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Michael cleared his throat. “You can always come back to my place, you know. Crash on our sofa. My parents wouldn't mind.”
I nodded. “You lucked out with them, you know.”
“I know. A lot of kids who are adopted end up in terrible situations. I came out lucky.”
“Don’t ever take that for granted.”
He shook his head. “I don’t. And I won’t. I promise.”
“Thanks for driving me home.”
“The offer still stands if you don’t want to be here.”
“I know. I just want to be alone right now, though. I’m sure I can avoid them when I walk inside.”
“Well, if you can’t, I’ll stay parked out here for a little bit. If you get to your window and wave me off, I’ll leave. If you don’t, I’ll assume you’re coming back out with your things.”
I smiled softly. “Sounds like a plan.”
I finally got my hand to move to the door handle. I shoved it open, then reached for my purse. I let myself out of his car, clutching my purse close to me. Trying to root myself in anything akin to reality. It felt like the world was spinning. Like I was floating up to the darkened heavens. None of this felt real. And yet, I knew it was real.
This torture was real.
The sirens grew, coating the neighborhood with their sounds as dogs began barking. Cats began meowing. The whole of the dirt of our side of the fence slowly woke up. People flicked on their lights. Others cursed at the animals to shut the hell up. I closed Michael’s car door and made my way to the porch, fishing my keys out of my purse.
Please don’t be downstairs. Please don’t be downstairs. Please don’t be downstairs.
I took one last peek back at Michael before shoving my key into the door. I unlocked it as silently as I could, then eased the door open. I didn't hear the television going. I didn’t see any lights on. And as I slipped inside, I breathed a sigh of relief.
No one was downstairs.
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. Heavily. I wanted to sit down and cry. But, I couldn't. Our foyer was like a fucking acoustical stereo. If there was any part of the house that required my silence, it was here. I locked the door softly, wincing as the sound of the latch echoed off the damn corners of the walls. I paused, holding my breath. Waiting for the hallway light to click on before D.J. yelled down the damn stairs at me.
But no sounds came.
I tiptoed into the kitchen. I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. It took a couple minutes of rummaging around to find a decent-enough snack. But, after finding an unopened bag of chips, I headed up stairs. I skipped the ones I knew creaked. The ones I knew might wake my mother up. And as I made my way down the hallway, I heard soft panting. Soft groaning. Soft, murmured curses coming from my mother’s bedroom.
For fuck’s sake.
I rushed the rest of the way to my room. I closed my door silently and locked it. I reached for my headphones and slipped them over my head, plugging the port into my phone. I turned on some music to block out the sounds. I walked over to my bedroom window and waved down at Michael. He flashed his lights before backing out of the driveway, and I stood there. Watching him leave.
With tears brewing behind my eyes again.
I had to take my headphones off in order to shed my wet clothes. I piled them onto the floor, racing the steady sounds of my fucking mother in the room next to me. I stripped myself bare, shivering as I walked over to my dresser. And as I pulled out a long shirt, the sounds grew. Morphing and growing, as if I weren’t here.
Then again, they didn’t know I was here.
It made me sick to my stomach to listen to. Then again, I should’ve been used to it. I ripped the shirt down against my body before quickly putting my headphones on again. I fell onto my bed and reached for the chips. I eased them open, careful not to disturb the disgusting party going on next door to my room. I snuggled underneath the covers and cracked open my water, chugging it back as I grabbed my remote.
I turned on my box television before immediately muting it.
I listened to music and watched the silent images of Golden Girls flash by. Mom and I didn’t have cable. We each had cheap antennas on our televisions. But that was it. The nice one that D.J. purchased her was downstairs for movie nights. And the box television we’d had down there made it into my room as a ‘gift.’ I mean, don’t get me wrong. I was grateful for it. But, knowing this television had made its way into my room because of D.J. never did sit right with me. Almost made me feel dirty every time I used the damn thing.
But I needed the distraction tonight.
I munched on chips and sipped my water. I watched the images on the television aimlessly as one song poured into another. Rock anthems. Rap songs. A few random musical numbers I’d come to enjoy. I mindlessly ate until the entire bag was gone, even though I knew damn good and well I’d hear about it tomorrow. I rolled my eyes and licked at my fingers. I tossed the empty chip bag into the small trash can beside my bed. I finished my water and threw that away, too. Then, I took a chance and eased my headphones off my head.
Only to be met with louder, more fervent sounds.
