Retail Therapy

Allison stood at the doorway, looking back at Will. Her heart sunk. She wished tears would roll down her cheeks. At least then she would feel something, but they refused to. She felt stiff, her own body refusing to move, paralyzed. Her emotions numb.

“Goodbye,” she muttered, begging herself internally not to fall back into Will’s arms on dreary nights, when there was no one to talk to except for the moon.

“I love you.”

“I don’t want anything, Allison.”

He didn’t bother to say he was sorry for what he had done. He didn’t cry. His voice was neutral, devoid of emotion.

“Fuck you! You’ve used me. You’ve abused me. You’ve harassed me. You didn’t even have feelings for me? What the hell is wrong with you, Will?”

She slammed the door and walked out, then, as she was leaving, turned around.

I have to end well if I want to never come back.

She came back into the room.

“Will, I’m sorry I got frustrated. Goodbye. Wish you the best.”

“Hug?”

“Sure.”

“You too.”

He started playing video games right before she left.

This man could literally not care any less. I don’t know what I ever saw in him. All he does is go hunting and fishing, and play XBOX. He only wanted one thing. I should’ve known. I did know. He’s just cute, funny, smart…He can be so sweet at times, but Jesus, I know better.

As Allison was walking home, she spotted a beautiful long red gown in one of the clothing shops, Maria’s, and stepped inside. Her heart stopped aching just a bit as she sorted through the various dresses. She found some cheetah-print lingerie and a black dress that fit like a glove. Even after hours of shopping, she couldn’t bring herself to let go of the red dress. There was something about it that caught her eye. She looked at the price tag.

$500.

She gasped. Then she walked out of the store to avoid engaging in retail therapy, yet, as she did so, she started to consider her achievements of the day.

I guess maybe I only wanted to control Will. I suppose it wasn’t anything other than that. I really appreciated when he was nice to me, but he always drove me crazy and was only nice to me when I was emotionally fragile and wanted to have sex with him. Convenient…I suppose I deserve a nice dress. My rent is paid and, honestly, I’ve been saving for months. I should reward myself for walking away from a dysfunctional relationship. I deserve it.

She walked resolutely back to the store and quickly picked up the red dress and hurried to the cash register.

The cashier said, “Hello. $510.00.”

“I thought it was $500?”

“Yes, Miss, but it’s $510.00 with tax.”

“Okay.”

She gave the cashier her credit card.

“Would you like a bag?”

“Do I have to pay for one?” Allison joked.

“Actually yes, you do. We charge $0.10 per bag.”

Allison chuckled to herself.

Of course they charged 10 cents per bag. Nothing was free these days.

“Sure. Why not? I’ll take a bag, please.”

“Yes, Miss. Have a good day.”

“You too. Thank you.”

Allison walked out of that store with a skip in her step.

My first day of freedom.

Allison went home. She hung the dress up in her closet, trying not to think about breaking things off with Will.

We were never actually dating. It was casual forever. He only wanted me for my body. I kept hoping he wanted more, but he never did. Once he was ‘joking around' with me and put a gun to my head threatening to kill me.

“Loosen up, Allison. It’s just a joke,” he laughed hysterically.

“Guns aren’t a joke, Will. Is that thing loaded?”

“Maybe,” he chuckled as he held it to my head.

“Chill out. It’s just a role play. I’m not actually going to do anything. I just want to play police officer. You go to jail and I rule the world. Cool?”

I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t want to go to jail, Will. Why do you always get to be the police officer?”

“Well. I might let you if you go to jail like ten times. You’re the woman. I’m the man, remember?”

I suppressed a tear and sighed.

“Whatever.”

We’d only been five and six years old at the time. He’d gotten his hands on his dad’s gun. He’d always had a morbid way of playing. Then again, there was that other time, when he’d travelled fifty miles to help me fix my flat tire and I was stuck in the middle of nowhere. We were casually dating for the third year in a row. We only had sex, but he’d called it casual dating in the last month so that there was a minute hope of it going somewhere.

Sexist asshole…But maybe he’s just afraid of commitment.

I tried not to throw up at the thought. I’d always been so overly forgiving of him, talked myself out of leaving him all of the times he’d screwed up, picked up my bootstraps even though I was having nightmares every time I closed my eyes about him killing me, and kept being loyal and committed to him, hoping that, someday, somehow, he would change for me. Hoping that his comments about going to dinner or going hiking, simple things for most men, but not for Will, would someday come to pass. Hoping that his promises might somehow remain unbroken. I’d been wrong. The moment I’d held him accountable, he had told me he was finished with me. With us. With everything.

That was that. I was relieved it was over, shocked, and upset with myself for letting this man ruin my life for so many years, for being so stupid that I thought he might someday commit to me.

Foolish woman. You're lucky you got out when you did.

I thought to myself. I said to the air, “To the next chapter!” and I downed a shot of whiskey.