Chapter 10 - The Horizon
On a bright, clear Saturday morning in May, I stood on the back deck of the cabin in Hocking Hills.
I had rented it again. Not for twenty-three ungrateful relatives, not for a birthday party, and not to cook for three days straight.
I had rented it for myself.
I wore a simple navy sweater, comfortable jeans, and leather hiking boots. Beside me on the wooden table sat a sketchbook filled with initial architectural drawings for a new home restoration project I was taking on in downtown Columbus—a project funded entirely by my own career advancements and recent promotion to Principal Project Engineer.
The swimming pool below the deck was open, its clear blue water glistening under the warm spring sunlight.
I walked down the wooden steps, past the stone fire pit, and stood at the concrete edge of the pool—the exact spot where Ethan had shoved me seven months ago.
I looked down into the water.
Seven months ago, I had hit that concrete coping bruised, bleeding, and shattered—a woman who had compromised her self-worth, her finances, and her dignity to purchase the temporary approval of people who found her pain entertaining.
I reached into my sweater pocket and pulled out a small, laminated photograph—a photo taken on the night of Ethan’s birthday, showing the beautiful three-tier dark chocolate cake I had spent six hours making while he drank bourbon upstairs.
I looked at the photo for a long second, remembering the woman who had stayed up until two in the morning baking for a man who didn't even thank her.
I let go of the photo. It drifted into the small black fire pit beside the pool, landing among the cold ash of last night's campfire.
I pulled out a wooden match, struck it against the stone, and dropped it onto the paper. The blue flame caught instantly, curling the edges of the photo into light black smoke that drifted up toward the high oak canopy overhead.
My phone chimed in my pocket. It was an email alert from my bank:
Direct Deposit Confirmed: Executive Bonus & Quarterly Dividend - $28,500.00 deposited to Claire Vance Primary Account.
I closed my phone, sliding it back into my pocket without a second glance.
I walked to the edge of the pool, kicked off my hiking boots, stepped onto the top concrete step of the shallow end, and lowered myself slowly into the cool, clear water.
May you like
The water was crisp, clean, and refreshing against my skin. I took a deep, clean breath of the spring air, leaned my head back against the surface, and let the water carry me effortlessly toward the center of the pool.
I floated under the vast, wide Ohio sky—completely alone, entirely independent, and finally, completely free.
