Nest

I had left my husband on Saturday, and on the Sunday he'd so gone to church in order to tell everyone what I'd done, ensuring control over the narrative. I on the other hand, had no desire to see anyone, as I barricaded myself inside my sister's apartment.

It was no surprise that I'd had a voicemail later that day from one of the leaders of the church, asking if we could meet. I quickly deleted it. "They just want to make sure you guys are okay," my dad said, "so make sure you don't leave it too long before you contact them." I was skeptical that they'd be as understanding as my Dad was, but a few weeks later I made the arrangements to meet two leaders at the back of the church in one of their private meeting rooms anyway. I greeted both of them and then sat down, my eyes darting to an unmarked manila envelope on the corner of the table, next to their bibles. Their first question had been a predictable one. "Your husband told us what happened, but we'd like to hear your side."

I wish I could have been 100% honest, but I knew stories like mine were only valid in the outside world. So, I answered vaguely, telling them I didn't hate my husband, but that I didn't think we should stay together because we weren't compatible. I knew that word wasn't going to garner me sympathy anymore than using the word abuse, because there were a multitude of unhappy, abused and incompatible couples in the religion who stayed anyway. However, I wasn't going to be one of them, no matter what these leaders thought. They could encourage us to study the bible more and to pray to more, which was was the answer for everything, but quite frankly I didn't like God anymore than I liked my husband.

I waited for their reactions, for them to tell me I was I was a bad person, but all they did was ask me more questions, like whether my husband and I had been having sex regularly. I squirmed in my chair, knowing they'd just crossed a line as I shook my head, refusing to elaborate. Once they were done their questioning, they prayed over me, and then handed me the envelope. "Here, we picked out some religious articles for you to read when you have time, "one of them said. "Oh, and before you leave, you should know that we'll be meeting with your husband tomorrow to get his side, and then we'll be meeting with you again." I said goodbye and walked to my car, unable to shake off the uneasy feeling.

When I got back to my sister's she asked if it had gone well, to which I answered, "yes." But had it? I couldn't read the leaders, and that made me nervous. Was it all going to be this easy, or was it just the calm before the storm? Like they said, they were now matching my story to my husband's, and then I was getting a second meeting, and who knew how many after that. It was now dependent on my husband's accusations, which, because he was a man and considered the head of our household, held much more weight than mine. If he wanted to, he could have me disciplined, even thrown out of the church with his convoluted stories. We were rarely on the same page anyway, with his take on reality completely different than mine. But, I couldn't worry about that right now, I had so much many more things to worry about, such as the selling of our house, where I'd eventually live, how I'd support myself on just one income, and what church I'd attend within the city, when I finally decided to show my face.

The next day, Dad stopped by to see me. And as I moved my blanket and pillow off the couch so he could sit down, I realized just how haggard I was starting to look. I knew this wasn't an ideal situation, but I had no other choice, as financially I couldn't afford a down payment on a rental, when I was still paying half the mortgage and bills on the house my husband and I bought, in spite of me not living there anymore. "I have a proposition," Dad said, giving me a smile. "I want to give you the money so you can get your own place."

Ahh, my own place. It had been a dream for the last eight years, and now here was my father trying to make it a reality. "That's a lot of money, I don't feel right taking it."

He interrupted before I could say more. "Please, let me do this for you. You can't keep sleeping on a couch each night, it's not good for you. I really think you need your own home. "

Home. I pictured the sun shining in the window, as I curled up on the couch with a book, sitting on my patio with a glass of wine as the sun slowly set, and going to bed at night and not having to worry about being touched by a man I didn't love. There was nothing I wanted more. "Okay, I will take the money, but I want to pay you back, " I said, giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for everything."

It was strange to think that of all the people, it was my father who'd become my rescuer in this situation. According to the religion, marriage was forever. According to my dad, it was until his daughter said she'd rather die." He hadn't tried to stuff me back in the cage as so many fathers would have, but instead he was letting me fly away so I could build a new nest. For the first time in my life, I was going to be alone, and as much as there was comfort in that thought, there was also fear.