The texts were coming every few seconds, and they were coming to all of us.
OK hes crying now, begging her to stay, asking what about us girls
The three of us exchange glances and the tension is thick. At any moment, we’re going go. The oldest daughter is keeping us posted.
Cant hear what shes saying, trying to reason with him, were all upstairs packing our stuff
This is settling in on us now, what we’re about to do. She’s leaving him and his years of abuse and the girls are getting to leave behind the only house they’ve ever known.
Mom says wait ten more minutes hell go out to the garage and we can go
Ten more minutes feels like ten hours. It begins to snow. In April. We make idle small talk while our husbands hover by, ready to move their furniture, clothes, and personals as fast as we can. We’re not exactly sure how he’ll react when he sees us show up.
OK mom says come
And the six of us climb into our respective vehicles and head to her house, husbands grip the steering wheels the whole way. Our stomachs have dropped about three feet. Please don’t let this turn to violence. Let us get their stuff and get the hell out.
And we aren’t leaving without them, either.