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9
Memory Lane
Sometimes I feellike a child still under her parents’ thumb. Still being controlled. Still scared to sneak back in the house after curfew.
That was me last night.
After leaving the Tavern, shaken by seeing Jones and certain that Wyatt had been behind me at one point, I walked around, reliving a part of my childhood. Memories, good and bad, rushed over me.
My first kiss was behind the ice cream shop while my then-crush was on break from his summer job.
He got fired a few days later when they caught him out back kissing another girl. He wasn’t on break that time.
My first date was at the Raven Theater. We had to watch a PG-13 movie because my parents insisted on buying our tickets. Little did they know we snuck out of the Disney flick and into the Stephen King thriller playing across the hall. That movie scared the life out of me but was a great reason to hold Brian’s hand.
He was a nice guy. It didn’t last more than a few dates, but we remained friends. It makes me wonder what he’s up to these days.
When I left Fairview, I left everyone behind. Not just Wyatt. I left my family, my friends, and everyone I loved. The life I knew was no longer my reality. I was forced to make a new normal for myself. A normal that could only include Lola and Carmen.
Sure, I could have started over like most college freshman. I could have made a bunch of new friends, reinvented myself over and over again, but none of that mattered to me. The only thing I was concerned with was the wellbeing of my daughter. Once she came, she was my world.
So I made one friend. One person that could be my rock. One person who I told the truth to about my situation.
Addy.
Addison Larsen was number four. When my parents left me in Denver, alone in that huge apartment with no one to talk to, I swore to myself that I would tell one person, not to piss them off, although that gave the idea bonus points. I needed someone to talk to, someone to listen to me, and someone to hold me when I cried.
Most importantly, I needed someone who I knew was on my side.
Addy knocked on my door that first night. She brought pizza and beer as a way of welcoming me to the building. Me, being the emotional wreck I was quickly becoming, started to cry before she even introduced herself.
Let’s just say I made a lasting first impression.
Addy is older, and dare I say wiser, than me. Five years older to be exact. She had just moved into the building as well. New to Denver, she was looking for a friend but instead, she found herself sitting on the floor of my apartment, crying over her beer as I told her my life story.
We’ve been practically inseparable since that first night. She was in the delivery room when I gave birth to Lola. Helps out anytime I need her and is the best friend a girl could ask for. Lola loves her as much as I do and calls her Aunt Addy.
When I told her I was coming home for the first time, she offered to come with me. I entertained the idea for a few days before mustering the confidence to decline. She has big things going on at work and as much as I would enjoy her company, I didn’t want her to feel like she needed to babysit me.
As the morning light breaks over the meadow, I reach for my cell phone and send her a text. She called me last night while I was wandering down memory lane and I sent her to voice mail, something I’ve only done one other time. I’m sure she’s worried.
ME: You awake yet?
Before I even have time to pull a clean tank top over my head, my phone vibrates on the bed.
ADDY: Sure am. You ready to talk?
ME: Call you in five.
Lacing up my shoes, I sprint down the front stairs and out the door before anyone knows I’m awake. I take off down the road at a steady pace. Once my breathing settles, I dial Addy’s number.
“Hey,” she says, breathing heavily.
Our morning routine. She hates running outside and I hate running on a treadmill. We compromise by talking while we run separately.
“Hey. How are you?” I ask.
“Fine. The real question is, how are you? You didn’t answer when I called last night.”
