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She wraps me in a tight squeeze that I hesitantly return. Her hands rub up and down my back in a motion that makes nostalgia rise within me. Jessica was my mom’s best friend growing up and that friendship continued until the day my mom died. For the second time in less than an hour I’m blinking away tears and leaning into someone else’s mom.
“You look so much like her, you know.” She releases me and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. “I hate that so much has gone down between you and West. That you grew apart over the years.”
“Well, I don’t think he shares that sentiment.” And nor do I, for that matter.
“I wouldn’t be so sure. I was helping him pack some things up in his room last week and found a picture of the two of you on one of our camping trips. You must have been nine or ten, all long limbs and gap-toothed smiles.”
My heart squeezes, bittersweet feelings fighting for freedom inside me.
“He snatched it away so quickly, and while he wanted me to think it didn’t mean anything, he tucked it safely back in his nightstand. He misses you.”
I miss him, too, if I’m honest. In my darkest, loneliest moments, I wonder what it would be like if we hadn’t had a falling out. In some gross way, I enjoy the constant torment from him and his friends, at least I’m still on his radar. Sometimes I think it’s better than being ignored.
“He probably uses it for target practice,” I quip.
“Doubtful.” She smiles knowingly at me. “Anyway, I didn’t come over here to talk about West. I found a box in my garage with some of your mother’s things. Do you want to come grab it from my car?”
“Yes, absolutely.” I have so little of her, I’m desperate for any morsel I can find.
Jessica leads me over to her car and pops the trunk. Inside is a plastic tote with some yellowed photo albums and a small cedar box. I grunt under the weight of the tote as I lift it into my arms; it’s deceptively heavy.
“Got it?” she asks. “I can grab West and have him carry it.”
“No, thanks.” I shift my hold on the handles. “I’ve got it. I just wasn’t expecting it to be so heavy.”
“I know, I think it’s the cedar box. It’s locked and I didn’t see a key anywhere.”
“Oh, I’ll look around and see if I find anything. Thank you.”
“Of course, sweetie. I’m always here if you need anything.”
“I know.” I duck my head in acknowledgment and turn on my heel back toward my car.
The drive home feels heavier than usual. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a good idea of where my life is going, or it’s the thought of losing the last ties to my parents I have. It never felt like home, living with my uncle. The relief of walking into a space where I felt safe or wanted evaporated the day I found out my parents had died.
John’s truck isn’t parked in the driveway of the rundown trailer we share. Unlike the pangs of longing I felt earlier with Rosie’s parents and Jessica, I feel nothing but relief knowing he’s not here. The scent of stale marijuana assaults my nose as soon as I open the door, but blessed silence is all I hear.
I’ve done my best to keep everything clean in the cramped space, but beer bottles and ash trays litter the living room. Moving to the kitchen, I open the fridge to see if there’s anything suitable for dinner, but it’s bare aside from condiments and alcohol. I find a cup of noodles in the cabinet and decide that’s better than a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
While the noodles cook in the microwave, I grab a container of disinfectant wipes and clean the crumbs off the counter from whatever John made himself before going out. If I’m lucky, he’ll stay out all night and I can just catch an early night’s sleep.
* * *
I wake at some point in the night as a shadow moves from my bedroom door to my closet. Panic sets in when a foul smelling cloth covers my mouth and nose, sending my blood racing through my veins. Strong, large arms wrap around my shoulders, pulling me against a firm chest as I struggle against their hold. Muffled movement comes from the corner and a familiar voice whispers that it’s okay and to relax. I don’t even get a good look around my room before a dark wave crashes over me.
* * *
Bright light filters through my eyelids when I wake up the second time. Birds are chirping as I roll to my side on the hard ground. I blink a few times to clear the blinding light and look around, wholly confused as to why I’m outside.
How did I get here?The last thing I remember was washing my face and laying down for bed. I watched a few baking shows on YouTube in bed. I don’t even remember closing my computer.
Then it all comes back to me in bits and pieces. The fear of someone being in my bedroom. A large hand holding a cloth soaked in something over my mouth and nose. I look down, somewhat reassured when I see I’m wearing more clothes than I went to bed in last night. A pair of athletic leggings and a hoodie covers me, where I was only in a tank top and panties when I went to bed.
Fucking gross.
Someone saw me nearly naked while I slept, but it doesn’t feel like I was physically touched. I fight off the bile that tries to rise at the violation. When I sit all the way up on my knees, I notice a new backpack and that I’m wearing my hiking boots.
What the fuck?
