It is late. Eleven, midnight, one. I am not sure now. We are standing in the parking lot of a gas station. The gas station is closed and DH is on a pay phone. I am about 300 feet away from him just standing, watching, waiting.
There has been another fight. His bag is packed. He is waiting on his mom. She is coming to take him home for the last time.
I do not remember what the fight was about. I do not remember if I yelled at him to go or begged him to stay. I just remember standing there, in the cold, watching his mom pick him up and them drive away. I remember walking the block back to the apartment in tears. Tired and defeated thinking that this was the end. This time he was never coming back.
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