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The Road to Baton Rouge - Part One

Issue Date: Monday, Jul. 11, 2005

As she drove to work fighting back the tears she tried not to go over their fight in her mind. She never knew how a benign little phrase like, “How was your evening?” could shatter her. She thought that he understood her feelings on the matter. It didn’t seem like he did at all. Either that or he just went against her wishes to keep hurting her. Couldn’t he talk to her about it first? No, he would just nonchalantly mention sleeping around on her after the fact like it was nothing more than a few scattered leaves on the porch.

Her heart was breaking. How could he? So callus, so cold, treating her like her heart or their bond didn’t mean a thing.

Like she was stupid.

That was what really got her. Even though it sounded cliché in her own mind, she was no stranger to heartache. She had a constant reel of Bonnie Raitt songs playing in her mind, and she had the wall around her heart for comfort. “Maybe that is why he’s going outside the marriage…”, her mind chided her. No. She wouldn’t listen. She was not going to let him get off that easy making herself the easy target for self-doubt.

But she did not want to feel like she had been taken for granted. She was not stupid. That thought made her blood boil.

She could deal with anger better than heartache any day. Anger was familiar. Anger was a constant companion for a long time.

Almost at work, Toni Braxton’s How Could an Angel Break My Heart came through the speakers of her car radio. An angel? Please. She refused to let another man break her heart.

She would get even. She didn’t know how as revenge wasn’t a strong suit of hers. And she didn’t know how far she should push this. The man was her husband after all. She would have to live with her consequences, even if he refused to acknowledge his.

She thought of her oldest friend CC. His face floated up through her tortured mind like a life raft and she grabbed on. With the memories of his face and gentle nature for company she pulled into the parking lot at work and began going through the morning routines of getting the office ready for a busy day.

The day was a scorcher as most summer days in Texas can be but the office was buzzing with activity and she didn’t have much time to ponder the newest bruises to her heart and deflated ego. She kept busy and was only reminded of her life outside the office doors when her husband would call or page her after he woke up. She dismissed each call and each page with the truthful, “I can’t talk now, I’m busy.”

Putting him off did not make her feel any better and she knew that she was going to have to deal with him when she got home from work. It was Friday and he had a few days off. Days to… she didn’t want to think about it.

She decided to make some plans of her own.

CC answered on the second ring and hearing his voice, she immediately started crying. She felt like a fool for crying, she had never been the girly crying type… not that anyone on the outside knew about anyways, but CC had been a friend since the 7th grade. He knew almost everything about her. He could read her so well, so there was no need to hide her feelings from him.

CC said the words she needed to hear. The conversation lasted all of 30 seconds.

Her: CC? (starts crying)
CC: Hi sweetheart, are you ok?
Her: ::sniffle sniffle:: N-n-n-nooo (still with the crying and apparently… the stuttering)
CC: Come to Baton Rouge.
Her: Now?
CC: Yes, now.
Her: I get off at 4 o’clock, I have to go home and pack then I’ll be on my way.
CC: I’ll be waiting for you. And it’s going to be ok baby.

He didn’t ask for or demand any explanations. He just asked her if she was ok. She knew CC would take care of her, and to be in his presence would be a balm to her battered heart and ego. The choice to go was instantaneous as soon as he said, “Come to Baton Rouge” she knew she would go.

The only question in her mind would be if she would tell her husband.

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To understand this dear reward (above) at all, you must hie thee on and read gatsby’s grape ape entry and my comments.

And because of said comments he sent me my very own dream turtle in an email titled wee gift with these words attached, “my purple monkey is booked solid so i ordered you a tangerine turtle. hope he proves helpful.”

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