How high, Amelia?
That’s how our relationship worked. Or at least that’s what he was told.
He believed it. He felt that to be true. He had an epiphany. The clouds parted and he saw the twinkle lights Emily placed around the pergola. This epiphany released him from guilt. It wasn’t his fault because Amelia wasn’t a good slave. Hallelujah, there’s the answer. Amelia is the reason we are shipwrecked. Amelia twisted him around her little finger, that’s why he couldn’t be the captain of his ship.
He wrote to me and said I’ve tried to accomodate you and I enabled you. You gave into your ego instead of talking. You weren’t honest, communicative and transparent.
If that’s accomodation, let me check out. There was no time to communicate. We were in constant danger and I was in constant stress mode.
I was there through all of it. I didn’t come and go as I pleased. Through the good and the bad, I stuck around. I was standing there beside him, not behind him because it was too scary behind him. I was blindsided too many times by flying objects and yes, every now and then I had to yank the wheel violently to the side to avoid a collision. But I was on the boat. That rocking leaking unstable boat. Where the fuck were you Emily? Getting a manicure? And now you whisper in his ear, turn it all around on me and make me feel bad for it. Oh, your good. But I’m better.
I was in this relationship when he was anxious, wrong, worried, stressed, over worked, underslept. I woke up to it every morning and went to bed with it every evening. I’m not the one who wrapped him around my finger. That was you sweet Emily. Little tiny cute soft spoken, Emily.
“I can’t today, I’ve had a hard life.” Yeah, you’re singing to the choir. We’ve all had a hard life. Toughen up, princess. Stick to what you agreed to one time, it’s life changing.
I have never asked that man to jump. I only asked that he do what he said he would do. I asked that he be the dominant. That he take control of the wheel. That he keep us off the rocks. That he not be reckless.
There was no consistency and he didn’t have stabilizers on his boat. It rocked from side to side and while I don’t get sea sick, I would have liked the calm he promised. He would add and subtract elements on a whim and a prayer and our navigator was a magic eight ball.
When he wasn’t in control, was I suppose to let myself to tossed onto the rocks? Would that have made me a better slave? A better submissive. When I saw we here heading for danger was I suppose to say in my sweet voice, yes Master, of course I trust you when you’re heading towards that lighthouse and you’re not the the best sailor in the bay.
Because I put my hand out to steer us from danger in our rudderless boat, I am to blame and he believed her.
There is no one I need to make amends to. I did nothing wrong. I stayed until it crashed. I’m wearing the injuries from that crash.