Rejected.
My first pick school, my undergraduate home, and like Dillon…all things familiar. They didn’t want me, something I could relate to over and over again. No thanks, it read. Good luck with your future endeavors because we’re highly competitive and you didn’t make the cut. Those weren’t the exact flowery words, but if you’ve experienced rejection more than once you get a new appreciation for denial and emotional distance.
Disappointment kept me from opening the second one immediately. The standard envelope had a return address from Hastings-Albrecht University. A small school in Woodland Creek, Indiana, that focused mainly on science programs with a few advanced degrees, particularly their Master’s of Education degree in Science. Ever since I was little, I dreamed of making exploding volcano models with kids. The thought of science fairs for the young and innovative minds made me happy, well…minus any rocket bearing felines, of course.
Hastings-Albrecht University was a long shot and just as, if not more, competitive than Michigan University if I got accepted. The feelings threatened to swallow me whole again and on a wild whim I ripped the envelope open. Just like a Band-Aid, I forced myself to get the news over with. If I got accepted, I’d have to live on campus and work as a part of their scholars program in the local school district since I was an education major. It was by no means my safety school, but it was one that wasn’t here in Ann Arbor with the program I wanted to study.
Anxiety made my fingers shake and the ripped-up envelope mocked me. If Michigan didn’t want me, what were the odds that Hastings-Albrecht would want me? With grimness, I knew I needed to do this for myself. If I didn’t make a change, nobody else would for me. Whether I was accepted or not, I needed to separate myself from this relationship even if it came in baby steps. I nearly decimated the second envelope, getting to the letter inside with shaking, sweaty palms.
We are pleased to cordially invite you to be a part of the incoming class of 2018 for the Master’s of Education and Sciences program. Please note that this conditional offer in the Scholars Program is based on your agreement to reside on the Hastings-Albrecht University campus and undertake part-time employment in a job placement suited to your degree major...
Holy shit and duck for cover came to mind as I looked around the empty kitchen crazily to make sure it wasn’t addressed to anyone else.
Nope.
Just one Kerri Annalise Harper.
Chapter Two
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by…” Robert Frost
KERRI
Blurred lines and gray muck smudged the dusky summer sky. “Damn it, I can’t see anything in this mess.” Squinting my eyes against the freak late August storm, I wished I remembered to grab my driving glasses from Dillon, the dickweed’s condo. Nearly seven hours on the road and so close to my destination I was drained physically and emotionally. I would bet twenty bucks Carter stashed my glasses somewhere. I palmed the dashboard’s defogger, hoping it would kick in against the hail dropping rain beating my compact car. I moved my head around to the one clear part of my windshield left, praying the rain relented. The darker it got the worse my sight became. The balled tires of my car occasionally slipped from the road’s surface, jerking my hands on the wheel, making my heart beat with uncertainty.
Two days of continual rain leading up to my leaving Ann Arbor, and all I wanted was to arrive at my destination in one piece...alive. A headache nudged my periphery from having to concentrate so hard. My fingers tapped on the steering wheel as I hummed to Ellie Goulding’s Love Me Like You Do. Sorrow filled my center with an ache that threatened to crack my chest wide open. Does anyone love me? I wasn’t sure I even loved myself after this last fight with Dillon. I was glad Carter wasn’t home to see any of it, spending time with his grandparents. What the hell was I thinking, provoking him like that? The hurtful things he said played back like vicious slices to my skin.
Rain pelted the windshield harder as my little green Honda Civic plugged through. If I had more energy, I’d probably cry over my stupidity. As it was, I needed all my strength to get through this drive on these back ass roads. I’d passed Indianapolis about an hour back off the interstate and should have been coming up to the turn off for Woodland Creek soon.
I should have listened to the weather report and better prepared myself for leaving…but as usual I wasn’t thinking when Dillon was busy yelling in my face, calling me names that now just hazed together. His favorites were fat cow, lazy stump, and the oldie but goodie...stupid worthless bitch. Once he got going I was pretty well schooled in ignoring those insults.
Why had I stayed so long? The answer was easy on my lips, but hurt my heart. I was lonely and a little broken, that was
for sure. Why hadn’t I left sooner? Most people assumed our relationship was fine because I never complained and he behaved well in public. I never gave any indication of how bad things had gotten over the past seven years of being together. I was practically his wife without any of the benefits and a stand-in mother to his son.
What would I say? He hadn’t hit me…and the emotional bruises weren’t visible to the people I needed to believe me in order for me to be strong enough to leave. My parents thought Dillon was wonderful. After all, who would date their frumpy, bookish daughter when my other three sisters were happily married or in relationships to wonderful men, living perfect little lives with perfect identical children. Dillon was apparently the answer to everyone else’s dreams. Good-looking and bright software engineer and me the little wannabe school teacher.
Dillon Sexton was fast becoming my nightmare…one that hadn’t quite manifested itself until I told him I was finally leaving to finish my education and pursue teaching full-time. His long term babysitter and girlfriend were giving notice and he was less than understanding as I dumped another box of my personal belongings into my car.
His twisted face haunted me, hurtful words, and him pulling my belongings from the car, dumping them in the driveway. It was like he snapped, behaving like an adult toddler who was finally told no.
If I can just get to Woodland Creek tonight I will be all right. The folder of admissions information lay on the passenger seat. Hastings-Albrecht University, Lupin Hall, room 34 was waiting for me. I repeated the mantra in my head, thinking how great it would be to see my sister Kourtney and her husband, Brian, along with my nieces and nephew once I got settled. They lived just two hours or so south of Woodland Creek, closer to Lexington, Kentucky.
Drawn out of my musing by the radio, Ellie Goulding was singing how she couldn’t think straight, and I was right there with her. Heck, with the rain pounding on my car, I couldn’t see clearly either. Love is stupid and I didn’t want to love anyone for a long time after this.
With each passing minute it grew darker and the non-existent sun was setting. There were lights ahead of me on the narrow two-lane road, a large truck by the looks of the muted twin lights that appeared like thick pillows in the humid fog. Idiot had his high beams on, momentarily blinding me. I cupped my hand over my face to focus on the road but couldn’t quite manage it. I could just make out the yellow lines of the road and realized he wasn’t staying in his lane.
Shit.
He was practically barreling down the road swerving into my side, drifting so far outside of his lane. Panic gripped my chest and my heart seemed to slow down as he got closer and closer. Forcing air in and out of my chest as the seconds pressed on, one, two, three, I focused on the road in front of me. I couldn’t see much between the fog and the rain drops as big as quarters, the closer he got. He was going to hit my car and there was nothing I could do about it. My breathing hitched again, one, two, three. The ditch to the side didn’t look too deep, but who knew what was in it. I didn’t want to hit anything, but I didn’t want to die in a mangled wreck.
I clutched the steering wheel, knuckles white, and prayed. “No, please, God, no, not tonight.” I repeated the names of my nieces, Laurie, Beth and my nephew, Max. The truck zipped by me, missing me by inches, and I breathed deeply, the muscles releasing in a relieved tangle. I was almost sure he was close enough to peel paint off my jalopy car if the hail hasn’t done so already. I shivered with a cold sweat from the nerves and fiddled with the defogger again, hoping to get it working. I tried opening my window a crack, which made it worse with rain pelting inside, soaking my shoulder. I looked up between the road and the panel, trying to get the right setting. Too hot and it fogged more, too cold and it fogged more. Those damn things never work anyway and maybe I was expecting too much from a twelve-year-old car.
Suddenly, honking brought my attention back to see the glare of headlights in my face. Before I could give it much thought, I realized I was the jerk crossing the yellow line and swerved my car to avoid hitting the pickup truck.
Crap!
Shit!