Stages of Grace - By Carey Heywood Page 0,1

was my boyfriend I groaned and rolled my eyes telling him it was a blind date. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and said I was not the kind of girl who should be going on blind dates.

I had asked him what he meant by that, and he moved over to the chair right behind me and told me blind dates were for girls who didn’t get asked out face to face. Jon was charming and talked me into leaving my date that night for him. When my date came back Jon told him that we were old friends from high school and asked if it would be okay if I hung out with him to catch up instead. My date seemed relieved, and when he left there was no talk of another date. Jon left his friends, and we sat at a small table by the bar. I could still picture us. My hair had been longer then.

I cut it not long ago, excited to try something different. He flipped. I had never seen anything like it. Full-blown anger, over hair. When I started crying, Jon apologized, pulling me into his arms. Moments before, I had felt so beautiful with my stylish new haircut just shy of shoulder-length, I had been so excited for Jon to see it. I was growing it back out now. It was taking a long time, but it was now past my shoulders.

My eyes flick back to the bedroom door, and I exhale when I see the light is turned off. He's gone to sleep. If I am lucky I can slip into bed without waking him and be gone to work before he woke the next morning.

Tomorrow is Friday. Most people who work during the week will be thrilled and greeting each other with “Happy Friday.” It is my least favorite day at work because it means I will be home Saturday and Sunday. I used to live for the weekends, for curling up with a good book or taking a day trip somewhere fun. Nowadays, weekends seem like staring contests until Jon finds some reason to scream at me. It doesn’t even matter if I am playing his game or not.

It wasn’t like this the first month Jon was out of work. He had still been actively applying for jobs and doing extra chores around our apartment since he was home during the day. Jon would cook elaborate dinners and go buy flowers for me. He would meet me at the door with a kiss and ask me how my day had been.

Now, he had barely talked to me in months. After that first month, his severance package ran out. Still undeterred, he continued applying to places with the hope of some response. He managed to get called back three times that month for interviews. Each time, he heard nothing afterward. With my job I was barely able to cover our apartment and my car payment. Jon filed for unemployment when it became clear that without it his car was going to be repossessed. He was on unemployment for six months until his claim ran out. Ever since then, Jon had become more hostile and withdrawn.

I learned the hard way that certain questions would set him off. Had he applied anywhere? Had he heard back from anyplace? How was his day? These were some examples of potential minefields. I slowly stopped initiating conversations to avoid setting him off. It seemed as though even hello wasn’t safe anymore. When his car was repossessed last month, it had been especially hard. Jon was so angry, and the only one he had around was me. Three months into his unemployment, he had stopped talking to any of his friends. I was the last thing he had any sort of control over.

I ate a sandwich and set my plate in the sink to wash the next morning before going into the bathroom to wash my face. There was less makeup to wash off these days. Jon had accused me of “painting my face to try and find a new man.” Since then, I had just about stopped wearing any. I was thankful I wore scrubs to work as Jon could not find any fault with those. Every day, scrubs, insulated Crocs, blonde hair up in a tight bun, and almost no makeup. One time, washing my hands in the bathroom at work, I had looked up myself. It seemed as