I check the app to see someone’s picked up the riderequest. Now is the time. I take my phone and reset to the factory setting so it’s blank, and I leave it on the counter. I don’t need him to track it. I can get a new phone later on. I go upstairs, I open the window and walk carefully onto the roof where I grab the top of the trestle, slowly shimmying my way down it, ignoring the pain. Then I search for my bag.
It’s not... what?! Where the hell is it?
Did he find it?
I look around. Where the hell did it go? Thankfully it’s just clothes, and my money’s inside my shirt that’s tucked into my jeans and my bullet journal is in my hand. Fuck, I need to go. I’ll figure it out later. I can replace the clothing. My arms shake as I scale our wooden fence and drop into Mrs. Windsor’s yard, falling to my hands and knees. I bite back the yelp that bubbles in my throat. “Come on,” I breathe. “Get up.” I have to keep pushing. I stumble upright, taking a deep breath and ignoring the cold wash of nausea.
I make my way between a couple more houses until I break out onto the road with the park. The rideshare said ten minutes. I have the license plate written down. Anxiety webs through my lungs.
Relief hits me when I see the make and model of the requested ride idling next to the park. I look at my sticky note, making sure the license plate matches, then jog up to slip inside. “How are you doing?”
“Uh, great. Thank you.” I buckle up and let out a breath as we go.
“Whipped, is that correct?” he asks.
“Uh yes, it’s a coffee house.” It’s less than an hour. I wish I’d found a job further away, but at least I’ll have somewhere to live.
“It’s about forty minutes from here.”
“I know. I um... I have cash.” I’ll have to get a bankaccount soon. One thing at a time, though. I pull out a hundred dollars, hoping he doesn’t ask me any questions.
He looks down at the money before driving toward the highway access. “You got it.”
THREE
Grey
I hate mornings the most.
It’s like all the pain inside my body settles like a lead weight overnight. I don’t sleep well anymore to start with. I used to love going to sleep. It’s weird maybe, but I loved the routine of getting ready for bed. After whatever busy day or schedule, it was just me and my thoughts.
I’d settle in bed, and sometimes... sometimes I’d think about what it would be like to go to sleep with my person. I’d dream of this mystery guy and feel like he was just waiting for me to find him. After my last ex, though, I told myself I wouldn’t date anymore until I retired.
Now it’s hard to get comfortable, let alone fall asleep. I’m in so much pain by the end of the day. I knew I’d be sore for a while after my surgery, but no one tells you how mentally and physically draining it is living with constant pain. It’s never-ending. It takes forever for my body to get tired enough to even fall asleep, then I wake up throughout the night indifferent stages of discomfort. And then I do it all over again the next day. I don’t look forward to any of it.
Not that I even look forward to much at all anymore.
For a minute I lie there blinking up at the ceiling, and the more time that passes between myself and yesterday, I just feel worse and worse. Alyssa doesn’t deserve the stress I’m putting her under, I know that. She has her own life. She doesn’t need to worry about me. I’m the one struggling with her moving out. That’s not her fault, and I’m not her problem.
Then there’s Atlas. I know I fucked up. I love him, don’t get me wrong, but Atlas just doesn’t get this. I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to hear his optimism.
With the speed and agility of a fucking sloth, I get up. Every nerve ending shocks the breath from my lungs. I’m so damn stiff. My knees are tight. How am I still in this much pain months after surgery?
You’ve been knocked around for the last ten years, dumbass.
With my grip firmly on my end table so I don’t slip and bust my eye on it—yes that’s happened and yeah, it’s about as much fun as it sounds—I slowly swing my good, or goodish, leg over. Then I drag the other. Just bending it sends a piercing pain through me.
I’ve had enough. I can barely even move. I’m usually a very active guy. I love to hike and fish, I love to work with my hands and build things. Just last year I built Lianna a small playhouse for their new home. It’s baby blue with dark-purple shutters. She picked the colors. Inside she has a little kitchen table, and it’s set up so she can watch her cartoons on her tablet.
My home is surrounded by woods. You can walk down through the trees to a small pond, and with spring coming my way I want to get out there. I want my life back.
Time to mend some broken fences, I guess.
I text Alyssa and tell her I’m sorry about yesterday, then I find Atlas’s contact. My thumb hovers over the message button, but I decide to let that go for now.He’s probably at practice right now anyway.
I have it in mind to go to the game this weekend. They’re having a Pride night, and I’m so proud of Oli. I’m not surprised he put it together. Oli’s always been the type of person who gives his all, it’s what makes him an amazing captain. I wouldn’t like the responsibility, but Oli was built for it. He’s a natural leader.
I miss my friends, and hiding the truth from them is starting to bottleneck. I’ll tell them, but not today. Probably not even this week. It’s about twenty minutes before I get a response from Alyssa. I’m still sitting on the edge of my bed, mentally preparing myself to move, and I grab my phone as it vibrates.
