Off the Clock

Last workout of the week, enough groceries that I don’t have to leave the unit to go grocery shopping, I am off the clock until Monday.

I don’t even know if I’ll go walking tomorrow, Saturday. Depends on whether the walking bug hits me when I awaken tomorrow.

Trainer is a young man with an old soul. Consequently, we have deep philosophical talks. He shares things with me he can’t share with his younger clients — has to maintain that invincible tough guy image with them. As for me, he knows things about me that my own family doesn’t know ... so do you, my readers.

Trainer and I laugh a lot, kid around a lot and, one day this week, he and I even turned the session into a quasi Zumba class.

At any rate, he and I have been following and discussing the Gabby Petito/Brian Laundrie case.

All along, Trainer said Brian would be found deceased by his own hands. My theory was Brian had escaped to another country.

Having myself escaped from an abusive situation, one thing I discussed with Trainer is that I didn’t understand why, when the cops originally arrived on the scene after receiving reports of Brian slapping Gabby, and separated the two — sending Brian to spend a night in a hotel to cool down, while Gabby spent that night in the van, was why she didn’t just drive away. Leave his arse behind.

"Love" said Trainer.

Perhaps he’s right. She just wasn’t ready to give up on him.

Too bad she didn’t get another opportunity to save herself.

For new readers who don’t know my history, I was Gabby once — young, stupid in love, not giving up on the relationship with my ex-husband in spite of being verbally and physically abused, my every movement controlled.

Fortunately for me, the day came when the abuse caused me to fall completely out of love. All that was left was contempt and fear.

Yet and still I gave him a chance. Told him he needed to get some help, that I’d give him six months to get that help or I was gone.

I didn’t know then, what I know now … that when these abusers lose control is the most dangerous time for a woman.

His response to the ultimatum was to go postal. He kept me and the new-born twins locked in the apartment with him. I slept on the couch in the living room, so I could be near the door to escape, while he slept in the bedroom.

Another thing I learned is these abusers can read your mind. He figured I was planning to sneak away while he slept, so he kept one of the twins with him at night, knowing I’d not leave without both my babies.

When he began drinking, trying to work himself up to killing me to stop me from leaving, I managed to trick him into believing I still loved him and wanted to give it another try. When he felt he was back in control, and could leave the apartment for the ten minutes it took to drive a few blocks to the cleaners, pick up his cop uniform, so he could return to work, as soon as I heard his car exit the driveway, I grabbed my six-month old twins and fled with the clothes we had on our backs.

That was my moment, and had I hesitated to take it, as Gabby hesitated to drive away, I’d have been her.

At any rate, now that Brian’s bones have been found and identified, I told Trainer that I actually felt sorry for Brian. Sorry because he thinks taking himself out of this life frees him from experiencing the consequences of his actions. While, in actuality, the only thing he’s succeeded in doing is establishing the direction in which his next life will go, and it won’t be pretty.

So, I am now off the clock and already not looking forward to Monday. Not just because Monday is back to the same ol same ol, but because it will be the day after Halloween and I’ll have to put the decorations away.

The decorations will go back into storage, but I’m going to keep my current vampire bloody nail art until it’s time to switch to Christmas.