Two Steps Behind

Part 1

 You know what the definition of failure is? It's being thirty, separated from your husband of only a few years, unemployed, and moving back in with your mom. Elizabeth let out a deep sigh as she turned onto the street where her childhood home sat. If someone had told her five years ago, when she was happily planning her wedding, envisioning an amazing future filled with love and happiness and children and forever, that a mere five years later, it would implode in front of her, she would have laughed. How could anything that seemed so amazing, seemed like the best thing that could have happened to her, have turned out so badly? She never would have guessed that when she said yes or when she was walking down the aisle, facing the man she thought was her happily ever after.

She had thought her and David would be together forever, the whole until death do you part. He had seemed perfect when they were dating, so attentive and concerned about her, but how wrong she had been. She had quickly found out that he wasn't who she thought he was, but she had tried to stick it out. She had made vows, and she thought she could fix it if she just tried harder to keep him happy, make him the man she thought he was when they first met. Nothing worked, and eventually she had to escape the marriage before she lost herself completely to the trauma and devastation their relationship had become.

Now, she had left her home, her job, and all of her friends to come home to Hawkins, Indiana. Her mom had been surprised, but supportive, immediately offering that she could have her old room and live with her until she got back on her feet. She was grateful for her mom, but that didn't stop her from feeling like a complete loser. Who had to depend on their mom for financial stability at her age?

She pulled into the drive and stepped out of her car, gazing at the one story ranch she had called home for twenty-two years. She went around the back of her Camry to grab her bags. She had barely taken anything when she left, just some clothes and toiletries. All she could think about was getting away from that house as fast as she could. She'd left so much behind in her hurry, only grabbing the bare essentials. There were a handful of things she'd wished she'd grabbed but getting out, getting as far away from him as was possible, had been the only thing driving her as she hurriedly threw things in a bag.

The front door flung open and her mom, Debi, came rushing out, a huge smile brightening up her whole face. Her mom had been young when she had Elizabeth. She had only been sixteen and people often mistook them for sisters instead of mother and daughter. It had bothered her a lot when she was younger, especially when boys would make inappropriate comments about her mom, but now, it didn't matter.

She loved how close they had been. As she had gotten older, their relationship had evolved into one of best friends who could spend hours chatting about anything and everything. Her mom always listened to her boy problems and her friend drama. She would sit with Elizabeth for hours as she lamented about all of the good and the bad of high school life. And then she had listened to the same later in life, when it became college woes. It hadn't been like that for a while as she hadn't felt comfortable talking to her mom about all of the bad things about her marriage. She didn't know how to admit to her mom that she had been a complete idiot, that she had been hoodwinked by the guy she loved. Elizabeth was looking forward to trying to find that with her mom again because she desperately missed their closeness.

"Oh, it's my baby girl!" her mom shrieked, running down the steps and wrapping her in a tight hug. It felt like she was going to crush her ribcage under the force of her embrace.

"Mom...I can't breathe," Elizabeth laughed.

"Oh, sorry," she said, releasing her. She reached up, holding Elizabeth's face in her hands. "I have just missed you so much. It's so good to see this face again and to have you home." Debi paused, tilting her head sadly. "But you look so tired, honey."