“I’m trying.” I sighed, willing myself to explain that it was going to take time for me to overcome everything and get back on my feet in order to stick up for myself.
She murmured. ????“I just worry about you.”
I smiled, it was nice having at least one person on my team. “I know you do.” Glancing up at the calendar on the fridge, I couldn’t help but notice the snowy mountain landscape. “HeySummer?” I couldn’t believe I was getting ready to say this. “I think I’m moving.” ????
The sound on the other end told me she had just spit out her beverage. “What? Where?”
“I’m going to Colorado.”
Thirteen
Val
The scent of cardboard and old dust was the perfume of my impending freedom. My entire house was now a war zone of half-packed boxes and trash bags full of discarded memories I couldn’t wait to forget. Each item I touched that contained memories James and I shared felt heavy, not just with its own weight, but with the weight of everything I was desperate to leave behind.
Colorado.
It still sounded unreal, a destination on a postcard rather than my soon to be reality. I smoothed my hand over the slightly worn cover of an MMA magazine Mark had given me. I should have probably thrown it in the trash, but I tossed it into a box with the rest of my books. That was the core of it, really. The reason for the upheaval, the cross-country leap into the unknown.
Fighting had taken over my life and I hoped the gymthatcoach worked in would be willing to take on a new member. While part of me felt like I should have been searching for a female trainer, there was something about the coach I had seenon TV. I couldn’t stop thinking about getting out of here and moving there from the moment I had seen that match the first time, and now it was streaming everywhere. ??
I picked up a framed photo of Summer and I from the night she colored my hair. Our faces were bright with the invincibility and unwillingness of letting just any man boss us around and tell us what we could and couldn’t do with our hair. Leaving her was the hardest part. The absolute hardest. More than leaving my past, more than leaving the wreckage ofhim. She was my anchor, my constant companion even if we went weeks without seeing each other.
Who would I call at 3 AM when the world felt like too much? Well, I suppose I would still call her. ??But who would show up with ice cream and bad movies after a brutal training session? That was it. That was the part.
The thoughts of James and Mark were both still raw in my mind. The image of their faces, the almost imperceptible deepening of Mark’s voice as he whispered, “Now I’ve got you where I want you,” flashed through my mind.
This most recent memory wasn’t just the physical violation, the unexpected lurch of his body against mine, the throbbing package I had felt pressed against me. It was the calculated cruelty and the quiet power play.
Suddenly, it hit me. Mark saw me as something to behadand something to bebroken.
I had enough.
???He knew what I had been through with James and he took advantage of my vulnerability and in turn tried to convince me of things which were simply not true. I wanted to hate him for it. In the final moment between Mark and I, I was angry. Frustration simmered and a new fear began to form, it was the first time it had happened since James.
His name was a bitter taste in my mouth. Then Mark, with his casual disregard, had torn open a wound I thought was healing. He had confirmed my deepest fear: the world was full of men who saw women as objects, as conquests, as things to be controlled.
I had been so furious. Completely blinded by rage. The accidental knee to the groin wasn’t accidental at all, not really. It was an instinct, a primal lash-out from a cornered animal. As I’d stood up, shaking, declaring myself done, I finally realized it wasn’t just me being done with the sparring session, or with Mark, or even with the suffocating gym environment. No, I was done with being vulnerable to men like them. Done with letting their twisted sense of entitlement define my space, my passion, and my sense of self.
After telling Summer on the phone I was going to Colorado, I’d started looking at houses. It wasn’t even official yet, not really. I had mumbled something about needing a change, a new training environment. She’d always been good at reading between the lines, but I think even she hadn’t fully grasped the desperation driving me.
This move wasn’t just about pursuing MMA. It was about escaping. Escaping the ghosts, escaping the constant, low-level hum of anxiety. Escaping the feeling of always looking over my shoulder.
Colorado was a clean slate, a place where the air might actually feel lighter. Somewhere I could breathe without the weight of past traumas pressing down on me. It was something I was looking forward to.
A sudden rap at the front door made me jump, nearly dropping the picture. “Hey, it’s just me,” I could hear Summer’s voice, muffled by the wood. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah, come in,” I managed, my voice a little rougher with emotion than I intended. I quickly placed the photo in a bubble-wrap cocoon. She pushed the door open, her arms laden with a pizza box and a bottle of wine.
Her eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were a little subdued, taking in the skeletal remains of my home. “Wow,” she said, her voice soft. “It’s really happening, isn’t it?”
I gave a weak shrug, trying to be nonchalant. “Looks like it!”
Summer carefully navigated the obstacle course of my belongings, setting the food down on the counter. “I brought comfort food. Figured you’d be too busy packing to remember proper sustenance.” She glanced around the room. “I just can’t believe you’re going through with this.”
I laughed. “You figured right,” I admitted, wasting no time reaching for a slice. This cheesy, greasy goodness was exactly what I needed. We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds were the rustle of the box and our chewing. It was moments like these I would miss most.
“So,” Summer began, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Colorado. For real. Are you excited?”