Unapologetically Me Read online

  UNAPOLOGETICALLY ME

  TARA BENHAM

  Copyright © 2018 by Tara Benham Cover Design by Wit & Whimsy Editing by Marisa Rosera

  Interior design by Classic Interior Design All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is dedicated to:

  The survivors, the ones who were too much, or not enough.

  To quote Seuss:

  “Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you.”

  CHAPTER 1

  n movies, breakup scenes always involve girls crying in cars. It’s so cliché, yet here I am, crying in my car after a

  breakup. But this isn’t one of those heartbroken scenes, oh no, I am not mad. I am furious. I wasted ten years with this man, ten of my best years, for him to tell me he found someone else. So, yes, I’m sitting in my car, crying. Our love story isn’t one of redeeming love that will find us back together, oh no. I wouldn’t give him a second chance if he asked. I can’t believe I gave him the first chance, or that I let it last this long. Sometimes we find ourselves in situations that are easier to stay in because they are what we know. That was my relationship with Hank. He was all I had known since I was nineteen. He was comfort‐ able like an old pair of sweats, but I knew I could do better. Fear of being alone stayed any ideas I had of leaving. Plus, it’s hard to leave and be single in your twenties when all of your friends are getting married and having babies. I wasn’t even engaged after ten years. As I sat, sobbing, hands resting on the steering wheel, I gave myself an internal pep talk. “Okay, we can take until midnight tonight to cry and be mad, but then it’s off to a new start. We will make up for lost time.” I didn’t say it was a good pep talk, it was weak, but it was all I had.

  I HAD COME HOME TO AN EMPTY HOUSE. MY QUINTESSENTIAL CAR

  scene happened because I left him alone to pack his things and move out. The house was mine after all. Even knowing I would walk into a half empty house, the visceral reaction was more than I had antici‐ pated. I was alone. I had never lived alone, and the aloneness was very in my face. There was a new kind of silence, the kind where questions were thrown to the wind, never to be returned. I sat on my couch and took in the sight. I didn’t have a recliner or a desk. Half of me was gone, and I was mourning. Not because I missed Hank, but because this was like a death, of me. I would never be the same person, and I didn’t know how to be this alone person. I was too tired to try to process my feelings, and so I went to my bedroom and crashed. That night, even in bed, sobs racked my body. When I woke up, my eyes were swollen and red. I stumbled out of the bed, and headed toward the kitchen. Horror struck when I realized that my fancy coffee maker, the one that would make those mind tingling espressos, was gone. Well, that’s just evil, he doesn’t even drink coffee. I dug around my storage closet and found an old coffee maker from prehistoric times, and found that I still had ground coffee, and a couple of filters. It took me a moment to figure out how exactly to make the coffee, but once I remembered, I was good to go. I left the kitchen to shower, and when I returned, the smell of coffee wafted throughout my house. I forgot how much I enjoyed coffee in a coffee pot, and not the single cups. Unfortunately, I was not so good at making the coffee that way, apparently, as there were grounds when I poured it into my mug. I admitted defeat and decided to head to the local coffee shop.

  My drive there provided me with a dose of reality. I would have to find a job. I hadn’t worked since I dropped out of college and followed Hank around the world as he climbed his way through the ranks. I realized now that by not marrying me, he had essentially kept me from ever being able to legally access his money. MONEY! I made a sharp turn at the intersection, not giving any attention to the horns blaring, and pulled up to the bank. Inside, I was nervous. Hank prob‐

  ably emptied all the bank accounts. Stress began to cause ripples of goosebumps to flood my body. The teller, a young lady with soft brown eyes, smiled as I stepped up to her counter.

  “Hi, I’m Owlynn Lockett. I need to check the balance in my account and possibly look into opening a new one.” I could hear my voice slipping as I spoke.

  “Oh yes, Miss Lockett, we have a note from Hank Neverins to make sure that you have full help with setting up your account. He left you ten thousand dollars and a note that says good luck.” She smiled.

  I think she thought he was being helpful. I managed our money for ten years. Basically, he had equated my worth to a thousand a year. I shouldn’t be complaining; by all legal rights, everything in our account had been his and he could have easily taken it, but he didn’t. Shaking my head, I refused to let him get to me. Someone more proud might have turned away that money, but I needed it to survive until I figured out what I was going to do in life, what I was even capable of doing.

  “Miss?” She was waiting for me to tell her what to do.

  “Oh, yes, sorry. Please open a checking and savings account in my name alone. Please place four thousand into the savings, and the remainder into my checking.” I provided her with my license and said a silent prayer that the home I lived in had been left to me by my grandmother. I only had to pay the bills.

  “All finished. Here’s your account number, and would you like to order checks?”

  “No, thank you. Can I set up an online banking account here?”

  It took less than ten minutes for me to switch to my first indepen‐ dent bank account and to have everything finished. Tens seemed to be a recurring reminder of the time I wasted with Hank. Wasted sounds harsh, but at twenty-nine years old, I have nothing more to show for myself than I did at nineteen. Well, other than a nicer wardrobe, a filled passport, and memories. I had no family left as they had passed. I was a single child of parents who were single children. Most of my friends from high school fell away as I moved up in social status with Hank. I was unsure if the friends I had made through him would

  continue to be my friends now that we were no longer together. I gathered all my new information and headed to my original destina‐ tion. Coffee.

  The coffee shop was teeming with people. I had sufficient time to decide what I wanted as the line was long. I had luckily remembered to get cash out before I left the bank because the teller said it would be another two or three days before my new card was mailed to me. When I got to the counter, the girl behind was bouncy and smiling. I was amazed because some of the customers before me had been not so kind.

  “Order please?” Her name tag identified her as Amber.

  “Hi, Amber. Can I get just a plain coffee, with a splash of vanilla creamer?”

  “Of course.” Her smile grew with the kindness shown to her. I was stepping to the side for the next customer when her question came. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because everyone deserves respect.” “What is your name?”

  “Owlynn.” “Thank you.”

  I nodded and finished stepping to the side to wait for my coffee. I saw a help wanted sign. A job, this was high on my list. I took down the information for where I could apply online.

  “Owlynn, here’s your coffee.” “Thank you.”

  “I have a break right now, would it be okay if I sat with you?” Amber’s eyes looked hopeful.

  “Please.”

  “I saw you taking down the information for the job, are you looking for yourself or someone else?”

  “Myself.” My gaze dipped some.

  “No offense, but you don’t look like someone who would need a job.”

  “None taken. As of last night, I am
most definitely someone in

  need of a job.” I snorted. “Unfortunately, I do not have any skills for a job. As I have been a trophy wife, basically, for the last ten years.”

  “Well, fortunately for you, I am the manager here. Why don’t you come in tomorrow and we’ll do a trial run? We can see if this is a good fit for you.”

  “Really? But you don’t even know me.” I sputtered the words out, realizing they were probably harsher sounding than I had meant for it to.

  She laughed. “Really. I won’t even ask what happened, well not yet at least. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it looks as if I’m going to have to cut this break short.” She winked and indicated toward the line.

  “Thank you.”

  “Be here at six thirty in the morning.”

  I finished my coffee and headed to my car. I was unsure what I was going to do with the remainder of my day. My planner indicated that I was to meet Harriet for lunch at McKamey’s later, but I didn’t know if she would still be waiting for me. I didn’t even know if Hank had told everyone else yet. I straightened my shoulders and held up my head, determined that I would not let him get to me. As I sat in the car, the a/c blowing my hair, I decided on how to spend my time before lunch. I called my hairdresser, and lucky for me, she had had a cancellation and could fit me in. The drive there was less than ten minutes, but I made the choice to go drastic.

  My hairdresser, Bre, was superficial in a sense, but she had always been kind to me. She was phenomenal, too, so I kept coming back to her. I looked around the empty shop as I entered. The door had a little bell over it, indicating to her when someone came in. I didn’t under‐ stand why because unless she was in the back, she had line of sight of the door from every space in her salon.

  “Owlie”—she did the two-cheek kiss—“you’re not due for another three weeks, what do I owe this surprise?”

  I cringed at the nickname. It was Hank had called me. I had always hated it, but today, it stung. I took a deep breath and smiled.

  “Well, Bre, I’ve decided I want a change. And before you try to talk me out of it, don’t. I am set.”

  “Let’s hear your idea.” She looked leery. My hair was her baby.

  “I want to cut it to my shoulders and put in some dark blue streaks.”

  “Blue? In your gorgeous blonde hair?” She looked offended. “Yes.” I leveled my eyes to hers.

  “It’s your hair. What does Hank have to say about blue?” she asked as she walked away toward the chair.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I’m not sure he will even know.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. The blue will show up so that everyone will know.”

  “No, Bre. He won’t know because he left me.” The words physically hurt to say. It was shocking how much it hurt. I didn’t love Hank, but I still missed the life I had had with him.

  “What?” she practically yelled as she spun to face me.

  “Last night. He told me he no longer loved me and had found someone else.” I willed myself to not let any more tears fall after last night.

  “Well, then let’s get some blue in that hair and cut off, what, like eight inches?”

  “Yes, please.”

  The time in the salon chair was relaxing. As she washed, cut, and dyed my hair, I closed my eyes. Thankfully, Bre was an expert at distraction, and we talked about anything and everything but Hank. I knew I would have to steel myself for Harriet. If she showed up, she would have a barrage of questions for me. None that I would know how to answer, but she would still ask.

  Two hours passed before Bre turned me to face the mirror. “Do you like it?” she asked, grinning with excitement.

  Staring back at me was someone unrecognizable. She looked tired, broken, and sad. I had expected the short hair to feel lighter, to lift off this crushing feeling from my shoulder, but it didn’t. It just further distanced the image in front of me from who I thought I was, and before I could stop them, the tears fell down my cheeks.

  “Oh no, no… if you hate it we can fix it.” Bre hugged my shoulders. “It’s not that I hate it, I just don’t know who I am…” I took a deep

  breath, looked at myself in the mirror again, and smiled. “This person can be me, just as well as any other one. Thank you for the change.”

  She didn’t look like she quite believed me, but she let me stand. I paid her in cash and made my way to the car. Lunch with Harriet was in fifteen minutes, and like it or not, I had begun the changes. As I headed to the restaurant, I promised myself I would learn, grow, and change every day. The next thirty days would bring what they would, and I would select how I was going to face them. Not how I thought Hank would want me to face them. By the time I made it to the restaurant, I was feeling more confident in myself and my hair cut. I parked my car and crossed the street.

  The restaurant was already bustling with people. Lunch was the time for wives to meet and plan out the events for the week and month. Harriet was seated in the back corner at our regular table. The concierge greeted me, only slightly stumbling over my hair. I was semi-amused at the reactions that were starting to spread like wild‐ fire. By the time I had reached the middle of the room, all eyes were on me and my hair. Owlynn Lockett has blue in her hair. Whatever will Hank think? I cannot believe she would come here like that. Surprisingly, there was just as many eyes of admiration as there was admonition. Harriet sat, glued to her chair watching me approach. Looking down, I almost giggled. I wasn’t even in lunch-wear, just a pair of white capris and a red and navy striped top. The audacity. This time I did giggle, and it felt good. I couldn’t remember the last time I giggled from joy, and not due to expectation.

  “Owlie, whatever have you done to yourself. What does Hank think?” She fake-smiled in support.

  “Well, seeing as he left me for some twenty-two-year-old, I personally couldn’t care less what he will think.” I smiled, softening the harshness of the words I spewed at her.

  “He did what?” Her eyes were so round, she reminded me of a cartoon character. “When?”

  “Last night. I wasn’t even sure you would be here; I figured word had spread already.” I lifted my shoulder in a half shrug.

  “Beau didn’t mention it to me, but then again, I haven’t talked to him since he got to work this morning. Let me check my messages.”

  She picked her phone up from her purse and began reading hastily. Several times, she would glance up at me and then back to what must have been a novel of a text. When she finished, she placed the phone back in her purse and then slowly looked up at me. She was shaking her head but not willing to state anything that was in her messages. I was beginning to wonder if that had all been from Beau or if others in our circle had messaged her too.

  “Owlynn, I must say that I am shocked, truly. However, it was kind of him to leave you money and the house so that you can get on your feet.” She smiled.

  Rage rushed through me. “Left me the house? It is MY house. We were living in it so we could save money. My grandmother left me that house in her will. He didn’t LEAVE me the house because he didn’t OWN the house. As for the money, he equated me to a worth of a thousand dollars per year spent with him. I was an obligation, a possession to be bought off.”

  My voice rose higher with each word. Hank was going to regret spreading lies if this was the manner he was planning on dealing with the end of our relationship. I had information that would ruin his career. I had had no thoughts of doing that, though, because some‐ where inside I still loved him and wanted him happy, but he was starting to play a dangerous game. I was seething. I leveled my gaze on Harriet.

  “I didn’t mean to make you mad,” she began. “I understand the crazy hair now, but it’s not going to get you the attention from Hank that you are wanting. You need to show him what he is missing if you want him back, and as a professional’s wife, you can’t go around dying your hair blue, Owlie.”

  “I wasn’t his wife, Harriet, or have you forgotten that? I was nothing to hi
m, a side piece that ran his business and helped reach his goals. Once he got there, he dropped me. So, no, I am not going to grab his attention with this hair, thank God! I did this for me. I have done everything in the past ten years for Hank, and for once, I did

  something for me.” I paused… watching her watch me all wide-eyed and feigning hurt at my outburst. “Harriet, I think I’m going to excuse myself. I am too upset to handle this right now, and I refuse to continue to play this game.”

  As I stood to leave, several of the women in the room stood up with me and applauded. The clapping stopped me dead in my tracks. Apparently, I wasn’t alone in the feeling of being a living doll. Well, today it ended. I didn’t know who I was, but I was going to learn. On my way out, I passed a mirror and caught a glimpse of a woman. I liked her reflection. She looked strong and independent. She was me. I raised my head and left. Anger coursed inside, but there was no good in letting it get to me.

  Once in my car, again, I realized I had no plans. My planner told me I was to have a dinner function with Hank at his office tonight. I had written that I would need a new dress. Since that was no longer on the books, I decided I would go home.

  CHAPTER 2

  could hear the ticking of a clock, and the songs of the birds outside, but it only added to the fact that my house was

  silent. It was so unsettling, that I noticed the sound of my heart beating in my ear. I had never had a problem with silence before, but this was a different kind of silence. I turned my music on, synced it to my Bluetooth speaker, and stood in the foyer of my house, staring. My grandmother’s house was huge, which is why Hank was eager to claim it as our house. It was an old historic home in the center of town, and again a sign of status to him. To me, it was where I grew up, learned to love, and where I left one night, with a grandmother begging me to rethink my choices. Hank had hired someone to paint every room white, believing it was a sign of class. I hated it; it felt like it made my house look unfinished. Changing this would be the first step in my new-found freedom. I grabbed a notebook and pen from inside a drawer of the table beside me. Listing each room in my house, I decided a new paint job would be a good way of starting to change this house into mine, and mine alone. Walking around the kitchen, I looked at my beautiful flatware and china that Hank had bought me that were on display in the hutch. I only received these because he was having a dinner party for his new boss that year and wanted to look