Hopes and Dreams

‘Yes ma’am, this is a courtesy call from ABC self-storage. We will be auctioning off your storage unit on March 8th, so you have till the end of the week to remove whatever belongings you would like to keep.’ The woman professionally informs Emeri.

‘The end of the week? Auction off my belongings? On my birthday? Seriously? What are you talking about? My ex-husband, Johnathan Archer, pays for that unit. It’s in our divorce decree for him to pay!’ Emeri rambles as confusion distorts her face.

‘Yes maam he was but he removed his credit card six months ago.’ She politely explains.

‘Six months! But.. why… when…. Ughhh!’ Emeri exclaims in shock as the hate for her ex pools in her stomach; Tears sting her eyes as the memories of her marriage sear her brain. All of the control and physical abuse; the gaslighting and manipulation. All the memories that lead up to that awful night and now this. 

‘How much?’ Emeri grits out through clenched teeth.

‘Excuse me ma’am?’ The lady asks incredulously.

‘How much to get my unit back? How much money to get you off my phone, ma’am?’ Emeri asks sharply -allowing the venomous disdain to ooze from her voice.

‘The unit was $548 behind but that is a moot point because it’s already been acquired by the storage facility. Your only two option is to collect your belongings or not. Period.’ The lady curtly states. ‘And I don’t appreciate you implying that I can be bought.’

‘And I don’t appreciate you …’ Emeri starts, ‘Never mind. Just never-mind. Thank you for letting me know about the storage unit.’ She angrily finishes as she ends the call and closes her eyes tightly. Keep it together.. don’t lose your composure over a storage unit she tells herself as she grinds her nails into her palm to keep the tears from escaping her eyes. But it’s not about the storage unit -and Emeri knows that - it’s about the memories in that storage unit. All her belongings that she was allowed to take when her horrendous marriage of fifteen years ended. Photos, appliances, clothes, decor, etc; all the things she had collected while trying to pretend she had the perfect family. All the things that Emeri shoved into the unit a year ago because hiding them was easier than shattering all the false memories. And that’s what would happen because each item had a memory that was covered in sugar and pink glitter but shit is still shit, even if it’s covered in sugar and pink glitter.

Over the next two days, Emeri’s anxiety over her looming deadline only grew. At first, she tried to tell herself to just let it go. Leave it and let them auction it. Why did she even care? She hasn’t seen, touched, or thought about anything in that unit for a year and she was fine. But she knew there was one thing in that storage unit that she didn’t dare lose; the only thing with enough pull to force her to confront her past- A past that was the reason for Emeri’s functioning anxiety and PTSD; The baby book that contained the ultrasound of her son. The only picture she has of the only pregnancy she was able to momentarily enjoy. Conceiving hadn’t been the problem; the six miscarriages had proven that. No, her problem had been her left fallopian tube which was badly scarred and blocked. It had been a miracle when her doctor told her she was pregnant.

‘Looks like this one knew the right path!’ Dr. Allen announced happily as she proceeded to print out the small ultrasound picture that had hi mommy typed in the bottom left corner. 

Emeri clenches her eyes tightly and allows her fingernails to cut into her palm to try and control the emotions surging through her body. The tears that want to release so badly; the tremors that quickly take over her body; the ball of anxiety that fills her stomach. Breathe. Breathe. It’s the past. You are not a victim, you are a survivor Emery slowly chanted to herself, remembering what her yoga instructor taught her and allowing her body to release the crippling memories of the control that Jonathan had once wielded over her. The memories of the miscarriage she had at twenty-four weeks pregnant. The memories of Jonathan leaving her two weeks later for his girlfriend who was twenty weeks pregnant. 

‘It’s a Boy, Emeri. And we are naming him Jonathan Archer III.’ Jonathan coldly stated.

‘No! No! You can’t do that! That’s our son's name. You CAN NOT take that from me. Please. Please don’t do this.’ Emeri sobbed hysterically as she begged him to be reasonable. 

‘We don’t have a son. Remember? You aren’t woman enough to have a baby.’ He heartlessly spat as he turned and left her in a crumpled heap in the middle of their living room. That had been the last time she saw her monstrous ex-husband. He filed for divorce by the end of the week, was remarried to his new wife sixty days later, and welcomed a healthy baby boy on June 19th. The same day Emeri tried to end her life. It had just been too much and the temptation of peace that the handful of sleeping pills had quietly seduced her with had won. She only survived because her nosey neighbor, Mrs. Anders, had stopped by to check on her after hearing from another gossipy neighbor that Jonathan’s baby had been born. Mrs. Anders had found her collapsed on the living room floor, the empty pill bottle close by, and called 911. 

But she survived and voluntarily committed herself to a psychiatric facility for a thirty-day evaluation. In those thirty days, she had learned to control her anxiety through yoga while allowing her wounds to heal; emotional and physical.

And if you survived that, you can survive this Emeri seethes as she squares her shoulder and straightens her back. Tomorrow You will go to that storage unit, get baby Jonathan’s ultrasound -fuck everything else- and cut this final tie to your past. You are stronger than this and deserve a happy life. Tomorrow this ends. 

The next morning Emeri quickly finishes her morning coffee and shower in record time due to not wanting to lose her nerve but it only momentarily works. As she pulls up to the dingy blue metal building and keys in her code, all the anxiety came slamming into her body and she could feel her airway getting tighter. Her heart begins racing, nausea fills her stomach and the horribly familiar weight on her chest begins getting heavier. Breathe. Breathe. It’s the past. You are not a victim, you are a survivor Emeri recites quietly, allowing her breathing to lessen the excruciating weight on her chest that was stealing her air. As the seconds tick by, Emeri’s anxiety loosened its grip on her and she was able to open her eyes. 

With a deep inhale, she shoves her key into the padlock and opens the loud rickety metal door that she hadn’t laid eyes on for a year. The stale scent 

of

mothballs and mildew slam her in the face causing her nausea to surge into her throat.

Emeri swallows down the nausea and surveys the dust-ridden items in front of her.

‘What is that?’ She murmurs to herself as she walks toward a glint of metal reflecting under a heavy blue tarp in the very back of the unit. She carefully pulls the tarp causing a cloud of dust to go flying in the air and her to erupt into a sneezing fit. As the dust clears and Emeri’s sneezing finally stops, she beheld the last thing she was expecting to see- her bike. Her mouth fell open and a shock froze her face as the memories surge through her mind. Memories of being fed up with Jonathan’s control after five years so for the first -and last time -she did something for herself; she bought a bike for herself. And not just a normal bike, no this bike was beautiful. The most beautiful thing she had seen in years with its bright pink frame, shiny silver accents, and a perfect white wicker basket hanging on the front. It had taken her three months of siphoning off her grocery allowance to save the three hundred and forty-five dollars that it cost. But the day she reached her goal, her eyes danced with excitement as she gifted it to herself behind Jonathan’s back. This bike was going to give her brief moments of freedom; she could finally go places on her own. Before this she was dependent on Jonathan because he didn’t think she needed a car- it was an added useless expense. She was so excited that Jonathan’s hateful rant hadn’t even discouraged her.

‘What the fuck do you need a bike for? Your lazy ass isn’t going to ever ride it. And you better not slack on keeping my house clean for some wasteful joy ride around the block. You know how you are when your mind gets in the clouds. Lazy. You get real lazy.’ He sneered as watched the excitement leak from Emeri’s face.

‘I have to go to work. One of us has to make some money instead of blowing it on dumb shit. That laundry better be done and my dinner ready when I get home.’ Jonathan belittled as he walked out the front door. 

But she hadn’t let him steal her joy. This bike was HERS and even he couldn’t take that from her. Or she thought. 

She had only been able to enjoy it for two days before it disappeared. The first day was a ride to the grocery store two blocks away and had been as exhilarating as a rollercoaster. The wind blew through her hair and the fresh clean air was lightly seasoned with scents from the little cafe attached to the grocery store. The sweet scent of streusel, cinnamon rolls, and fresh donuts caused Emeri to inhale deeply and smile. 

We are definitely getting one of those! She had thought happily. And she did. And it was delicious. But she knew better than to keep that smile on her face when Jonathan got home. If he had seen how happy her excursion had made her, he would have begun the accusations. He would have berated her about wasting time and how lazy she was to enjoy such a frivolous thing. So she wiped the smile off her face and replaced it with her normal sullen look, playing the role Jonathan wanted till the next day when she went back to the cafe to enjoy an iced coffee and a blueberry streusel while reading her favorite book. She got so distracted she was late fixing dinner and Jonathan was so furious he wouldn’t even speak to her for the remainder of the night. The next morning it was gone; stolen in the night according to Jonathan. Some thugs must have snatched it, he had told her as a tear slipped down her cheek. But she knew better; she knew Jonathan had gotten rid of it to punish her and the rancid taste of captivity had settled in her mouth and stomach once again- replacing the sugary sweetness of the delicious blueberries streusel. 

But there it was- the personification of hope and dreams - staring at her. She could hear the whisper as it asks are you ready to live Emeri? Are you ready to live a life where you get to indulge in a bike ride and blueberry streusel as often as you want? A life that you and only you controls? 

‘Yes, yes I am.’ Emeri smiles as she wheels the dingy bike out of the storage unit and loads it into the back of her beat-up ford ranger. As she returns to the storage to retrieve her ultrasound of baby Jonathan, there wasn’t any more anxiety or sadness. No, there were only hopes and dreams clouding her mind as she clutches her precious ultrasound and left that dingy storage unit, and all the abhorrent memories, in her rearview mirror. Tomorrow is a new day and it will begin with a bike ride, iced coffee, and a blueberry streusel.