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Without missing a beat, I throw the skimpy outfit to the floor and grab the sweats I had on earlier to cover myself up. I need to return to the feeling of being comfortable enough to be seen in public.
“Goodbye bedroom,” I say to the pictures on the dresser as I tug a t-shirt over my head. “I’m going home.”
I grab the cab cash that was left on the table and look up the phone number for a local taxi. When I hang up the call, I’m immediately on edge.
I’m not ready for this upcoming fight with Nick. Disappearing and leaving him with the kids overnight, especially after the fight we had about me wanting to leave.
“Breathe, Dee.” I shake my arms and legs like I’m heading into an MMA fighting ring. “It’ll all be fine. Nick will just have to get over it. You didn’t run away. It’s all fine.”
I take a few steps around the kitchen and notice the absolute mess that I’m standing in. Dishes in the sink and on the counter. Clothes scattered all over the place. Picture frames hanging crooked on the walls.
“I have to get out of here,” I whisper to myself. I pace up and down the hallway, checking the window every so often to see if the cab came early. My eyes glance at the four doors, one for each of the women that stood in the living room this morning; including myself.
“Deep breath in,” I coach myself as I place one foot in front of the other. “Deeeeep breath out.” I sigh and continue my self-made breathing exercises.
Five minutes later, I’m sliding onto the squishy back seat of Fran’s Cab Service. Despite the scent of stale cigarettes, I feel a sense of relief wash over me when I give the driver my home address.
Taking one look out the back window, I bid a silent farewell to the madhouse that I woke up in.
I sit and watch the trees fly by the window and it makes me think of Spencer in his little carseat. I’m silent while the driver weaves down the street and I take a moment to look at the neighborhood. It’s nicer than I remember. But I suppose sitting in a run down house with a group of strippers will make you appreciate things a little more.
I sigh and put a hand on my chest as my house comes into view. But as we get closer, I notice our mailbox looks different and my garden gnomes that I had out front are missing.
I’m guessing Nick couldn’t sleep while I was gone and did some random tasks around the house, but I don’t understand what he had against my gnomes.
I hand the driver the money and step onto the sidewalk, waving him off and walking into my yard. There is trash everywhere. What the hell is going on? Did Nick throw a party when he realized I wasn’t home? I sure as shit didn’t leave the house like this.
I go to open the door, but it’s locked. Nick’s car isn’t in the driveway, but there’s a silver SUV that I don’t recognize.
I wonder if that’s the woman that answered his phone.
I knock on the door with a tight fist and wait for Nick to answer. He doesn’t. An older woman answers the door and looks at me like I’m a rabid dog.
“What do you want?” she barks. She doesn’t unchain the door as she talks to me.
“Who the hell are you?” I ask, taking a step back.
“Excuse me?” the old woman asks, her gray eyes growing wide in shock. “You’re on my property, missy. I suggest you leave before I have you arrested for trespassing.”
“This is my house!” I shout. “Get out of my house!”
The woman closes the door, so I knock again, harder than the last time. She opens the door again, but this time she has a broom in her hands.
When the door is fully open and she takes a step outside, my eyes catch a glimpse of the foyer of my house.
It’s pink. Pink flowery wallpaper covers my gorgeous white walls. What has this woman done? There are gold framed mirrors hanging on the wall similar to the ones my grandmother always had in her house. An unfamiliar smell of the inside wafts out and tickles my nose as the old woman rushes at me with the broom.
“Get off my property!” she shouts at me, swinging the broom at my legs to get me off the porch.
My heart aches at the confusion. Why is this woman in my house?
She chases me down the sidewalk and stands on guard until I take a few more steps away into the middle of the street. I see her mailbox again. CARBAUGH is painted in big bold letters across the side. The paint that was used appears to be chipping, like the name has been there for as long as I’ve been alive.
What is happening?
I take one last look at the crazy old bat that just chased me away from my home and watch her nod with satisfaction before she walks up and latches my front door with her tucked way on the other side.
I can’t go inside my own house. My one safe place that I could always use to hide from anything and anyone.
