Yet.
Warriors in battle keep their weapons close, and my weapon is time. The opportunity to escape free and clear will come. I just have to give it time, to endure until the situation changes and my opening presents itself.
In time, I will escape. Only, nothing has gone right from the beginning, and now I have Marisa to think about. Seven years of hell I have endured, buying my time, and with it came the last three years of the heaven I see in my little girl’s eyes.
Monte isn’t an active dad. He has only held her when we have an audience. Behind closed doors, my daughter is nothing but another mouth for him to feed, another debt for me to repay.
Reasons and excuses—they are like checks and balances. We all have reasons and excuses for everything we do or don’t do.
Marisa is his excuse for keeping me around. She’s a way to manipulate and control me.
However, she’s my reason for everything. No excuse is acceptable for letting her down. I won’t fail. The cycle ends with her. I have to put her first.
With that in mind, I started my housewife hustle, played my part. Every chance I get, I score my load, hide it away until the time is right to make my escape.
I have had seven years to earn some freedoms like the grocery store, my greatest adventure. Although Monte gives me cash and a grocery list, he didn’t make it far in this world without being a smart man, so of course he wants the change and the receipt. The items have to match.
He has one area of ignorance, though—women’s needs. Once I realized he wouldn’t attend my gynecology exams, I had my doctor insert an IUD that makes my period practically go away. Since Monte didn’t care if we had more children or not, he wasn’t concerned with my not taking birth control pills. This created the perfect cover.
Each month at the grocery store, I purchase feminine products in bulk, and he never questions the purchases. I buy double, sometimes triple what I would normally need. Then, using a calendar, I make sure to use the smallest amount so the trash can shows the use of some of the products.
Before he gets home on shopping days, I make a copy of the receipt. I’ve scanned my rewards card so the receipt can be looked up in the computer. Since he isn’t home when I leave for the store, he doesn’t see me return the items for cash.
I cut the liner of Marisa’s suitcase and hide my stash there, being sure to keep the opening hidden, the money flush against the fabric. It took time, but every little bit counts, and in three years, I have managed some savings. I’m not nearly ready, but something is better than nothing.
Things were actually going pretty well, all things considered. That should have been my first clue that something was off. How did I miss the clues before this moment?
I return home from the store, and as I unload the groceries, I hear a noise upstairs. Marisa is away with Jamie, my one real friend in this crazy life. Jamie’ll keep her until I get the groceries put away, and then she’ll bring her back to me. As a result, there shouldn’t be anyone home to make noise except me.
Trying to tell myself I’m hearing things, I keep at my task. However, the moans sound again, and I follow the noise, thinking someone broke into the house.
Only, they didn’t.
No, I make my way to the bedroom, the very room I have shared with Monte, night in and night out, for years now, and tied to my bed is a very pregnant, very young blonde.
“Hailey, what the fuck?” Monte roars as he continues to thrust into the woman on the bed without missing a beat.
My mouth opens and closes like a fish’s. This whole mess just goes from bad to worse. What the hell do I say? I don’t give a shit that he’s fucking around, except for the fact that he doesn’t wrap it up even with me standing right there, and he’s in my damn bed!
The girl bites her bottom lip, moaning like she is a well-practiced porn star while watching me as my husband continues his rhythm. Standing there, motionless from shock, I can only gape.
Then the chick shakes her head vigorously, as if she is fighting her climax, and Monte turns his attention to her, then slams into her hard as she wails out her pleasure. All the while, I fight to keep from hurling.
“Don’t worry; the baby isn’t his,” the girl reassures.
“You think that’s what I’m worried about?” I laugh at them both. Then, without another word, I turn and walk out of my bedroom. Trying to calm my trembling hands, I attempt to think.