Week one. Friday.
It’s the end of the week, and I should be happy. That’s what I’m told, anyway; that’s what I would’ve said, back in Boise. But back then, I had things to do. Not important or interesting or even satisfying things to do, but something to fill the gap nonetheless.
Then again, when you’re living in a virtual urinal, anything would do as something to do. The less time I spent in there, the better. Sometimes I think that’s why I got away and Mom didn’t. She spent so long in there that it suffocated her. She succumbed to it.
Boise never felt too big. It felt smaller than this house that I’m living in – living probably isn’t the term for it. Here, I get lost with just one step out of place, and every step takes me somewhere foreign, which I guess is technically true. My path every morning is the same one and the same one every afternoon: from my room, to the shower, back again, down the corridor, to the kitchen and out of the2 door. I avoid going anywhere it isn’t necessary to go.
Dad has noticed, and it bothers him. I can tell by the look he’s given me this morning before I left. Inside I call it the Her-Recovery-Isn’t-Coming-Along-Too-Well look. I’m not supposed to know he’s amateurly psychoanalyzing my every move, but he doesn’t make much of an effort to hide it. I wanna scream, I’m Depressed, not stupid.
There’s tiredness in my walk today when I get on the bus and scale the stairs. I knew I could have faked sick today, without even trying too hard, and Dad would’ve let me stay in even though it’ll just be me Not Facing Things I Must Face. But the truth is, school gives me something to do. Not important or interesting or even satisfying, but something to fill the gap nonetheless.
The gap is wider now.
Heavily, I sit down, a few rows in front of Jasper’s row , stare out of the window. It’s monotonous, but monotonous is better than erratic, at least right now. Right now, monotony means constant, stable numbness. It’s numb, but it’s not manic depressive.
“Hello.”
This voice is familiar enough to me now. I exhale and look at him pointedly. “Hello, Jasper.”
There he is, sitting next to me, his arm draped over the back of my seat, his stance radiating confidence. “How are you today?”
“Fine.”
“That’s where you ask me how I am,” he explains patiently, then tsks. “Americans. No manners.”
I’ve had boys talk to me like this before, playfully, with their faces leaning towards you, eyes staring into yours, daring. Back in Boise, I wasn’t bad at that game myself. Now, it’s an unwelcome reminder of what I was. What I was to people.
“How are you, Jasper?” I force myself to stay neutral, refuse to let the anger show – or is it shame? I can’t recognize my own emotions. The Doctors are gonna like this one.
“Fantastic now,” he replies, pleased with himself to have coaxed that much out of me. His grin makes me want to turn away, but I don’t.
Instead I say, “Great. Now please can you leave?”
He pauses. “Well, you said please,” he admits. “Looks like I’m rubbing off on you.” Then he stands up, salutes me with two fingers held together. “Catch you later.”
As he swaggers down the aisle, I can’t help myself. I smile. Nothing important or interesting or satisfying at all, but a smile nonetheless.
kay, so my aim is to update this daily. it comes easily to me, and updates aren't too long anyway, so i'm gonna give it a go <3
Dedicated to wildandcalm because she messaged me and made my day which was the sweetest
