Member-only story
When Closure Is Out of Reach
On seeing my abuser when I least expected it
I wasn’t sure I would ever see you again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. By the time I left, I was so afraid of you that I didn’t even think about anything but getting away from you. It never occurred to me to prepare for what happened this morning.
When abusive relationships end—or when someone flees one, as I did—the focus is on the escape. The shape of these endings is not the same as the endings of other, of “normal,” relationships. It’s not a transition, one door closing so another can open or the turning of a page with other pages yet to be explored. It’s a full stop. It’s a “road closed” sign with a cliff on the other side. It’s a blackout.
Closure is a thing for rational, functional people. It’s a luxury, really. I knew it wasn’t an option for me, for us.
When I saw you this morning, I froze. I suddenly understood the deer, the rabbit. You froze too. What else could we do? There was just the two of us, an empty bus station, and the smell of burning coffee.
I wasn’t afraid, like I thought I’d be. It was the “good you,” the old you (the real you? I still don’t know) that was in control this morning. I could see it in the clearness of your eyes, the sadness of your expression. It would have taken so little to run to…
