My husband was stationed at a base in Washington State while I was still living in California. He’d barely spoken to me in months and did not find out that I had lost our baby until two weeks after it happened. He was big into punishment and the silent treatment was his favorite tactic, as it was the one that most devastated me. He beat me to the punch, and aside from some initial tears-I was relieved not to have been the first one to say it-I composed myself and asked him if he wanted to hang out until my flight home in a few days. He said yes and offered to take me to downtown Seattle. I had been dying to see the city since I was a little girl so his offer surprised and touched me. I was excited! Perhaps this divorce would be amicable. I grabbed my purse and jumped out of his moving car so he’d have no choice but to let me go. I ran for dear life, flagged down a cab, raced back to his apartment-it would never be ours-and took off in my rental car. I left everything behind and I felt free.
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