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with you.” The other end of the phone went silent and I waited nervously for Justin to either hang up or answer me.
    “Things not working out, huh?” he finally answered in a soft voice. Tears welled up in my eyes. “No, Justin, they aren’t. I need to leave and get away from here. I can’t take it anymore.” My tears started rolling out of my eyes, down my cheeks, and into the phone receiver; I tried to wipe them away but the more I wiped, the more the tears gushed out of my eyes.
    “Can you be ready by tomorrow at eleven?” Justin asked.
    My tears immediately stopped and I sat up straight in the armchair. “Are you serious?” I asked. “You would take me down there with you? What do I take, what do I do?”
    “Just pack up your clothes that you want to leave with and I’ll fill you in and give you some brochures on the way down.” Justin stopped and I could hear him swallow.
    “How are you going to tell Matt?” he asked.
    I hadn’t thought of that. I had only been thinking of myself up to that point; what was going to be best for me and what was going to save me . Before I could answer, I heard a truck rumble up into Matt’s driveway. Matt was home.
    “I’ll figure it out, Justin. I’ll be ready at eleven and if anything changes, I’ll call you.” I had to get off of the phone before Matt heard me, but before I could, Justin said something to me that gave me the strength I needed to leave Matt and my current situation.
    “Sarah, I’m proud of you.” Justin said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    I couldn’t remember the last time someone actually said those words to me, that they were proud of me. I had been proud of myself once or twice, but rarely did anyone go out of their way to tell me that they were impressed or proud of something I had done, or in this case, what I was about to do. “Eleven o’clock,” I whispered before I put the phone back into its cradle.
    Of all days for Matt to treat me to a bouquet of flowers, it had to be that day. He bounded into the house with the excitement of a ten-year-old boy who had just caught his first fish. I had just gotten up out of the recliner to greet him when he rushed over and got down on one knee in front of me, holding the bright bouquet of flowers he had brought home in front of him. “I love you, Sarah!” he exclaimed. I smiled and looked directly into his eyes and saw that they were bloodshot. Of course he is high. I bent over and kissed the top of his head. “They are beautiful, sweetheart!” I exclaimed and took the flowers from his outstretched hands.
    I couldn’t utter the words “I love you” back to him. I was about to do one of the most selfish acts of my life and walk out on him tomorrow. Waves of guilt washed over my body. I wanted to tell him, but I couldn’t bring myself to utter the words, to tell him that I was going to leave him the very next day and that I would never be back. I didn’t want to see hatred in his eyes or see his disappointment in me written all over his face; deep down I still wanted him to love me.
    In an act that I have always considered cowardly and weak, I left Matt without saying good-bye or telling him why I was leaving. I spent my last night with Matt talking and laughing and reliving a lot of old times. I wanted him to remember the good times we had together and hopefully alleviate some of the hatred he was going to feel toward me in less than twenty-four hours. We didn’t make love that evening, but he fell asleep in my arms and I wept silently and gently kissed his head as the sun rose over the cornfield.
    Please, God, forgive me for what I am about to do , I prayed as the sun turned the corn husks golden yellow.
    Every Sunday morning for as long as I had been with Matt, we had brunch with his brother and sister-in-law at their house on the edge of town. This morning was no different, and Matt was up by nine o’clock getting showered and dressed for our Sunday routine. I sat on the edge of