Vinnie Cavallero

In one year’s time, I will not think about his shirt size as I peruse the men’s section of Goodwill. I will not be thinking about how pocket tees were his favorite, or the ones with the sleeves that go three quarters of the way down his arms because he liked the way they showed off his watch. In fact I will skip over the large t shirt racks entirely, because we all know too well that my 5’8”, 126 pound self, does not belong there. The hanger filled rods once served as prison bars anyways.

In one year’s time I will not shudder when someone orders a grande, iced, almond milk americano with pumps of caramel. I will pump the 50¢ caramel, pull the espresso, add ice, pour water cold as he once was, a shot of almond milk, and hand off the drink with pleasure. This being his go to Starbucks order, or that he works here now will fail to even cross my mind.

In one year’s time I will begin to think about whether or not I will be going with my classic Summertime blonde. Maybe even doing it a month or so early. I will not be thinking about how he was never a fan of me dyeing my hair, or how he refused to speak to me for a few days afterward. Change of hair was not the change I needed back then. I will be living completely and totally for myself, refusing to allow the thoughts of others sway my actions.

In one year’s time I will not go on a stalking frenzy as he posts with boy after boy. I will not experience heartbreak all over again, and I will not be thinking of all the ways he is going to mess up this time. I will double tap with zero shame, and under my breath wish them the best. I will post on my Instagram story, and I will not dig through hundreds of views to see if “kevbonn_ viewed your story.” Because quite frankly, why do I care? What is done is done, and if he wants to see what I am up to, he will see. His secret is safe with me. At least it is a secret i’m aware of this time.

In one year’s time I will not be thinking about how I miss him. Despite his mistakes, abuse, and utter acts of selfish betrayal, I loved him endlessly. I will cherish the love I had for him, and the love that he had for me. Although expressed in different ways, we loved nonetheless.

In one year’s time I will not be afraid anymore. I will fearlessly enter new relationships and put myself out there with a newfound vulnerability that allows me to be open to possibility, but does not allow me to forget where I have come from. I will wear both my heart and my scars on my sleeve. I will not forget all that he had done to me, and I will not forget the aftermath of his actions, but from now on they will no longer hold me captive. I will normalize his name, and learn a new one or two.

In one year’s time it will be two year’s time, and I will be free.