Seven Years of Bad Luck (4 page)

Geez Kat! You must have really been a screw up in a past life
. I chuckled out loud at that thought and drove away from the home I had made with Aidan—feeling very liberated.

Stressful months had passed and my split from Aidan went ahead full steam, I kept thinking about my less than good fortune in the love department. I came to the conclusion that my crap marriage was likely my own doing. They say if you break a mirror, you will have seven years of bad luck. I don’t think I had ever broken an actual mirror, but I definitely peered into a metaphorical mirror and saw myself reflected in true form. I was strong, willful, unbridled. I allowed the person whom I knew as me to be broken, shattered, and forgotten. My heart and soul had been beaten into submission by circumstance and blinding lust. The person whom I saw reflected after that was a distorted, lackluster impostor. My conclusion was that I deserved my bad luck for sacrificing myself.

Way to go Kat.

May, 11th, 2013. Day 214 since the dirty sock disaster. I sat down on the living room floor of my new place and allowed my exhausted muscles a moment of rest despite the fact that I really didn’t have time for rest. I was in a bit of a rush to get settled. I had job interviews lined up, and Cheyenne would be arriving the following day. Seven months had passed since I marched out of the home that I shared with Aidan. Seven months that brought with them major changes to my life. Less than a month after kicking Aidan to curb, I turned twenty-six. I found it extremely comical that I managed to ruin my own birthday by deciding to dive head-first into a nasty split with Aidan only weeks before my birthday. It was all very fitting, though. Every birthday that I celebrated with him at my side was miserable for one reason or another.

In all my eighteen-year-old wisdom, I had accepted his proposal, much to my parent’s disbelief. I was their golden child, though they would never admit to it. I don’t think my three older brothers would appreciate the favoritism. I was the youngest of the four children, and I was the only girl. It was a true perk. Being the only girl
and
the baby of the family allowed for a bounty of rule bending. My three older brothers made sure to compensate for that. I was tortured, teased, nagged, coerced, blackmailed, and pushed around on a daily basis. However, having three older brothers did have an upside. If anyone in the neighborhood dared to mess with me, I had my own troop of bodyguards who didn’t mind in the slightest scuffing up any other kid on our block. I later realized how ridiculous it was that my brothers could taunt me endlessly, reducing me to seething angry tears, but they were damned if anyone else tried to take pleasure in this favorite pastime of theirs. I would later be very glad for the childhood that thickened my skin. My ability to be tough when I need to be is part of the reason I am not dead.

Birthdays nineteen through twenty-six were all complete shit! My nineteenth birthday, my first as Aidan’s wife, was spent alone, since he was away on business. I sat alone to blow out a singular candle on a store-bought cupcake in our scarcely furnished apartment in Chicago, Illinois. I had been married all of four months at that point and was a southern girl living in a big city miles and miles from home. I found myself missing Texas and the Gulf coast where I was raised.

My childhood home had overlooked the bay and allowed for a breathtaking view of the water. I longed for the salty gulf breeze from the water. Every evening when the sun was low in the sky painting the horizon with vibrant hues of purple, pink, yellow, and orange, the sea breeze would pick up. It came from nowhere and was a steady wind that easily kept the hair swept from your neck. It was strong and gentle, cool and warm all at once. In Chicago I was way out of my comfort zone. I was young and alone in a new place with not a single friend to call my own. I didn’t even bother singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to myself that year. I had thought about it for a fraction of a second but instantly felt more depressed at the thought. I settled for a mumbled, “Happy birthday, Kat. Make a wish.” I licked the icing off the cupcake, ate half of it, threw the rest in the garbage, showered and went to bed, alone and homesick. That night I had vivid dreams of saltwater and painted skies.

My twentieth birthday was not much different, except for the fact that Aidan and I were at a very bad place in our marriage. He was distant and cold. I overheard him on the phone talking to his mother one day just two weeks before my birthday. I was not sure what the conversation was about until I heard the fateful words that bit at my heart like a wild animal feasting on its prey. He paced the back patio of our townhome, and as I went to open the door to find him, I heard the words. “Mom, I’m just not sure I even love her anymore.” My guts had twisted with disgust. My heart’s steady pace turned it into an erratic thud, one which reminded me of a pinball machine. My ears had filled with a ringing noise, and the room spun. I never knew words could screw a person up so much. I backed away from the door as if it were moments away from attacking me.

A week passed, and by then, the tension between us was like a third entity living in our home. He finally gained the nerve to inform me that he wanted “a break.” I was heartbroken when I called my mom to tell her what was going on. Within an hour of the phone call, I was informed that my oldest brother, Dalton, and my father were flying out to retrieve me.

The very next morning, my dad’s and Dalton’s rental car pulled into the drive. I greeted them at the front door. My father pushed past me and disappeared into the house. He came back out a moment later with my things in hand. He tossed my things in the trunk, and we were off to the airport, booked for a southbound flight to Texas. My twentieth birthday came and went during my time in Texas. I was with family, but depressed nonetheless. I didn’t understand why Aidan had shoved me out of our home. My mom was the one who started digging. She gained access to our cell phone account and printed three month’s worth of bills including call logs. It was she who called me to the dining table and slid a highlighter-riddled stack of papers in my direction. After seeing the evidence of Aidan’s deception, my depression got worse. I confronted him about it, and that’s when I discovered he had been having an affair with a woman I knew and had even invited into my home. After only four weeks in Texas, Aidan convinced me that he was sorry, and he needed me home. I gave in to his request and flew home.

Stupid girl.

My twenty-first birthday had been shit too. We were living in Denver, Colorado by that time. Aidan had taken a job offer that was a huge step up from his position in Chicago. I had only just met Cheyenne, and we had yet to develop a close friendship. I was once again alone in a new place in a new city with no friends or family. Aidan’s betrayals had been taking a toll over the two and a half years we had been together. Looking back, I recognized that the real me had already begun slipping away by then. I had decided to keep my family in the dark about my marriage. If I had let on how many times he was fooling around behind my back and how hurt I was, my family would all go postal and demand that I leave him. They certainly would have been disgusted at the knowledge of how I was beginning to lose myself.

Simply put, I chose Aidan over myself. I let Kathleen slip into the dark recesses of my life. I was buried alive in lies and lust with no lifeline in sight. Aidan went on a business trip the day before my twenty-first birthday. He had been gone for four days. My parents offered to fly out for my big day, but I told them not to. I was in no shape for a masquerade. I once again blew out a single candle on a store-bought cupcake. “Happy birthday, Kathleen. Make a wish.”

Icing. Half of the cupcake. Garbage. Shower. Bed. Cry. In that order. I no longer dreamed of home. In fact I had stopped dreaming during sleep altogether. I thought it peculiar, but didn’t dwell on it.

My twenty-second birthday was sad. Aidan was not on a business trip this time, but my birthday was terrible for entirely different reasons. Over the year between my twenty-first and twenty-second birthday, the Kathleen that I knew myself to be my entire life slid into an abyss. She was gone. I didn’t recognize it fully at the time, likely because the thought of the whole tragic scenario was too much to take. Ignorance is bliss more often than not, and I clung to my ignorance like a life raft on turbulent seas.

Aidan’s behavior continued, of course. I had school as a distraction from my depressing private life, but I knew I would not be a student forever. Graduation was looming, and I would be done with my bachelor’s degree and applying to law school.

I embraced a fake version of myself that was much more suited to the pathetic life I led. I completed college and earned my degree. I scored well on the LSAT and applied to law school. I was accepted, but lacked the ambition to continue. I gave up my dream of becoming a lawyer. So I became a lesser version of what I wished to be: a paralegal. Being a paralegal allowed me to go to work in the field I loved. However, my unfulfilling life was always the first and last thought I had upon waking every morning and before sleeping each night. I was consumed with sadness that I kept secret. Five days before my twenty-second birthday, we received a phone call that informed us that Aidan’s younger sister had been involved in a car accident and had died at the scene. We immediately flew out to be with his family. She was laid to rest on my birthday. The entire thing reminded me painfully of my own internal death. She had been put into the ground, and subconsciously I think I laid the true Kathleen to rest that day as well. I didn’t even bother to wish myself a happy birthday.

If there is something that Aidan and I have always done well— regardless of circumstances or the condition of our marriage—it was intimacy. We had always been very attracted to each other and enjoyed each other in the bedroom. The only bit of me that always remained was my libido and attraction to him. I knew he used this against me, but I honestly didn’t care. I had nothing else. I was hollow and miserable in nearly every aspect of my life. I might as well indulge in the one thing I did enjoy. The August after Aidan’s sister passed away I became deathly ill with walking pneumonia. I felt awful and was sick for a solid month. It wasn’t until October that I discovered that I had become pregnant. Apparently antibiotics and birth control pills don’t mix. I told Aidan over the phone while he was away, yet again. He seemed excited, and I had this sinking feeling of anxiety and panic that this life inside me would be a permanent ball and chain tying me to Aidan. I immediately felt guilty for feeling that way about this little life growing within me. It wasn’t my child’s fault that I chose to be with a man who shared himself with any female who would have him. I resented Aidan for being the catalyst to these dreadful thoughts. When I told Cheyenne about the pregnancy, she, too, was nervous for me. She put on a good show of being congratulatory and happy, but I could tell she had the same thoughts as I did.

My twenty-third birthday is one I will never forget. I had been seven weeks pregnant and had warmed up considerably to the idea of being a mom. I think I may have even gotten a bit excited. Aidan was away on business, but had decided to come home early from the trip to surprise me. I had actually thought that maybe the birthday curse was over. This birthday felt like it might actually be okay. I was stupid to let my guard down and to be excited about anything that could be stripped from me in one fell swoop.

Aidan’s intentions of making my twenty-third birthday a special one were good. Little did he know that his actions didn’t make my day special—- they made it a painful memory that I would never forget. He came home a day early and had plans to take me to dinner for my birthday. He greeted me as usual and informed me he had a great surprise for me the following day. After a brief discussion about his business trip, he went off to the master suite to shower. While Aidan was in the bathroom, I heard his cell phone ringing from its spot on the kitchen counter. Normally I wouldn’t bother with his phone, but he had told me he was expecting a call from his mom and that if she called, to answer it. I scurried to the kitchen and grabbed his cell without even glancing at the ID. I answered it. That’s when I heard a woman on the other end of the line, a woman who was definitely not my mother-in-law. I didn’t even have to ask her name because she made a point to be quick about informing me of who the hell she was. Her name was Caroline, and I could practically hear her smug face contort into an evil smile. She went on to inform me that she had been having an affair with my husband for two months, and she intended to make it a much more ‘permanent’ arrangement, so I should simply bow out gracefully seeing how my marriage was already crap.