Come to the Edge

The signs were all there. A foolish grin on his face, a slight unsteadiness in his walk, a hint of a slur to his words. He would adamantly deny it, of course, he always did unless I caught him in the act. And I wouldn't pursue it because it would take too much effort. I was coming to realize that I didn't much care anymore.
Sober, he was angry, bitter, resentful and sullen. Drunk, he became sloppy, childish, petulant and silly. He reached for me and I sidestepped. He reached again and I slapped his hands away, already impatient to escape another nightmare evening. I reached the stairs and he lurched and grabbed my ankle. I kicked and caught him just under the chin, sending him sprawling against the wall. Before he could get up again, I was up the stairs and had locked the bedroom door against him. He was shouting, a mixture of curses and threats, and as he fumbled his way to the second floor, I reluctantly picked up the telephone and called 911.

The wood splintered the first time he hit the door and the lock gave way on the second. The man I had loved so dearly stood facing me, breathing heavily, his face twisted in rage but still unsteady on his feet. When he came at me I ducked and ran past him, heading for the stairs and the front door. He followed but he was clumsy and slow from the alcohol and when he began throwing things, his aim was off. Once downstairs, I checked quickly that the cats were out of harm's way, then opened the front door and ran. The police cruiser was pulling up as the door slammed behind me.

Do you want us to take him? the officer asked. The words were wickedly direct and simple but surprisingly less painful than I had imagined. I thought of the shattered door, the shouted threats, and all the past nights that had started just this way. I thought of him holding one of the cats in one hand and a knife in another and that memory more than any other was the deciding factor. Yes, I said standing straight, I do. And just like that, the man I had married was arrested, handcuffed, and taken away. That which I had feared and dreaded for so long had finally come to pass and like so many other things in life, the fear and dread had been much more awful than the actual happening.

I think there is, in each of us, a core of strength, a reserve made up of equal parts will, courage and resolve. We access it in the direst of moments - to protect those we truly love, to try and save a life, to keep out the insanity. It's almost primal in nature, an emotional and spiritual survival instinct that we don't even know is there until we need it. Against all odds, it lets us do the impossible.

"Come to the edge." "We can't. We're afraid." "Come to the edge." "We can't. We'll fall." "Come to the edge."
And they came. And he pushed them. And they flew. - Guilluame Apollinaire