The sense of loss is so great, my body goes numb.
I glance up. My reflection stares back in a mirror. I’m high. Red eyes, slack jaw, dry mouth, and my movements and thoughts are undeniably slowed.
Can’t call the cops. I don’t know exactly where Noel is. I left Tommy alone with a minor. And I’m high. They’ll take them both from me. I’m just their guardian.
“Can I sleep in your bed?” asks Tommy.
I turn to him and nod.
He looks relieved. I bite down. Now I have to worry about what this trauma did to him and how to deal with it.
I rub my face hard, but I don’t wake from this nightmare.
Sunday.
Day of rest.
Day of continued hell.
Because I wake up with Tommy’s foot pressed painfully against my spine.
Worse, I check, but Noel still isn’t home.
I spend the morning cleaning up the kitchen so I can make breakfast. It’s a pain in the ass. So much stuff. Stuff mom left behind. Kitchen gadgets I’ll never use but can’t throw away. I need her right now. My dad would be helpful, too, especially with Noel.
After making pancakes, I check my phone.
dumb girl:heyyyyy will I see u in church today??
Fuck, no. Where the hell is that coming from?
Ignore it.
A few hours later, I finish cleaning up the bathrooms and bedrooms. Even Noel’s room. I call him twice.
“Sup,” he answers the second time, like nothing happened.
“When are you coming home?” I say flatly.
“Whenever.”
Now, I want to hang up.
“Noel, get your fucking ass home by dark,” I say as sternly as I can.
“Whatever.”
He hangs up again, making my blood boil.
My frustration overflows and I erupt. My phone launches across the room and it hits the front door.
The broken door — the one I forgot about.
I need to buy a whole new door.
I groan and grab my car keys.
The door creaks open wider.
