Sweet Escape

Chapter One

Plane journeys had never been an easy ride for me; pun intended. I think, if i'd have experienced a plane journey as a child—broke the ice, I guess—it wouldn't be as difficult as it was now. Growing up with parents who were far too busy yelling at each other, or drinking, or doing god knows what to even remember to pick me up from school in the afternoon meant that a happy jolly family holiday was far from reach. My first plane journey was only a couple years back, as an adult; a far more wary, paranoid, pessimistic adult with a lot more knowledge on the known catastrophes that've taken place on plane journeys. I can remember it almost like it was yesterday. I remember nearing a panic attack as I sat on the plane; overwhelmed simply by the premise of being raised in the air by lord knows how many feet. That, and the fact that the plane was tight and cramped, and how the isle you had to somehow shimmy your way through to find your allocated seat was so narrow that you were almost touching shoulders with the stranger in the next row to you. It was a claustrophobic pessimist's worst nightmare, and so, in rough translation; it was my worst nightmare. Sam had only invested in the holiday because i'd told him the kids deserved a treat; something to make up for the awfully toxic environment they were living in with the two of us at each other's throats all the time.

Disneyland Paris, it was. He'd trailed behind hard-faced and miserable as I walked ahead in front of him; both boys clinging on to each of my hands. And as we walked, we passed other families; fathers who hoisted their little kids up onto their shoulders so they could get a good look at Mickey and Minnie Mouse. Sam truly couldn't be any more out of place. He didn't seem to experience the joy I felt when Dylan ran up to hug Woody from Toy Story like it's all he'd ever wanted to do, or mirror my horror when little Norman got far too excited and tripped and scraped his knee. Sam wasn't the kind of guy you would imagine yourself raising children with. He wasn't the kind of guy who you'd sit and watch playing with your children and feel a rush of contentment wash over you in that moment because you realise that your family is truly perfect. He wasn't the kind of guy romantic enough to set the two of you up the occasional 'date nights' as a small break from the often hassling day-job that was being a parent. Sam was the guy who would only agree to take your kids to the magical kingdom of Disneyland because he should; because that's what all the other fathers did, because he wanted to be seen as the good guy. What he wanted was to build up such a clean, innocent image of the two of us that i'd have neighbours or family friends or even mere strangers come up to me in the grocery store and say 'You are so lucky to have a guy like Sam as a husband' or 'You have a beautiful family'. In those moments I could never manage to feel any anger or amusement over the fact that those statements were far from true, because somehow, somewhere deep down; I was proud. Real or not, we gave off the image i'd always wanted when I pictured having a family of my own, and that was enough. It was when I began to realise that it shouldn't be enough that things became complicated. After each piercing yell, each sexist comment and constant demand and slap he threw at me; the message had slowly began to sink in that this just wasn't what life was supposed to be like. I wasn't supposed to just sit and make do because hey, at least other people thought we were a nice family. I was supposed to be a good mother to my children. To protect them, keep them out of harms way. I was supposed to be in the right mind-set to realise that this was not a safe environment for them, nor me, and to be strong and wise enough to make a move and do something about it. But I just wasn't. Not yet.

If you watch, well—almost every trashy romantic comedy movie ever—where does the female protagonist jet off to figure herself out? Well the city that never sleeps, of course. New York City. I hadn't been before; always wanted to, never got the opportunity to. With Norman and Dylan going to summer camp (which was still eating away at my brain, but they were teenagers now and I had to let them grow up someday) and Sam going away for work, I had the chance to do something for myself for once. At first, it felt almost wrong. Like how a goody-two-shoes nerd at school would feel if they were planning to skip a class for the first time. I felt like a rule breaker; like I was going against my true purpose in life and going in a completely different direction. If anything, the rush that came with that feeling is the main part of what had me stepping on that plane without a second thought about what might happen if I did.