How could he do this to me? How could I have not known? How long has this been going on? How did he meet her? How. How. HOW. 

No matter how much I thought and thought and thought, nothing would change. No matter how many romantic scenes play in my head of him begging on his knees for forgiveness, nothing would change the mistake that was made. I could make a wish on the very stars that shone down on the road and none of them would answer. All was dead in this world. 

I twiddled with the radio in my car, hoping any song would drown out the spiral happening in my brain. The tears blurred my eyes, forcing me to stop at a random station. A sob escaped my throat as I sat and waited for the next song to play, willing for anything to distract me from the current heartbreak I was experiencing. 

The strum of the guitar made my back stiffen and a gulp escaped my throat. I would know this tune anywhere. I had listened to it lying on my back in a queen sized bed, a warm body lying next to mine. I had listened to it on night drives like this one, a hand squeezing mine. I listened to it while rocking back and forth, attempting to slow dance, with arms curled around my waist. 

My hand instantly came to my mouth as the waterfalls appeared down my face and hiccups escaped my lips. I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch the roof of my car until my fingers bled harder than the tears in my eyes. I wanted to bash my head against the dashboard until my brain reset itself. Too many good memories flooded my head, making me want to U-turn in the middle of the road and apologize for leaving. I wanted to go back and beg to make this work, despite the hurt that covered the entirety of my body. 

But the song kept playing and I kept driving. The lyrics filled up the empty car with its remorseful sound between the broken cries that came from my chest. The music flowed and embedded itself into my soul, finding a place between my ribs to live forever. A strum of the guitar will now hold power over my mind and my heart. 

My phone ringing in my cup holder halted the cries that were cursing my chest. The pale light illuminated the dark car with a picture of a couple. Me and him. His contact picture. I looked at the clock on top of my radio and saw that technically I should be home from work right now, walking through the door to greet a happy fiance. 

Each ring and vibration wracked through my body, trying to force my hand to reach into the holder and slide my finger across “answer”, but I refused myself. A song may hold control over, but that did not mean that he had to, as well. I will have to carry these memories along with this song for the rest of my life. I did not have to carry him.