It wasn't as if I didn't know what I was doing. I knew what it was, but when the entire world is upside down, people tend to go with the flow. So I let it happen.

I was only twenty years old and newly divorced. Yes, the marriage lasted a year before the roach that I married molted his shell and decided to show himself. It took five years, and I learned the hard way that everyone has two sides: the person they are, and the person they want you to think they are. I survived for almost a year when I hit the breaking point and told him to hit the road. The lesson didn't sink in as far as it should have, and it was a very short time before I found someone to fill the spot.

"I love you, baby." He said it so sweetly and so casually, I had to wonder how many other people he had said the same thing to. I quickly pushed the thought out of my mind and graced him with the sad, half-smile he was waiting for.

"Love you, too," I said, though not very convincingly. Apparently the words alone were enough to pacify him...or maybe he just didn't know me well enough to know that I didn't mean it.

I pulled the covers up under my chin and curled into a ball in a fetal position. My eyes were wide, peering into the darkness, waiting to adjust to the tiny amount of light sliding in above the curtains. I could feel Alex's arm next to mine and imagined what our arms looked like together, what we looked like together. People stared, and he loved it while I tried to ignore it. He thrived from the attention.

Why wouldn't a forty year old man want to be seen with a twenty year old? Wincing at the thought, I forced myself to push the idea far out of my head. I had much more to offer than a young body, and I had to believe that he wanted more than that from me.

I thought about my ex-husband and wondered, for the first time, what he might be doing. I imagined him drinking himself stupid and passing out on the couch, which wouldn't have been too far out of the ordinary at this point. I felt a twinge of guilt, wondering if there was anything I could have done...if there was something I should have done differently...if I should have given him more of a chance...

I closed my eyes and tried to wipe the memory of him out of my head, trying to drift into the four hours of sleep I might have time for.

Life had turned into a tightrope walk for me. I was trying to balance my job with my finances, and the balancing beam was always tipping. I struggled to break even as often as possible, but the roach left me with twelve dollars in my bank account and a stack of bills on top of a mountain of debt.

"Kim, honey, just let me pay off your student loans. I'll have a check in the account by Wednesday. That would definitely take care of a few of your bills."

I shot him a disgusted look before icily replying, "Hell no."

"But why not?" he wined.

"We've discussed this. I don't want your money. That's not why I am with you. I am managing just fine on my own. This is my mess and I'm going to get myself out of it. I don't need your help." I'd always been stubborn that way, refusing help until I was desperate, and even then not asking for any. I would wait until someone offered, and I would reluctantly accept, hating myself for it the entire time.

Besides, even though nobody dared say it to my face, I knew they thought I was with him for his money. After all, he was a very wealthy business owner who wasn't shy about spending his money and flaunting it every chance he got. But it wasn't true. I didn't want his money; and even though I didn't know why I was with him, I knew it had nothing to do with money.

"Well, can we at least move in together?" he pleaded.

"Uh...you, me, your wife, and your kids? That would go over well," I spat sarcastically.

"No, you know I have two houses. She's in one with the kids and we could stay in the other. We'll go on a shopping spree. You can redecorate the entire house any way you want." He was starting to sound desperate and I wanted to avoid the whole mess completely.

"You know it's not going to happen. I don't want to live in the same town as your wife, divorce or not. It's an hour drive for me every morning when I stay here as it is. I can't make that permanent. I don't want to live with you." I said it flatly without much emotion, hoping to get the point across.

"Come on, baby. I know you want to. I love you, and we're going to get married. We'll buy a new house later. Any one you want. But for now, I need you with me."

I was starting to soften to his arguments. I have an addiction to being needed, and I think he caught on very early in our relationship. "I don't want to be anywhere where your kids will see me. They're only three and four years younger than I am, and I sure don't look much older than they do. They haven't even met me, and they already hate me-understandably. They aren't going to accept me anytime soon as it is, and I'm not ready to face them yet."

"Don't worry about that. You won't see any of my family. It's a big enough town that you will easily avoid them. We can make this work," he encouraged.

"I can't talk about this right now. It's a huge decision. My divorce isn't even final yet, and yours is barely started. I've got a lot on my plate right now, and so do you. Let's just get through one thing at a time. Please," I begged. I was feeling overwhelmed.

He kissed my forehead and inhaled the scent of my freshly shampooed hair. "Okay, one thing at a time. I love you," he said softly.

"Love you, too," I replied.

He got out of the car and hustled around to open my door, but I beat him to it, hopping out of the car and slamming the door as quickly as I could. I knew it would irritate him, but not enough for him to say anything. He sighed slightly and offered me his arm. I took it.

I was wearing a tight, low cut shirt that accentuated my larger-than-average chest and tight, boot-cut jeans that just brushed the floor over my high heeled, open-toed shoes. I wasn't accustomed to dressing so flashy, but since Alex had come along, I had started wearing make-up and curling my hair. He even bought me jewelry that he insisted I wear regularly. I didn't really recognize myself, but that was the point. I didn't want to be the same old me anymore. I was ready for a change, and this was the first alley I came across that didn't seem too dangerous to venture down.

I had a habit of looking at the floor in front of me when I walked, often with my head down. Alex was slowly correcting that, making sure that the woman he was with always walked with her head held high. I was very insecure and uncomfortable, but I was learning to be the way he wanted me to be. He did it without saying anything by using simple gestures, like a finger under the chin or a gentle squeeze on my neck. A shell was developing around me, and I knew it was necessary if I was going to fit into his world. There were insults hurled from all directions, and I never took them well until the shell started to develop to protect me. I appeared to be growing stronger on the outside, but I knew better.

The second we stepped into the busy restaurant, the hostess saw Alex and greeted him through a crowd of people who were waiting to be seated. She directed us to a table in the quiet section of the restaurant, while the people waiting in the entry grumbled audibly. I couldn't help but sympathize with them, and figured we should have waited our turn in line like everyone else.

When the hostess had given us our menus, I quietly asked, "Why do we always have to make a scene? We should really just wait in line like everyone else."

"Only the best for my baby," Alex beamed.

"It's not fair, though. Some of those people have been waiting a long time," I insisted.

"Stop worrying. I didn't ask for special treatment. This is my favorite restaurant and they know me here. I'm just a VIP. Don't sweat it, doll."

I let him order for both of us because I knew it made him feel manly. I'm not a picky eater and I loathed making decisions, so it was just as well. After the flirty waitress took our menus, Alex slid his hands across the table to hold mine. I knew what this was. The more lovey-dovey he could be with me in public, the more of a scene we would make. The more of a scene we made, the more people would look at us and whisper to their dinner companions. The more people whispered, the more attention he got. I could have easily passed for his daughter, but he had to make it clear that our relationship was nothing of the sort.

I ate quickly, not even stopping to drink any of the wine Alex had ordered. I only made it through a third of my meal.

"How is everything tasting here?" the flighty waitress asked, refilling our water glasses.

"Perfect, like always," smiled Alex.

"Could I get a box to bring this home in, please?" I quietly asked, looking the waitress directly in the eye.

"Miss, that won't be necessary," Alex chimed in before she could even consent. "She won't finish it anyway."

The waitress gave a halfhearted smile, and started away. For a second, I hoped she at least questioned herself as to whether she should bring the box I had asked for or not. However, I knew without a doubt that Alex's forceful nature and charming smile left no question in her mind. I wouldn't be bringing my leftover food home.

"Alex, I'm tired of staying in hotels. Why can't we just go back to my apartment?" I whined.

"Because that's at least an hour drive, and I have to be up early for work tomorrow. I'm not making that drive tonight and then again tomorrow," he firmly declared.

"Yeah, but I have to make the drive every morning!" I reminded him. "I'm the one who gets up before five after sleeping for about three hours a night. And why? Refresh my memory, ‘cause I'm not so sure anymore."

"You know why. I need you. I can't sleep away from you, not even for a night. Now let's just get a room and relax," he begged, planting a few little kisses across my cheeks, and then my forehead, and finally the bridge of my nose.

"Well, maybe I should just head home. You can go back to your house and I'll go back to mine, and then nobody has to stay in a hotel," I meekly suggested.

"No. You're staying, and that's final." He was serious this time, and I knew better than to argue. He got out and went in to pay for a room while I waited in the car. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the cool glass of the passenger window, trying to see how still I could sit. It was only minutes later when he came back, smiling and holding a little card key in his hand. I still hadn't moved.

"I only got one key. I knew you wouldn't mind. You don't need one anyway. Let's just get upstairs. I can't wait much longer to run my hands over that gorgeous bod of yours."

"Alright," I sighed, grabbing my bag and following him to a side door.

We walked up the dirty, carpeted steps until we got to the third floor. My bag was heavy. I had everything that I needed for a few days, a few nights, and for work all crammed in as tight as possible. I tried to travel light, but I never knew when I would make it back to my apartment, so I had to plan for longer than I expected.

I envied Alex as I followed him up the stairs. All those muscles and just a little bag of his own to carry with a single change of clothes, a toothbrush, a comb, and some cologne. I found myself wondering when chivalry had died as my bag hit my leg with a thud on every step.

We reached the room, and Alex slid the little plastic card into the slot. When the green light flashed, I heard the tiny gears in the lock grinding; Alex turned the knob and pushed the door open. I was greeted with the musty hotel room smell that I was slowly starting to associate with home. I gave a little shiver at the thought and stuck my bag on a chair next to the tiny round table in the corner.

"See, Alex, this room has a fridge. I could have kept my leftovers until tomorrow and eaten them for breakfast," I pointed out.

"You would have forgotten about it, Kim, and you don't have time for breakfast," he stated. I knew not to bring the subject up again.

I stretched across the bed like a cat, yawning and curling my fingers against the cheap, scratchy fabric of the comforter. It was only seconds before I felt Alex straddling me, his head above mine. I couldn't have opened my eyes even if I had wanted to.

"Baby, you're so sexy." He leaned down to kiss my lips, but I didn't respond by kissing back. I kept my eyes closed, wondering-not for the first time-what I was doing in a hotel room with this man. His lips slid down my neck and I felt his warm tongue make contact with my skin. I gave an involuntary shiver, and he felt it, making him let out a satisfied moan that I could hear a smile in. He reached down and ran his hand up my leg, feeling the raised flesh of goose bumps on soft skin.

I gave in and wrapped my arms around him, hoping to get it all over with quickly, eager for a few extra hours of sleep. It wasn't the sort of love-making one reads about in romance novels. It was sex, and it didn't rock my world as much as he would have liked to think it did. Though, to be fair, I probably should have won an Emmy for the performance I gave. I was doing it so much that I must have been getting better at faking little moans and whimpers because he seemed to think he was getting better at pleasing me. It was easier to let him believe he was some sort of God than to explain that I was too uptight, uncomfortable, and exhausted to enjoy sex.

Later, when I was shivering naked under the blankets, I made a mental list of everything I needed to get done the next day. Friday. Thank God for Fridays. I was hoping to catch up on a little sleep over the weekend.

Alex flopped down on the bed next to me in nothing but his white briefs. The leg holes were stretched out, and what should have been tight wasn't tight at all. The sight of those white underwear next to his pale skin made my skin crawl, as if there were a thousand ants just under the surface of my skin and each of them was on a mission to reach the opposite end of my body. I'd never seen a guy in anything but boxers before, and I wondered at what age a man was before he considered himself to be too old for boxers. I didn't have long to think about it, though, before Alex chimed in, "I see ya lookin'. Still hot for me? Should we go another round?"

"No, no. I'm exhausted," I assured him. "I don't think I could handle any more. My legs feel a little shaky as it is. You were amazing, trust me. There's no need for a second time on my end." It was a bold-faced lie, but he would never know the difference. Besides, I figured every guy needed his ego stroked every now and then.

"That's my girl," he crooned. I tried not to cringe at his words, and just hoped he wouldn't read into the look on my face. "Why don't we do something this weekend? Just the two of us?"

"Like what?" I asked, shooting him a confused look.

"Well, what do you want to do, honey?" His voice was sugary.

"I just want to relax this weekend. I've had a long week, and I am just exhausted," I reminded him.

"We could go somewhere to relax. A mini vacation for the two of us," he suggested.

"Like what?" I was starting to think he was losing his mind. This wasn't like him at all. He never wanted to leave the area. He wanted to stay right in town where he was a big shot, and all of his friends saw us together.

"I know a little place where we will have some peace and quiet for a weekend. I'll get the plane tickets. I'll pick you up from work tomorrow on the Harley. Just be ready to go and we'll go straight to the airport." He said it as if he had already made up his mind, like there was no question in the matter.

"But-"

"Nope. We're going. When you have a long weekend, I promise I'll take you to Vegas and we can hit the strip, but for now, you need a relaxing vacation. Just let me do this for you," he said, the words sounding like a request while the tone of his voice was a demand.

All I could do was sigh before giving in to a deep yawn. When he realized that I could hardly keep my eyes open, Alex got up to shut the lights off. He climbed into bed next to me.

"Goodnight, baby," he said sweetly, leaning over to give me a little kiss.

"Goodnight," I replied sleepily.

"I love you so much," he said through a yawn.

"Love you, too."

My body was dead tired, but my mind couldn't rest. I lied awake in the dark room, staring at the light creeping in over the curtains. I didn't want to go away for a weekend, but I was bound and determined to start my new life in a positive manner. I was trying to turn myself into an optimist, always looking on the bright side of the matter. So I tried to think of all the positive aspects and began listing them in my mind. I put them on an imaginary scale in my head, adding facts to the positive side: I like to fly, getting away wouldn't be so bad, Alex was trying to do something nice for me for a change, it might be relaxing, and it was an opportunity that I never would have had before. The last thought tipped the scale, and I decided that it was going to be a positive experience even if I had to force it to be.

I fell asleep with a slight smile on my face, looking forward to the trip at the end of the next day.

It seemed like seconds later when the alarm started blaring through the dark room. I reached over to slap it off, and climbed out of bed reluctantly. I always set the alarm so that I slept until the last possible second and scrambled to get ready each morning.

I climbed into the shower, reflecting on the fact that I hadn't even dreamed in the night. It was then that I realized that I hadn't even moved a muscle all night long, and woke up in the same position I had fallen asleep in. I had to consider the fact that I wasn't even getting to REM sleep, and wonder how long it would be before it started affecting my health.

It was then that I remembered the trip that Alex had planned, my spirits brightening instantly because I had something to look forward to for a change. I found myself wondering where we would be going, what it would be like, what we would do over the weekend.

After my shower, I dried off and dressed in record time, taking extra care on my hair and makeup. By the time I left the bathroom, Alex was sitting up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Good morning, baby," he yawned.

"Good morning," I smiled back cheerily.

"You're in a better mood than usual," he commented.

"Yes, I'm excited about having you all to myself this weekend. You didn't forget, did you?" I worriedly asked.

"Of course not. I'm just going to sleep for another hour or two. After that, I'll get up and call my travel agent. He's good with these things, and he'll have things ready within an hour."

"Okay. Well, I'm not going to take a lunch today. I'm going to work through it to make sure I actually get out on time today, and I might be able to sneak out a bit early. Are you still gonna pick me up on the bike?" I asked sweetly, giving him a puppy dog look that I knew would make him melt.

"Anything you want, darlin'. But you better get going, or you're going to be late. Have a great day."

"You, too," I replied, and kissed him before leaving.

Work was hectic, and I was glad that I had planned to work through my lunch break because it would have happened whether I had wanted it to or not. At least this way I didn't have anything to get cranky over. I worked hard, only stopping to think about the upcoming weekend occasionally.

At ten to five I decided to sneak out, letting my co-workers know that I was ducking out a few minutes early. I didn't feel a bit bad about it, and was practically skipping as I left the building. However, when I got outside, Alex wasn't waiting in his usual spot. I glanced around the parking lot and still didn't see him.

I sat down on a bench and pulled out my cell phone to call him. When I opened it, however, I noticed that I had a missed call at 11:32 am, when I would have been on lunch. It was Alex. There was a voicemail.

My stomach lurched, and I knew something wasn't right. My mind quickly scanned all of the possibilities that could result in no ride and a message on my phone. I took a deep breath and dialed my voicemail. My hands shook and it took two tries to get the password right.

"Uh, Kim. Yeah. It's me. ...look...this just isn't going to work anymore. I've decided to work things out with my wife. We're getting back together, and I can't have you anywhere around. So please, just leave me alone. Don't call. I really don't want to see you again." Click. I stared straight ahead, breathing quickly until the computer voice came on and asked me to press a key. I repeated the message to make sure I had heard correctly, but nothing was different.

I slammed the phone shut, only to rip it open again. I held down the number two-the speed dial to his cell phone. There was no answer, so I called again. And again. And again. Finally, I heard dead air as the phone was answered, but the person on the other end was silent.

"Alex, it's me. What the hell is going on?" I demanded, almost hysterical on the verge of a scream.

"Look, you can't be calling here, Kim. You're obsessed with me, and it's not healthy. You're practically a stalker. I told you I don't want to see you anymore. I love my wife and we're a family. Don't call this number again, or I'll have to get a restraining order against you." Click.

"Alex?" I tried. There was nothing. I tried to speed dial his phone again, but it went straight to voicemail. He had shut his phone off.

I dialed the number to his office where his secretary answered the phone to tell me that he was out for the weekend.

"Bull shit, Linda. Let me talk to him or I'm coming over there."

"Kim," she pled, "Don't do this. Frankly, I'm surprised he hung on to you as long as he did. He goes through young women faster than people go through toothbrushes. I thought you understood that."

"Linda, he told me that he wanted to marry me! We were going away for the weekend!" I shouted.

"Whoa. I've never heard him as serious as that before," she comforted.

"I know he loves me. Why is he doing this?" I was crying now. Big, hot tears were sliding down my face.

"I really shouldn't be telling you this, but I can tell that you're upset. I feel so bad for you; you're such a sweet girl. Alex's wife has been causing problems over the divorce. She didn't want him to leave her, but everyone knows it's because he's her gravy train," she admitted.

"What the heck does that have to do anything? Divorces aren't a picnic," I said through gritted teeth.

"Well, she's threatening to take his business and his kids away. She has something over him, dear. He made an off-handed comment one day. I put two and two together. I'm not sure what it is, but I know it would ruin him. Possibly even put him in jail. Either way, he can't go from this lifestyle to having nothing," she said.

"And I'm not more important than his business and his money," I realized aloud.

"I'm sorry, dear," she said. "I wish there was something I could do to help. Are you going to be okay?"

I didn't bother responding before I hung up. I hit the ground on my knees, sobbing in a way that I had never sobbed over my husband or my divorce. My head was spinning. How could this have happened?

I replayed the message in my mind, wondering how I could have been so stupid. Used and abused. Again. Like the piece of garbage I always knew I was. It wasn't the fact that he had felt the need to use me that bothered me so much. I was really bothered by the fact that he had lied to me and led me on, pushing and pushing and pushing.

I climbed into my car and blew my nose on a Burger King napkin I found in the glove box. I picked up my phone and realized that there wasn't a person in the world that I had to call. Not a friend left after the divorce. No sympathy. I didn't know what to do.

Somehow, I managed to maneuver the car safely enough to drive home; I wiped away the tears and somehow found myself in the parking lot of my apartment building. It must have taken all of my energy to make it home, though, because I knew there was no way I could make it up to the apartment. I laid my head against the window, closed my eyes, and started sobbing again.

It seemed like seconds later when my door opened and I almost hit the ground. Two hands caught me and sat me back up. Before I could even open my eyes and figure out what was going on, those hands brushed the hair off my face and tucked it behind my ears. My head was spinning again.

I opened my eyes and looked into a face that I had seen once or twice before, but I couldn't place her. She was probably about my grandmother's age; she looked plain but friendly. I remembered noticing her curly hair, and mentally noting the way it curled perfectly, wondering if it was naturally or if she had to work hard to keep it that way. And here she was, wiping the tears off my face but I had no idea why.

Before I even had a chance to figure out what was going on, those hands were under my arms, lifting me out of the car. She grabbed my purse and led me upstairs. We were at my apartment before I knew it, and my tears had stopped. I took out my key ring and opened the door. I expected her to leave, but she followed me in, shutting the door behind her.

"Do you have any tea, or should I run grab some from my apartment?" she asked. She went into the kitchen, took the red tea pot off the stove, and began filling it in the sink. When she was finished, she put it on the stove and turned the burner on. "Well?" she prompted.

"Uh, there should be some above the stove, in the cupboard," I managed.

"Okay. Why don't you go put on some pajamas and a robe, and come back out here? Or would you rather lie down for a while first?" she asked sweetly.

"No. I'll just go clean up," I said flatly. I was too confused to argue, so I headed for the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I realized that I was starting to look a little like a member of Kiss. My face was pretty pale, and my mascara was running like a river, leaving black streaks down my face. I ran the cold water, leaning my head far down over the sink. The cold water hitting my face sent a chill down my spine. I washed quickly, wondering what the strange woman was doing in my apartment without my supervision.

I started to unlock the bathroom door, but hesitated long enough to change my mind. I turned around and put on a pair of pajamas that would be more comfortable, and tossed my warm, fluffy robe on. Feeling better, I headed out of the bathroom.

She was standing in the kitchen, pouring the boiling water into two cups with tea bags in them. I began to gather my wits about me, and decided it would be prudent to find out who this woman was, and why she was making tea in my kitchen. I figured it was time to demand answers. For as resolved as I was, though, my words didn't come out very confidently.

"Umm...may I ask who you are? And why you're here?" I wasn't very loud, and wondered for a second if I would have to repeat myself when she didn't answer instantly.

"I live downstairs. I thought you knew that," she replied cheerily.

"Well, yeah," I started, "but..."

"My name is Martha," she smiled. "I saw you crying in your car, and thought you could use a little help. I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds," she said, her forehead creasing a little with worry.

"No, no, it's alright," I said, not sure if I should thank her or not, not even sure if it actually was alright.

I sat down at the kitchen table and moved a pile of bills to the back of the table. I rested my head in the palms of my hands, sure that I was going to start crying again. Martha came over before I could start and set the cups of tea on the table, one directly in front of me. I looked up to see her sitting down in the chair across from mine.

"Now, are you ready to talk about what's going on?" There was a hint of concern in her voice.

Before I knew what I was doing, I started pouring my heart out to this woman that I barely knew. "Well, I'm sure you saw my ex-husband moving all of his junk out with his family. You were probably around to see our wedding reception about a year before that, too," I sighed.

Martha nodded her head, so I kept going, "Well, he wasn't a very nice guy. He had a job change that put a lot of stress on his shoulders, I think, and he turned into a different person. He started drinking a lot, doing some drugs, he was cheating on me, and he got pretty abusive," I said quietly.

"Yes," Martha replied, "I'd seen the cops here once or twice, and heard a commotion. I also saw you with black eyes and bruises more often than I could believe. Didn't the cops do anything about it?"

"Um, no. They didn't. See, his new job was with the local police force. They were all his friends and supported him no matter what. They started mocking me. And for the record, I never called the cops. One of the neighbors must have," I said, looking at the table completely ashamed.

When I looked up, Martha was looking at me with a wistful look on her face. She smiled a little encouragement and nodded her head. I took this as a sign to keep talking.

"I finally decided to stand up for myself and get it over with. I left him. The divorce is almost complete, but it does take a little while. I'm having a hard time getting a hold of him to do the paperwork." I was getting angry now, and she could hear it in my voice. She reached over and gave my free hand a little squeeze. I took a sip of my tea to calm down.

"Well, to make a long story short, someone sort of came to my rescue," I said with a visible grimace.

"Uh oh," Martha winced, "It gets worse, huh?"

"Yes. He was really sweet, and just seemed to pick the pieces of my life up. It was like they were pieces of a puzzle that never quite fit together, and here he was putting them together in a completely different way, and they seemed to fit alright...though not perfect," I said.

"But that sounds okay. An improvement, at least. What happened?" she asked.

"His name was Alex. He was a forty year old business owner, and he loved spoiling me rotten."

There wasn't an ounce of judgment showing on her face when she asked, "May I ask exactly how old you are, Kim dear?"

"I'm twenty," I said. She didn't even flinch or seem a bit surprised, and I marveled at the way she was able to keep her face emotionless. I wondered if it was a skill she had developed over time, and tried to consider what it would take for me to develop such a talent.

"Anyway, he doted on me in a way that I couldn't stand at first. I did get used to it, though, and started appreciating it a little. I was able to start over. I had the opportunity to turn myself into the person I had always longed to be. A clean slate-tabula rasa," I finished vehemently.

"Why the tears then?" she asked.

"Things were moving very quickly; too quickly, actually. I was getting a bit uncomfortable. I mean, I loved who I was turning into. I was confident, and I felt beautiful sometimes. I felt wanted, and I guess that's why I was with him," I considered, realizing it for the first time myself. "He was moving so quickly, though. He told me he loved me pretty quickly, and started talking about marriage. He got pretty controlling, too, but it was in small increments. I just let it go every time until there was no give left in the choke chain."

She nodded knowingly, but didn't say anything. Her silence was enough to encourage me to continue talking, though I couldn't make it any further without the tears coming back. I took a drink of tea, and a tear slid down my cheek as I began talking again.

"I started to need him. Really need him. I believed everything he said. I was addicted to him. Completely. I didn't want to marry him, but I think that somewhere inside, I loved him saying it. If for no other reason than to make me feel like I was still loveable-that someone could still want me. And he waited until he was sure that I was happy and as attached as possible to him before dropping me like a hot potato," I sobbed.

"What do you mean, dear?" she asked with concern.

"Last night, I was lying in his arms as we planned a weekend getaway for the two of us. I was just starting to feel okay, like everything was going to be fine, and I was actually excited for this trip in a way that I haven't been excited in years. But today, he called me a left a message on my phone, saying that he wasn't going to go through with his own divorce. He said he was getting back together with his wife and never wanted to see me again." I was crying now. Crying hard, like I had been in the car, and it was hard to get the last few words out.

Martha moved her chair over next to me, putting her arm around me and pulling me onto her shoulder. I cried harder than I ever remembered crying, except maybe once or twice when I was a kid. I was sobbing loudly, and the tears were rolling from my closed eyes. When I finally sat up, she wiped the tears from my face. I opened my eyes and noticed a large, wet spot on the shoulder of her shirt where I had been crying.

"Honey, you know God doesn't give you a cross bigger than you can carry," she comforted. "You didn't give yourself enough time to mourn your lost marriage before jumping into a new relationship. That's why you're extra upset now. You're crying for two lost relationships instead of just one."

"I know, I know," I cried.

"It's going to be a long road, but you'll get through this. You're a strong girl," she said quietly. "Let's get you tucked into bed."

I stood up with her help, still sniffling and crying a little bit. She took my cup of tea and followed me into the bedroom. Martha set the tea down on my night stand and helped pull my robe off, hanging it behind the door. I crawled into bed, and she pulled the covers up under my chin, tucking me in the way my grandmother did when I was little. She tucked the hair behind my ears one last time.

"My door will be open if you need me," she whispered, but my eyes were already closed and I barely heard her voice.

When I woke up, it was hours later and I wasn't sure how long I had been asleep. My head was fuzzy, and I couldn't move for a few seconds before everything started to come back to me...including the tears. However, I remembered Martha and realized that it all seemed so surreal.

I looked over and saw the cup of tea still sitting on my night stand where Martha left it. Next to it was a sticky note that said, "Every day, you do something that inches you closer to a better tomorrow." There was a phone number scrawled underneath it.

I clenched the note in my hand, lying back down on the fluffy pillow, stretching as far as I could across the queen bed. With the note stuck across my pointer finger, I lifted my hand and read it again. I repeated it over and over in my head until the words started to soak into my brain.

Looking up at the light from the window shining in above the curtains, I knew that I was going to be alright. No matter where I was in the world, no matter how alone I felt, there would always be someone to pick up the pieces and hold me together.