The Starlight Motel room was small and plain. But it was clean. Kirk had kicked up a fuss when I told him my plans to withdraw for a time to meditate.

“So,” he drawled, his face just short of a sneer as he paced the floor like a caged pit bull, “You’re gonna go back to being little religious, Neecy, huh?” The smell of alcohol reached me halfway across the bedroom, but tonight, it didn’t upset me as much. His words, however, punched me with the impact of Joe Frazier’s boxing glove.

I gazed at him, struggling for calm. “I’m going to be me, Kirk, is all.”

He glared at me as though wanting to say more, but he didn’t.

“I’ll call you when – ”

He was suddenly in my face. “Why can’t you tell me where you’re going?”

“Because,” I met his gaze levelly and spoke through clenched teeth, “I need time alone.”

I did. I also needed an ounce of control over my life, as boxed in as it was, as stifling and desolate and damning as it was. Kirk had done it again: stripped me of everything.

Now, I had to find me in yet another definition. It wasn’t fair. But that was how it was. And I would be damned to Hell, literally, if I couldn’t at least have this one concession.

“Hah!” His abrupt derision startled me, left me shaking. “Probably got ol’ Johnny tucked away somewhere. Or Nighthawk. I saw ‘im eyeing you at the funeral home. He’s a snake in – ”

“Johnny nor Nighthawk don’t play into – ”

“ – the grass. He’s no good. Never was – ”

“Stop it, Kirk. I’m only – ”

“ – worth the salt in his bread. Not even in high school. He – ”

I spun and walked away. “I’ll see you in three days,” I called back and slammed out the door.

I took only bottled water and sandwich fixings to store in the tiny refrigerator. I would eat only when necessary, I decided. In the back of my mind, I still dreaded Kirk’s assessment of me after I left here. He already laughed at my ‘weirdness.’

Sleeplessness had rendered me vulnerable to weeping fits and nerves so raw as to be terminable. One recent night, Kirk had gotten up to go to the bathroom and found me outside on the porch, huddled in its dark corner, balled into a fetal knot. I’d long ago learned that he’d not come looking for me during my nightmare hours. Would, in fact, not miss a wink of sleep nor a daytime meal due to my distress. So, my disintegration was my own.

I’d never, in my worst hours, felt so alone.

“What’re you doing out here?” he’d asked coldly, squinting blearily at me as though I were a mole invading his flowerbed.

I’d looked helplessly at him, depression slicing me to ribbons, hardly knowing where I was. “I – I don’t want to live, Kirk,” I whispered hoarsely, not expecting, not even hoping he’d care. Just – answering his query.

“Aww, you’ll be okay, Janeece.” He snorted then, “You’re too selfish to kill yourself.” With that, he yawned mightily and padded back upstairs and slept the rest of the night.

I kicked off my shoes in the motel room, closed the blinds and picked up my Bible. Another episode flashed from nowhere. One rock-bottom day, for some reason, maybe a slip of Kirk’s tongue had led me to believe he’d begun to feel a bit of something for me again, or maybe desperation or survival instinct jolted me into crying out, “Kirk, I need just a little reassurance that – ”

His laugh, a harsh snort of disdain, halted my appeal. “Reassurance? Reassurance?”

It was the burning look in his eyes that froze me into a thing. “Reassure yourself, Janeece. You’re a middle-aged woman, for God’s sake.”

My fingers stilled on the Bible’s pages and I cringed anew at his scorn. I knew his perception of me was distorted. Knew for a certainty that I did not harbor self-pity. Nor was I more selfish than – well, I’d learned through all this that everybody is basically a selfish being. I was no more self-absorbed than the next person, regardless of Kirk’s taunting insinuations. What I did know was that I was in this alone for the long haul.

I couldn’t change Kirk. I couldn’t change anybody else in this whole world.

But I could change me. Somewhere, there was a place for me where I would find peace, where I could love and be loved, but first, I must find me.

“God, help me find me.”

Guilt ambushed me as I whispered my first words. I’d left my Maker behind for so long. In retrospect, there was no justification for my abandonment.

A conflux of emotions dropped on me. I couldn’t dissect the mass of squiggly snakes that crawled over, around and inside me.

Immediately, I locked the door, climbed on the firm mattress with its Cloroxed sheets and began to read my Bible and meditate.

On the fourth morning, I took a long hot, soaking bath. Afterward, I picked up my suitcase, gazed around the little room with its nondescript floral drapes and equally dismal bedspread and was astonished to find I dreaded leaving it. For three days, it had wrapped about me like a warm blanket and kept the cold world outside, cocooning me with words of life and a warm presence of truth. Within its confines, I’d forgotten food as I’d petitioned first for forgiveness, then canoed from harsh desolation toward a shoreline I’d never before known existed. I knew instinctively it was a land of renovation.

There, in the still oasis, I shut up and did more listening than I’d ever done in my life. A video of the past years ran nonstop, one I viewed through new eyes and emotions. This time, the scenes portrayed the humanness of loved ones who’d brought me pain. This time, when I wept, it was for them. With each victory, I felt strength rise a notch.

Words and phrases leapt from the Bible’s pages to smite and enlighten. I was desperate to absorb as much of this inviolable atmosphere as possible, knowing I had nothing else. Without it, I was nothing.

It was there, on that thought that it happened.

As I lay flat on the bed, admitting that, without Divine help, I was nothing, I felt myself lifted gently from the mattress into a bubble of golden mist – where the air seemed stirred by angel’s wings. I knew to describe it would seem hokey, but I didn’t care. There I glimpsed a glowing presence that lit the entire chamber so brightly my eyes snapped shut against it. I wasn’t afraid. I knew who joined me and tears squeezed from beneath my tightly shut lids and coursed down my cheeks.

And suddenly, I knew. Truth invaded me like a zillion fireworks exploding at once. I experienced a presence so powerful it still affects my life to this day. With complete clarity I heard the rumbling many waters voice: “The best way to hold on is to let go. Neecy, you’re going to be all right. I‘m with you.”

I began to laugh, humongous belly busting guffaws, propelled by joy that comes from liberation.

I alternately laughed and wept from sheer happiness, suspended there in that marvelous aura of purity and goodness until I opened my mouth to say, “thank you,” and the words were not English. This time, I let the utterances flow, whooping and weeping and then, finally, feeling that warm honey pour over me until I was satiated as a wee baby burping from Mama’s milk. The peace of it released me into a babe’s slumber.

The next morning, in its aftermath, I was so different from the Janeece who’d walked in there days ago that I wondered if somehow my looks would reveal what had transpired. A glance in the mirror dispelled that notion because, actually, I looked thinner and more wan. But my eyes said it all. The fear was gone.

I walked out the door and for the first time in years, felt up to the task at hand.

My euphoria lasted exactly twenty minutes. The time it took to drive home. It being Wednesday, Toby and Dawn were in school. Kirk sat at the kitchen table, a study of morose brooding.

“Hi,” I said warmly, then headed for our room to unload the suitcase, willing myself not to react to his silence.

As I unpacked and put my things away, I felt Kirk’s presence in the doorway, where he lounged against the doorjamb, his dark gaze riveted to my movements, as though measuring and finding them inept.

“So?” he finally broke the silence. “How was your season of prayer?” The sarcasm in his words pierced my heart, but I refused to give in to tears this time.

I turned to face him. “I had a wonderful three days. Thanks for asking.” I resumed returning my toiletries to their bathroom counter niche. I knew Kirk buzzed with anger. Craved a fight.

Takes two to fight, I reminded myself.

“I suppose Johnny’s doing well?”

I didn’t even look at him this time, just kept shuffling things into place. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him since the last day of classes.” I did turn and look him in the eye then.

Kirk’s face turned surly. “So – you’re actually going to turn back into little goody-two-shoes Janeece.”

I didn’t flinch from his sneering gaze. “Call it whatever you want Kirk.” I lowered myself onto the edge of our bed. Then, feeling a sweep of tiredness, stretched out and rested my head on the pillow.

Kirk moved to the window, hands shoved into pockets as he stared unseeing into the trees. “Where do we go from here, Neecy? I’m not happy. You’re not happy.”

No rush of panic. With remarkable calm, I said, “I don’t know. But whatever happens, Kirk, I plan to go with God.”

His instant agitation was palpable. He shuffled his feet, glowered at me, then left the room in a huff, slamming the door behind him. I closed my eyes in relief. At least we didn’t fight.

I went downstairs to pour a cup of coffee and was surprised to find Kirk sitting at the table, cup in hand. I thought he’d driven off somewhere to drown his ire. Instead, he examined the bottom of his cup as though it contained a formula for youth.

“Want yours heated up?” I asked as I poured mine, expecting silence. All I have to do is my part, that’s all.

“Sure,” he mumbled, holding his cup up for me to refill. “Thanks.”

“Kirk,” I said as I took the chair opposite him. “I want to apologize for all I’ve done to hurt you in the past years. I’m sorry I didn’t truly forgive you for being unfaithful. Sorry for the harsh way I responded to you at times when you were kind to me.” I shrugged sadly. “I take my share of the blame for what happened to us next. I regret many things. I can’t undo them, but I can say I’m sorry.”

He still stared into his cup. For long moments he continued to do so. Then, he looked at me. His green gaze was clear. “Neecy, I just want you to know – I plan to go with God, too.”

MawMaw died that week. She’d always said she hoped that when the end came, she would simply go to sleep and wake up on the other side. She got her wish. My entire family attended the funeral in Asheville. Daddy took it as hard as anybody. I suspected he felt that, just when they’d finally made peace, when he’d finally reconnected to her, she was snatched away.

It was downright spooky how much – as he mellowed – Daddy and I thought alike. Toby, now past the gangly stage of youth, resembled Dad more than his sons did. And my son’s disposition was a mother’s dream. Though lively and fun loving, he never seemed to get truly angry. Didn’t seem to have any teen-age axes to grind. Dawn, on the other hand, made up for the two of them.

“I’d swear she sits up nights dreaming up ways to worry me,” I told Trish more than once.

“Aww,” Trish poo-poohed my concerns, “she’s just different. She’ll straighten up one of these days. You’ll see.” I tried to take heart from her positiveness.

From her funky, all black clothes and garish purple nail polish to her offbeat sense of family, Dawn’s desperate disparities grated on me like fingernails against a chalkboard. She and I didn’t speak the same language.

Sometimes, I wondered if there’d been a hospital nursery mix-up. Kirk hated to hear me go on about her escapades. Got to the point that he dismissed my commiserations with, “you two just clash, is all. Too much alike.”

An easy dismissal. But by now, I knew Kirk could only handle so much chaos before he folded.

It had not been a miraculous, instantaneous turnaround in our marriage. But my prayer getaway had been a pivot point. Months later, Kirk still was not warm to me. But I fulfilled my position as his wife and partner. That’s all I had to answer for.

It was still a bit heady, knowing I did not answer to Kirk. Nor he to me. I stood alone under my Maker. My worth was not, nor would it ever be, tied to Kirk’s assessment of me. Nor to anyone else’s. My new spiritual psyche told me when to speak and when not to speak. Mostly, with Kirk, it told me to keep silent.

One day, I forged ahead, not listening to it.

“I miss the old Kirk. The one who teased and flirted and adored me,” I said in one unguarded moment of lightness, thinking I could meander back into those lost times. I watched Kirk’s face grow somber, then dark.

His eyes left the road to light on me. The old dreaded churlish gleam was back. “Would you rather have half a loaf or none at all, Neecy?” he asked in that almost silent way.

Shocked at the still present reality, I averted my gaze to the road ahead, saying nothing else. The soft side of me felt crushed. The other, newer, stronger side said, So what? You’ve had nothing for so long anyway, it doesn’t matter. If he wants to hold back, he’s cheating himself out of lots of fun and joy.

Callie and I got together for lunch one day at the Magnolia Drive-in while Kirk golfed.

“I do a lot of self-talk these days, Cal.” I poured two Sweet’N Lows into my iced tea. “Kirk still holds himself aloof, refusing to contribute anything emotional to our marriage.”

“Oh, come on, Neecy,” Callie cut her chili cheeseburger in two. “Nothing?”

“Zero, Cal. I’m not exaggerating.” I stirred the straw to dissolve the white powder. “Wish I were. Oh, Kirk, as you know, is the best financial supporter in the world. Though I feel more and more like a kept woman th – ”

“Neecy!” Callie cut me a wry look.

“What I mean is – I try not to feel that way, but I know Kirk doesn’t love me and doesn’t really want to do anything for me.” I held up a hand as she inhaled to protest. “And that’s okay. I’m learning to live with it.” I took a bite out of my chili cheeseburger as proof of my resilience.

Callie washed down her bite with a swill of tea. “I know you think that, but Kirk…”

“Cal,” I took her hand and calmly relayed Kirk’s half a loaf comment.

She stared at me, disbelieving. “Half a loaf? Or none? Doesn’t sound like Kirk.” She shook her head and looked away, mumbling under her breath.

“I know. And I don’t want to make Kirk look like a bogeyman. He’s just – Kirk, with limitations just as you and I have.” I half-heartedly munched a french fry.

“Well, I must say, you’re handling all this better than I could.”

“I don’t want to turn you against Kirk. I take my share of blame in all our problems.”

Her dark eyes clouded as she watched me closely. “Don’t let too much of yourself go, Neecy.”

I laughed, surprising her. “You know, Cal, at one time, Kirk played me like a banjo. Now, I don’t react as I once did.” I’d told Callie about my three-day spiritual awakening. “Since my retreat, I’ve learned something invaluable.”

“Oh?” Dark eyebrows lifted over the rim of the Coke glass. “Pride is an illusion. Nobody can make you less than who you are, no matter what they think or say. I’d always, as far back as I can remember, acted as a mirror for what others saw or felt about me. I didn’t go off the deep end with it, though, until Kirk – well, I gave him entirely too much power over me.”

“So, it’s a power struggle?”

“Not for me. It never was, except in the pure survival sense. But with Kirk, it’s different. Why? I don’t know.” I propped my elbows on the table and cupped my face in my hands. “I get so starved for affection sometimes, Cal, I think I’ll die. Had I not experienced that glorious romantic period with Kirk, I wouldn’t know.” I sighed deeply. “I still grieve for the man who loved me so desperately when we moved back here. But I’ve faced up that he’ll never come back. I just pretend he’s dead. Buried. Makes it easier. Helps me keep my sanity.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” Callie murmured, her dark eyes moist.

“Only thing keeps me going is I know there’s an escape hatch.”

Callie gave me a long measuring look. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” I sat back and drew with my finger on the frosted glass. “I promised God I’d stay with Kirk until he rids himself of alcohol. I owe him that. I’ll give my marriage all I’ve got. A hundred-and-ten per cent. Then, if things don’t change, I’m outta here.”