There was another event during those first seven years of marriage that made me see my husband differently. I always thought I could count on him when I needed him. He always told me he would be there for me and he never disappointed me. Until one dark and stormy day.
My husband had come down to my duty location for a few days and I followed him back north to our house. Halfway home it began to snow. By time we left the last city behind it was full blown blizzard. I could barely see a few feet in front of my car. But one thing the AF taught me was how to drive in a blizzard and on ice. I had been stationed in some pretty remote spots and I knew how to drive on snow. Besides, my husband was in front of me blazing the way in his four wheel drive Jeep.
The blizzard became so bad I could barely keep up with him. It was almost dark when he began to pull away from me. My windshield wipers could no longer keep up with the snow that was packing on the blades. I slowed to 25mph and watched his tail lights grow dim. I flashed my headlight, I didn't want to be alone out there. If the freeway was closed ahead I would be stuck on the side of the road. If I lost traction and left the road I would be stuck. My cell phone lost coverage. He kept driving and in a few minutes I could no longer see his taillights.
My head ached from the tension of trying to see through the driving snow. The wind gusted against my small car. My hands gripped the wheel as I tried to relax and concentrate on the road. I concentrated on what I knew about driving in bad weather. I squinted into the blizzard trying to make sure I didn't drive up on someone stranded. Slowly taillights appeared and I pulled up on an old pickup driving about 20mph. It had Montana license plates and it doggedly moved forward, never slowing. I kept as far behind as I could and still keep his lights in sight. It grew dark and we just kept moving forward. The world shrank to halo of light around the driving snow and the two dim taillights up ahead.
I recognized the rocks that marked the state line. Only about 15 more miles to go. I had to try and reach around the window to knock snow off the windshield. I thought about stopping and clearing the snow but I was afraid I would not be able to get traction again. There was the weigh station. Eight more miles. The first entrance into town. The truck and I hadn't seen any other vehicles. Should I take the outer road home? The visibility would be low. Should I take the in-town exit? Snow might be packed up at the intersections.
I took the exit into town thinking that if I got stuck at least I could knock on someone's door. The truck from Montana kept heading north. I wished the driver well and thanked him for making me feel less alone. My car slowly made it's way through the snowy streets drifting over now. I hit the low hills before my subdivision and tried to keep a steady speed so I wouldn't lose traction. The last two intersections before home were heavily drifted over. I plowed through them and managed to stay on the road. My driveway! My home! I was exhausted. My head felt like it was going to explode.
I walked into my house, warm and well lit. My husband getting some food in the kitchen smiled a welcome to me. I burst into tears.
What's wrong, he asked. I didn't know what to say. Why did you drive off and leave me? Leave you, he said. You know how to drive in the snow. I couldn't help you. The Jeep couldn't go that slow. I figured if you got stuck someone could call me at home. No sense both of us being stuck. You're OK. You made it. I was too tired to be angry. Fuck you, I said. Just go fuck yourself. A good offense always being the best defense my husband turned away and launched into his favorite tirade. I guess everything is my fault! It's my fault it snowed! And then he pouted. He scowled at his feet. He slumped onto the couch. He pouted. I cried out of sheer frustration and exhaustion.
Like all things in my life if given enough time things eventually look better or disappear. This did too. But the fact is he drove off and left me.
