But life has a way of throwing curveballs.
Nan told me yesterday about her new plans. We were sitting on her porch, sipping iced tea. She looked at me with those tired eyes and said, “Sloany, I’ve decided not to go through with the chemo.” I was taken aback, not expecting her to give up so easily. But she continued, “I’d rather be here, present and lucid, for the time we have left. Your grandad andmany of my friends are waiting for me on the other side. I’m looking forward to seeing them again.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, and a lump formed in my throat that’s still there. My favorite person, myonlyperson, is ready to die. The road trip, our dream, is no longer an option. And here I am, back in this shop, following the same old routine, day in and day out. Trying to make enough money to support both of us for the time she has left.
I glance over at Simon, who is talking to a customer. He’s not much taller than me, with blond hair and kind brown eyes. He’s charming and just someone everybody likes. His smile is infectious.
As if he felt my eyes on him, he looks over at me, and I avert my gaze.
The other good thing in my life that went to shit recently.
We’ve had a thing going for almost a year. Simon is everything I could ask for—kind, funny, and, yes, amazing in bed. But I’ve built a wall around myself, a barrier that keeps him at arm’s length. I was terrified of letting him see the real me, the weirdness that lurks beneath the surface. I knew he’d run for the hills if he found out about my gift.
And, oh, did he run.
Every weekend, like clockwork, Simon asked me out on a date. It was obvious he was in love with me and wanted to date me officially, breaking out of our late-night booty calls that always ended with me going back home to sleep. And every weekend, I said no to going out together. I couldn’t deny my feelings for him, but I was scared of getting too close.
Last weekend, he surprised me with tickets to a car show. Normally, I would have avoided such a thing, not wanting to encounter a ghost amidst a crowd. But I had really wanted to see that show, and he had already bought the tickets, so we went.
Simon had gotten up from our seats on the bleachers, saying he would grab us some drinks. I nodded, lost in thought, admiring a particularly stunning vintage car slowly driving past. But the familiar chill down my neck pulled me out of my trance. Turning my head to where Simon had just been sitting, I came face to face with a ghost.
“Help me,” he had pleaded, his voice echoing in my ears. He was maybe in his late twenties, looking dirty and roughed up. He had a tire print on his blue overalls, and I cringed a little. It was as if he had been run over.
I tried to keep my composure, whispering fiercely, “I can’t help you now. Leave me alone. Please.”
“I lost my wife. Please, can you help me find her?” He looked around frantically, but his clothes looked like the ones mechanics wore in the sixties. I was sure his wife was no longer in this stadium, searching for him.
I needed him to leave me alone before someone noticed. I would have come back and helped him when the people were gone, but right then, I needed him to leave me the fuck alone.
I tried to ignore him, but he became more insistent. My frustration mounted, and I snapped, “I can’t help you! Go away! Leave me alone!”
It was then that I realized my fuckup. The people on the bleacher behind me had gone silent, and I felt the weight of multiple stares on me. I glanced around, mortified to see people whispering among themselves. And then there was Simon, drinks in hand, standing beside his seat with a look of confusion and concern.
He sat down, but his warmth from before was gone. The rest of the show was a blur, the excitement replaced by a heavy cloud of embarrassment and regret.
The drive home was silent. The tension in the car was palpable. When we reached my place, Simon stopped the car,not asking if I’d prefer to go home with him. And without a word, I got out.
I watched as he drove away and what we had. It seemed it was over.
Now, I only steal glances at him when I think he isn’t looking, mourning not only him but the possibility of what we could have had.
When I wasn’t that weird and could be what he wanted.
When he wouldn’t have run and broken my heart.
Turning to my side,I try to fall back asleep, even though the dream from my life before the institution was anything but pleasant. But anything is better than reality right now.
Because the reality is, I’m on my own.
I don’t have anybody, and it physically hurts.
“I need you, Nan. I don’t know what to do,” I whisper into the empty space, but like every other time I’ve begged her to come and tell me what to do, nothing happens.
So alone.
I knew the Jones men would drop me the second they found out, but I didn’t think it would be that vicious or hurt that bad.
Correction, I knew it would hurt.
