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Making a very unwise decision—because knowing Mom, she could be home right now trying to trick me—I detour from the path to home. A few minutes into walking, I come across this gorgeous meadow. Gazing across the field, I see a small stream and several different types of flowers. I think there are sunflowers, mountain mint, and honeysuckle, and I even see some daisies in the back.
As I take in this peace, this serenity, it’s like nothing can taint this little area of perfection. I touch my hands to each flower I pass, grasping the warmth on my fingertips while walking to the stream in the back so I can stick my toes in.
The water is freezing, and I screech and immediately tense up, putting my hands in front of my face, afraid of the backlash.
When nothing comes, I pull my arms back, and that’s when I remember that I’m not at home or school. I’m alone.
I look up to the sky and smile, and then it starts raining. It’s like the sky is weeping for me, because I’m happy.
I want to stay until nightfall, but with my clothes being soaked and the rain seeming like it isn’t going to stop, I head home.
* * *
Sometimes I stop at my meadow and just lie in the grass to feel something,anything.I take the time to breathe in the fresh air around the trees and the flowers that I lie near. The meadow is where I learned that the scent after a rainstorm is my favorite smell. It smells like a new beginning. Like the slate was wiped clean. It’s become a much-needed escape from reality.
Mostly, on my walks home, I contemplate what I’m going to do after graduation. What would have happened if my dad had stuck around. And sometimes, on rare occasions, I sing to myself during this little bit of time. I don’t do it often, but when I see nothing coming, I sing little lullabies that Dad used to sing to me before he left.
But today? Today, my mind wanders to those boys from school. Those gorgeous boys that I can’t be thinking about. Thinking about them makes me shudder.
Luca’s eyes were extremely haunting to me, but not in a creepy way. I have this feeling that he is similar to me, but I don’t understand how I know this.
Mateo’s dimple. I know liking a dimple is weird but on him, it’s so adorable. I just want to poke it.
Oh, and the twins! What were their names again?
Kade and Atlas! I haven’t noticed the differences between the two yet, but I love their long hair. I watched them put it up today into man-buns, and it looked good.
Lost in my thoughts and kicking up gravel, I don’t realize how close I am to home until it’s too late. I see her before I hear her and I internally cringe, preparing myself for whatever she is about to do or say.
“What the fuck are you doing home so late?! Your ass should have been home over thirty minutes ago! Get your fucking ass in there and clean the fucking house, or you don’t get to eat tonight! Make sure you do it right this time!”
I walk past Mom into the house and take my stuff into my shell of a room. I have the bare necessities: a rickety bed and a dresser with minimal clothes that are starting to break down with holes in them. I’m going to have to start scrounging around for change to go to the thrift store for clothes again, or I’m not going to have anything to wear to school.
I have to go shopping for groceries and household supplies, as I noticed we were getting low yesterday.
I head downstairs to do the dishes that have been piling up during the day. After the dishes, I go in search of any liquor bottles. Can’t have them lying around. Mom needs to have a clean house.
It’s something that I never understood. She makes a mess, but wants the house to be clean. While looking for bottles, I pick up her laundry, since she refuses to do that either. She needs clean clothes for the few days she makes it to work.
As I’m separating the laundry, again, my mind wanders to those guys. The what ifs.
What if things were different?
What if I hadn’t done what I did when I was younger?
What if, instead of blaming me, everyone believed me and blamed him? Punished him?
I wonder if I would be a different person now and if I would have the courage to go up to them and talk to them. To be okay with being seen around them or even close to them. Or would I still be the shy, quiet girl who avoids conflict and confrontation?
I finish up the laundry, stop pondering the what-ifs, and head upstairs to finish the rest of the chores.
As I finish cleaning the house, she yells to go cook dinner. Sighing to myself, I walk into the kitchen and make a mental note of all the groceries we need. Taking out some paper, I scribble a note that I’ll need to go to the grocery store tomorrow after school, so she knows not to expect me home immediately and to leave me money.
I move around the kitchen and grab all the things I need for spaghetti. I only know how to make a few decent things. Spaghetti, macaroni and cheese, grilled cheese…all the simple foods. Smart, I am. Chef, I am not.
As I put the water on the burner to boil, I turn the oven on to preheat for the garlic bread. I start prepping the hamburger to cook. The hardest part for me is getting the timing right so everything is done at the same time. After the oven beeps at me that it’s done preheating, I throw the bread in the oven, follow the instructions, throw the meat on the stovetop, and turn the heat up on the water so it comes to a boil.
Of course, the meat finishes first, then the noodles, and then the bread is last. I add the jar of sauce to the meat and let it simmer a little before I get Mother a plate ready, set it at the table, and head to find her. She is in the living room watching TV. She looks up at me after a few moments and I mouth “dinner,” since I never talk at home.
