9 Lives and 1 Country
The receipt printed out slowly, deliberate, as if the amount wasn't truly official until it was on a flimsy piece of paper folded in my wallet.
"Jesus," I muttered to myself. "$127.60? This better be worth it."
I'd never filled up a tank in an RV before, but I should have known it wasn't going to be cheap. I also imagine it wasn't going to be the last unexpectedly steep expense on this little journey, and I did my best to prepare financially for any worst case scenario I may eventually encounter. I've dealt with enough bullshit in the months leading up to this existential crisis trek to clear my head and I sure as shit wasn't going to leave it up to chance to get the most out of this experience.
I stood on my toes in order to be able to peak inside one of the side windows to see what was going on and was immediately met with nothing but vulnerable stares. Three sets of eyes returned my gaze. Six very timid yet inquisitive eyeballs still unsure of what to make of their new, temporary housing situation.
"Meow?" I'm greeted with. "Meow, meow?"
When faces with any sort of life-altering situation, most people try to make life-altering changes in their day to day lives. Now, that obviously means different things for different people depending on the circumstances. New job, location, vices... it really could be just about anything. I, on the other hand, decided it meant everything. I was married for six years, living a very generic 9-to-5 life consisting of the occasional post-work beer with co-worked commiserating about the day that just past. But mostly my life was a steady dose of coming straight home after work to a homecooked meal followed by a very relaxing and needed evening lounging on the couch with my significant other, watching... well it never really mattered what we watched. That part was irrelevant. At thirty, it wasn't exciting by any means but it was exactly the type of life I craved. Simply put, I was happy and was still a ways away from facing and sort of midlife crisis... or so I thought.
"This is what I want," I would tell myself repeatedly, not in an attempt to convince myself. It was more of a reminder to appreciate it even though I never really needed it.
But then one seemingly uneventful March evening everything changed. I still remember exactly where I was sitting and, ironically, what I was watching, when the most devastating words came out of her mouth.
"I don't love you anymore..." she venomously spewed out without even having the courage to look me in the eye.
"I don't love you anymore and I don't see the point of even trying to continue this charade."
It was so blunt and came so far out of left field that I couldn't even decipher if it was even happening or just a bad dream. I couldn't even fathom the severity of what was being said that I just continued watching TV. I was afraid to move or think or even breathe. I was an empty vessel numbed to the point of indifference.
From there, the only sounds I remember hearing was her noisily gathering a few necessities, her laptop and changes of clothes and then the sound of the front door being closed rather hastily. I never even looked back or tried to convince her that she wasn't acting rationally. The words were brief but filled with conviction. Her mind was made up. This wasn't the life she wanted, at least not anymore.
That was six months ago.
We haven't spoken since.
We never even said goodbye.
It took a while before it hit me like a ton of bricks. The delusions that this was all just temporary were like band-aids on a gunshot wound. Once reality set in, the process of reclaiming who I was became a long, arduous climb that, at times, felt impossible. Every step was an exhaustive. I wasn't ready to deal with pretending life would go on.
Something had to change.
That's when I decided to step outside my comfort zone and end that chapter of my life. I'm not just talking about our chapter, I'm talking about that chapter of my life in general.
That's when I decided to sell everything, buy an RV and treat my cats to a cultural experience most cats would never dream of.
"Meow," I whispered back. "Fucking meow"
