Ok. Given the situation, maybe I shouldn’t be moping around because I’m missing my usual dinner with the gang. After all, there are more important things than laughter, gossip, and drinks (not too many, but there are some). And, when my best friend from high school, I felt an obligation to her, for old times sake. I mean, I hadn’t talked to her in a couple of years, and then, only in passing. But, when we were younger, we were inseparable, practically family. She may as well have been blood. So, when I got the call, at 1:30 in the afternoon (smack dab in the middle of All My Children!), and I heard her voice on the other end of the telephone, my stomach lurched, like I was at the top of the country’s best rollercoaster, about to plummet down and speed out of control.

“Hey,” she began, her voice shaky and unsure, “you got a minute?”

“Uh, yeah. This is a surprise. What’s up?” After all this time, it was as if I had just gotten out of cheerleader practice and she was calling to re-hash the events of the day, as always.

“I know it’s been a while, and I haven’t been the friend to you that I used to be, but you know how life can get away from you sometimes. But, I really need your help. I don’t know who else to call.” She burst into tears, and I knew it was serious.

“Tracy, what’s going on?” Tracy was never an emotional person, so I knew it was bad.

“I don’t have time to get into it over the phone, but can you come over and pick me up? I know this is sudden, and a lot to ask, but I really need your help.”

“Ok. Yeah. Are you guys still at the same place?” I looked at my TV longingly, as Erica Kane made her signature dramatic exit. I was not looking forward to making my own exit, but it was important, so what could I do?

I drove down Tracy’s picture perfect lane, where all the houses looked as if they were happily cooling fresh baked apple pies on their windowsills. All of their gardens were perfectly attended to, and all their lawns were neatly manicured. Anyone from HGTV would be proud. But when I pulled into Tracy’s driveway, things weren’t nearly as picture perfect. Her front door was ajar, so I parked my car and, announcing myself, went inside.

Her living room was terribly disheveled, magazines and books all over the floor, dishes broken, lamps overturned. Then I saw the blood smeared on the couch and carpet. There were even bloody handprints on a lampshade and wall. Panic set in.

“Tracy?! Tracy, it’s me? Where are you? Tracy?!” I reached into my bag for a nail file, the only weapon I could think of. It was flimsy, but it was sharp and, aimed right, would do some damage.

“Here I am.” She walked down the stairs, carrying a suitcase, her face covered in the shadows. When she was in the light, I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Her face and neck were bruised and her right eye was swollen shut. Her nose and mouth were so smeared with blood, I couldn’t tell if her lips were busted or her nose was broken (we would later learn that her nose was broken, and that she needed a few stitches in her lower lip).

“It’s not as bad as it looks, really. You know how overly dramatic I tend to make things.” She attempted to make a joke, but I just stared at her, in shock and horror. “I didn’t know who else to call, where he wouldn’t think to look for me.” I would later find out that Tracy had been purposely distancing herself from me so that, if she ever needed to leave, she could come to me, and her husband wouldn’t think to look at my house, since our friendship had seemingly fizzled.

“We need to go now, before he gets back.” She was trying to be calm, but I was starting to hear her voice become frantic. Then I heard something else.

“Kinsey’s here?” Kinsey was her 3 year old daughter. “Did he hurt her?”

“No, he never hits her, and he usually doesn’t hit me while she’s here or awake, but I made him so mad today…”

“Don’t give me that bull about you making him mad. This is inexcusable! How long has this been going on?”

“We can talk about all that once we’re gone. He’ll be back in a little while, and I want to be long gone when he gets here.” That makes two of us! “I’ve never left before, so he’s gonna be really pissed when he gets here and sees that this mess hasn’t been cleaned up, and I don’t have dinner started. If you put this in the car, I’ll get Kinsey and her things. Are you sure it’s ok that we come with you? I know toddlers aren’t really your thing,”

“It’s fine. What are friends for?”

That was two weeks ago. And yes, it was getting a little crowded at my place, but when I think of the alternative… Suddenly, the extra crap all over my home doesn’t seem so bad. Especially after Tracy told me what had finally motivated her to get out. It turns out that after her husband had left her in a heap on the hall floor, Kinsey, who was awakened by the all the beating and cursing, decided to climb down off her bed and investigate the racket. When she saw her mother’s bloody face, Kinsey said, “Mommy, you got a boo-boo. You want me to kiss for you?” The simplicity of that statement made Tracy see that she didn’t want her daughter growing up thinking that what was happening was ok. Tracy realized that, if not for herself, she had to get out so her baby girl wouldn’t think it was ever ok for a man to hit her.

Tracy’s husband had gone to all the places he thought she’d go: her parents’ home, close friends (like her new BFF that was her maid of honor, while I was just a bride’s maid- but I’m not bitter!), hotels, even the women’s shelter. Her mom told us he was checking all over.

But he didn’t check at my place.

I know it will take a while for things to get worked out. Tracy has spoken with an attorney, and is going to take the proper steps to get out of her husband’s grasp. She knows that it will take time before the ties are severed, and is fearful that he will come after her, no matter what. Luckily, she has finally realized that she needed to get out of the relationship while it was still an option. The road ahead will be long and hard, but Tracy has the support that is going to help her get there. And, more importantly, she has her daughter to think of.

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Kit Sheppard is a 30yo hayseed from Snow Hill, NC, who enjoys writing and baking, and is a beginning knitter(but can only make scarves), and has been descibed by many as 'the one who got away' (particularly by law enforcement!).