The sun wasn’t up yet. The entire house was still snoring, but I was off to Wal-Mart to purchase the one thing I swore I would never touch, let alone buy.
I blamed Matt for my sudden desperation to get my hands on this piece of literature. He had brought home the Redbox movie because there wasn’t anything better to rent and because the girls at work were always talking about it.
I scoffed, but watched it anyway.
The next morning I snuck off to Wal-Mart.
All day I laid on the couch and read. The following weeks I did very little else. I read through all three books. Twice. And when the second movie came out on DVD, I waited in line for the midnight release surrounded by twelve year-olds.
To the outside, it seemed harmless, but inside my thoughts lost all touch with reality. I was having an affair with a vampire. Edward was a fantasy, but Robert Pattinson was flesh and blood.
I began wasting hours watching videos about Robert. Then, I would delete my history, because I didn’t want Matt to ask why.
If only I could meet Robert, we’d connect instantly.
If only I wasn’t pregnant, I could runaway to California.
You see, we had recently moved from a loving nurturing environment to a place where daily I lived a real world Mean Girls. The move sent us into a financial tailspin and we had the unexpected surprise of baby #4.
I began to resent Matt, my kids and everyone around me, but I was too afraid to admit it, so I denied it, put a Jesus Band-aid on it, and spent most days sinking into a grey abyss.
I was so desperate to escape my reality, that I began to believe any fantasy.
But then, just like any other fantasy, the vapor evaporated. My gilded treasure lost it’s luster. I quietly packed up my shame, stuffed it deep down inside and closed the latch.
My secret was safe with me. I was still the good girl.