“We Can Go Now”
“We can go now,” Zack said quickly, almost desperate. “Set up the appointment. I’ll come, I promise, I’ll come to every session.”
“Of course you will,” I said quietly. “Now that you can see I’m actually serious about leaving. But you don’t care enough, even now, to find a therapist and make that appointment yourself. You still need me to do it.”
“Please, Kelly,” he begged. “Please just give me one chance to make you happy.”
I looked at him for a long moment, and something deep and sad settled over my heart. I shook my head slowly. “At any point over the last thirty years,” I told him, “I would have given absolutely anything to hear you say those words to me. But now, looking at you, all I feel is sadness. And pity, if I’m being completely honest. You never once bothered to make me happy before today, Zack. And I am not wasting one more day of my life waiting around for you to finally start.”
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Venice Beach
The next day, I moved out. I found myself a charming little apartment in Venice Beach and started building a new life from scratch. I sold my car and started cycling everywhere instead — even to work, rain or shine.
My children were shocked by the whole thing, especially my oldest daughter, Amy, who told me their father was completely devastated and had started seeing a therapist for depression. I felt for him, genuinely. But for the first time in longer than I could remember, my own happiness came first, and I wasn’t going to apologize for that.
I took up dancing. I made new friends who had nothing to do with my old life. I threw out the dowdy, careful wardrobe I’d spent decades buying specifically to please Zack, and I changed my hairstyle for the first time in years. My kids were stunned — they told me I looked twenty years younger, practically overnight.
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And they were right, in a way that had nothing to do with makeup or clothes. I felt younger. Happier. More beautiful, more energetic, filled with a kind of hope I’d genuinely forgotten was possible at my age.
A year later, I met Sam — kind, thoughtful, the sort of man who spoils me and showers me with love and attention without me ever having to ask for it. He wants to marry me. I’ll admit, some part of me is still a little nervous about taking that particular leap again after everything.
