Page 60 of Alone

IknowthatI’malready really down and unable to control my thoughts. So, what better way to wallow in self pity than to walk around my old town and stare at the houses that no longer belong to myself or my best friend.

The wind is whipping a little bit tonight and I’m not really sure what to do with myself. I sat around the house until five o’clock this morning and nobody even came home. They’re either avoiding me, and doing a damn good job of it, or they all found an escort to take them home and give them a little something to take the edge off.

Or all of the above.

“Ugh,” I groan, kicking a stone beneath my shoe as I enter my little neighborhood down the street. All the lights are off. It’s a Sunday morning and I know everyone is still tucked away in their warm blankets with their loved ones beside them.

Oddly enough, I’m starting to miss Nick, regardless of the fighting and the absence. I miss my kids, despite the arguing and the sass that I got from them.

I miss my old life. My life that was filled with a not-so-messy-house compared to the one I live in now. The one that was right down the street from my best friend who would do anything for me. The one that was filled with a chaotic family who loved each other no matter what.

The one I belong in.

After an hour of moseying down the road and sitting on the curb every few steps, I close in on my street and notice there is a light on in one of the houses.

My old house.

That old bat is awake at this hour. Which means, I won’t be able to stare at my old house and pretend I’m back inside it, standing at my kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in my hands. Probably one that I had to reheat twice because I forgot about it.

“It’s still a little dark out here,” I whisper to myself. “She won’t see me. I’ll be fine.”

I sneak over to the sidewalk next to her mailbox and sit down on the curb. Being this close to my home does give me an odd sense of relief. The exact thing I needed right now.

I take a few deep breaths and close my eyes. A small smile creeps onto my face as I think back on the holidays with my family. Nick and I in our matching pajamas with our giant matching bear feet slippers.

As my mind courses through the ripping open of presents and the pouring of the fourth cup of coffee on Christmas morning, I hear a noise behind me.

“You little…” the old woman grunts. “Haven’t I told you enough to get out of here?”

She is trying to yell at me, but for some reason doing it quietly. It’s not like the neighborhood is going to discipline her if she’s too loud.

“It’s a public sidewalk,” I counter softly. “And my ass is fine right where it’s at.”

I cross my arms in front of my chest like a scolded toddler and plant my feet even harder onto the street.

“I warned you,” the old woman says.

I look over my shoulder, glaring at her, and notice the flour-covered apron she’s wearing. She’s obviously been up for a while.

“You really do have all the time in the world, don’t you?” I say, laughing so I don’t cry. “Sauntering down your hallway into your kitchen and staring out the window that looks onto your front lawn. Making sure people don’t come onto your property and look at your grass for too long?” I hear my voice rising with each word that leaves my mouth.

The woman’s eyes go wide. “Stop looking inside my house, you little creep!” she shouts. “I’ll have you arrested!”

“You think I’m a creep for knowing everything about that fucking house?!” I shriek, my eyes falling to nothing more than a slit “For knowing that the laundry room has a hole in the wall that was covered with plywood and painted over, but you can still see the outline of it?! For knowing that the basement is set up wrong, with the hot water heater in the living area instead of the grungy spot under the stairs?!”

My chest is rising and falling with my rapid breathing and I feel the sting of tears threatening to spill over again.

“Bitch, I know every inch of that house!” I yell, still not done proving my point.

“Don’t you ‘bitch’ me, you little bitch!” the old woman yells.

For some reason, this makes me start laughing through the tears that I can’t seem to hold back anymore. But the laughter only lasts for a short moment until I crumble into a ball and sob.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I say as the snot begins to run down toward my lip. “I hate this life. I hate what I’ve done. I hate what I’ve wished for. I want my family back. I want my life back.”

“Listen,” the woman says with her hands up like I need to slow down. “I don’t know what your issue is or why you’re so linked to my home, but you really should go now.” Her voice is slow and steady. A far cry from the bickering old typhoon that came at me once she noticed I was here.

“But I have nowhere to go now,” I say, lifting my head from between my knees and looking at her. My eyes are puffy, my nose is running, and my cheeks are soaked with emotion. “I fucked everything up. I have nothing. Nowhere else to go.” My last sentence comes out as a mere whisper when the reality sinks in.

---