May 25, 2005

“God, Pammy!” he practically screamed. “Do you realize how much I spent on the fucking wedding?!” He threw another ceramic plate against the wall. She was glad he owned the place and she was the one leaving. She had no idea how she would pay for all of the dents he was making in the walls of their kitchen and dining room.

“I’ll miss this gorgeous kitchen,” she thought as she woefully ran a hand along the dark granite countertops.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated for the hundredth time.

“What are you even going to do?” he asked as his massive frame cornered her between the refrigerator and garbage compactor.

She shrugged simply, keeping her gaze away from him, “Probably go back to art school or something.” She had no idea how she’d pay for it. She hardly even knew how she was going to afford an apartment in New York City. She’d probably have to move into a slum with the money that she had. She hadn’t had a job since she moved in with Roy eight years ago. He had been the one to bring in all the money playing football.

“Art school?” he bellowed. “Art school?!?” She nodded. “Why, of all things would you go to art school?”

“I like art and I don’t have very many other talents,” she replied. “And it’s not like I can find a whole lot of work with a high school diploma and two years of college.”

“But Pammy…” he sighed and looked down at her as if she was a little child. “I told you when you dropped out…there is no need for you to go to school! Especially art school.”

“Yes,” she said flatly. “You told me. You told me that you would take care of me for the rest of my life. You told me that I’d never have to work another day. You told me that taking art classes was pointless. You told me that art was pointless and that if I really wanted to do something worthwhile with my time that I should marry you right away and we would have little Roy Anderson Juniors.” She crossed her arms and looked him squarely in the eyes this time.

“And what did you do?” he asked.

“I realized that we’re not living in the year 1950 and that I should get out of this god damned relationship!” she cried up at him.

“No, you embarrassed me and yourself in front of all of our friends and family,” he said placing his heavy hands on her shoulders. She sighed. She wondered if he ever listened to a single word that she had ever said.

“I’m leaving,” she said. “Deal with it.” She quickly and nimbly maneuvered her way around his body and picked up a large duffel bag from the floor.

“How are you even going to afford a place to stay?” he asked, hands placed squarely on his hips. “How the hell do you think you’re going to pay for art school of all things?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “New York is expensive, babe.”

“I’ll find a way,” she said quietly as she picked up another duffel sitting in the living room. He followed her slowly as she made her way around the living area of their house – his house.

“Where are you going?” he asked as she went to open the door and picked up a large box sitting next to it. “The wedding was last week; you can’t have a place to stay already.”

“I’m going to go stay with my mom for a little while,” she said quietly.

“Come on, Pammy,” he said as he reached out and stroked softly at her cheek. “You don’t really want to leave me.” She sighed as she kicked open the door with her foot and walked out onto the doorstep. “Babe, we can work things out! I’ll…I’ll…I’ll take you on a really nice trip when the season is over. We can go anywhere you want! Hawaii! The Caribbean!”

“No and no,” she said calmly as she walked around to the back of her old car she had had since high school and popped open the trunk with her knee.

“Europe!” he exclaimed. “You’ve always said you want to go to Paris and see all of the art in the…uh…”

“Louvre,” she finished.

“Right! The Loo…whatever.”

“Louvre,” she repeated.

“Right, right,” he said, his eyes were pleading, he looked like he was about to drop down onto his knees and wrap his arms around her waist like a little child. “I’ll take you anywhere you want. I’ll do anything you want. Anything! Just…don’t leave. We can work these things out, Pammy! We always have!”

“No,” she said as she threw one of the duffel bags into the trunk. She reached up and stroked his stubbly cheek tentatively. “This isn’t something that we can just smooth over. This isn’t something that we can just ‘work out’. Nothing has just ‘worked out’ between the two of us. Not in a long, long time.”

“Take it back,” he growled.

“No,” she said as she threw the second duffel into the trunk.

“But Pammy…”

“Don’t call me Pammy,” she said softly.

“But I’ve always called you Pammy,” he said as he reached out and ran a rough hand along her shoulder.

“I know, and I’ve hated it for about the past five years,” she said as she lifted the box and shoved it into her trunk with the rest of her things. He opened his mouth to say something but the words were lost. He looked down at the empty pavement at Pam’s feet and his eyes traveled back upward and he looked her in the eyes.

“Please,” he said quietly. “Don’t go. Just…stay. Stay another night. We can go get a nice dinner somewhere or…”

“No,” she cut him off. It seemed like she had been saying ‘no’ so much in the past week. She couldn’t wait to just leave once and for all. “Just…no. I’ve made up my mind, Roy. I’m going to my mother’s. I’m not coming back here.”

“But…”

“Roy,” she looked up at him and planted her hands firmly into his shoulders. “I’m sorry, but I just have to leave.” He opened his mouth again and she placed her hand against his lips. “Don’t call me. Give me some time, okay?” She felt his lips move against her hand. “Promise. Promise to give me some time to myself.” He sighed into her palm and her hand fell away.

“Okay,” he said quietly as his eyes went back to the ground.

“Again, I’m sorry,” she said as she stood on her tip toes and planted a small kiss on his cheek. She walked around to the side of her car and opened up the door. “Try not to wreck yourself, please.” He nodded as she slipped into the driver’s seat.

“I love you, Pammy,” he said quietly. She smiled.

“Bye Roy,” she said as she closed the door and started the car.

She backed out of the driveway, trying to fight back tears as she got further and further from the man that she had grown so accustomed to, that she had made a life with. As her eyes traveled around her backseat via the rearview mirror she was fascinated and depressed at how her entire life fit into her old, beat up car. Everything that she had come accustomed to was Roy’s, provided by Roy or paid for by Roy. All she had left was a few duffel bags of clothing, some art supplies, a couple boxes of books, and some knick-knacks she had collected over the years. She had no furniture, she had no home necessities. The weight and pressure from Roy may have been lifted away from her body, but a whole new fear started to settle in her gut. She was really starting over from scratch. The life that she had led since high school was rapidly fading away from her rear view mirror and she had no idea what was laid out on the open road in front of her.