Well, life turns on a dime. I have left Spokane and Edward and Mom and the winery, and I am on a new journey.
Mom and I had traveled to Woodinville for the cheese classes. I was excited that we had grown to two classes, and life was good. Not without its challenges, but good. I was dedicated to the dream of PCC and Edward.
The first night I was gone, Edward got wasted. He didn’t call me. It was late when I finally got ahold of him, and he was trashed. Incoherent. I thought, at least he is safe, and I just dealt with it.
On the second night, cheese class ended after 9p, but Spokane is open until 9p anyway. At 9:30 I texted Edward that we were done and please call me when he could. He texted back that they were wrapping up also, and he would call soon.
He didn’t get home until nearly 1a. I blew a gasket.
[Side note: I waited a couple of hours after his text, and Edward did not call me. I started calling him repeatedly. He finally answered. He was drunk again, and we fought. And we hung up on each other. And I called back repeatedly. And we fought some more. Then he texted a photo of the speedometer of my mom’s car, buried over 100 mph.
I’ve never recorded this piece of the story before. I kept it out of my first book. I even kept it out of my private journal. I didn’t want anyone to know.
I share this now because it is an important part of our story, not because I want to hurt him or dishonor him in any way. I became convinced that life could not go on as we were living it. The stakes were too high. Someone was going to pay the ultimate price for our choices, unless someone did something radical to stop us. That someone had to be me.]
Something in me broke loose, and wave after wave of anger and despondency rocked me. I let it all come, and I let it all go. I felt like a part of me died, like when I ended up in the mental ward in Texas. I just snapped, and I decided I was done.
Now I am two hours north of Spokane in the Colville National Forest, a free camp site, alone (with Justice). I have broken every tie, and I have come to clear my head. I can choose to return, or I can choose to forge ahead, and I don’t know which way I will go.