Outside of Our Universe

Chapter 22

After dinner, when it's time for bed, I can barely sleep. I toss and turn for hours, my mind running at a thousand miles per hour, hopping from place to place like an overactive rabbit. I put in my headphones, pull my covers over my body, and stare at the ceiling. Glow-in-the-dark star stickers make constellations on the smooth surface, the only light in the room.

I hug Bundles tightly and try to sleep, but my eyes remain wide open.

I always wanted a real father.

Sure, I had my mother, whom I really loved, but I still always wished to have a father too, just like everyone else. I wished I could have someone who would care for me and spend time with me, someone who would make me feel happy.

I want that even more now, since Mother is gone too.

When I was little, I would look out the window and see the children outside, playing games with their fathers out on the lawn. I would see the fathers get home from a long day's work and hug their children lovingly. I would see a complete, happy family where everyone felt loved. I wished that there was someone who could comfort me and love me. I wished that there was someone who could guide me through life. I wished that there was someone to remind me that I'm not alone.

But I guess I am alone.

I have no one. No one to run to when I get a scrape on my knee, no one's shoulder to cry on when I feel sad, no one who tries to understand me and help me when things are just so endlessly confusing and scary. I wish I could feel what it's like to have a real father, a father who is loving and kind and wise. The closest I ever got to that was Nathan.

I squeeze Bundles tight and roll onto my side. I will never have anyone else. It's just me and Bundles, living in solitude under the care of Ms. Worshire.

I finally close my eyes when suddenly, I hear a thud in the house. The door closes with a bang and footsteps stomp up the stairs towards me. High heels click against the floor. Ms. Worshire giggles to herself as she stumbles down the hallway. A light turns on in Ms. Worshire's room as I hear her put her purse down. She opens the closet door loudly. Then she closes it.

I wish people were more considerate when I'm trying to sleep. It's sometimes like Ms. Worshire thinks I can't hear her.

I close my eyes and try to go back to sleep.

I imagine space. Just empty space. Stars float above me as I drift through the vast cosmos...

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Hey love, what's shakin'?"

Oh, god. Please no.

Ms. Worshire starts to speak at an obnoxiously loud volume into her cellphone, slurring her words.

"Well, I am very well you know," she says playfully.

Ms. Worshire is secretly living a double life. When I'm asleep, she goes out to party, and when she comes back, she's a totally different person.

I don't quite understand it.

But then again, I don't understand a lot of things. The world around me never makes any sense. Everything is alien to me, as if everyone else is speaking in a different language. I don't feel like I fit in at all in the giant scrambled puzzle that is called 'the world'.

Ms. Worshire continues to talk on the phone loudly.

"Yeah, it was so fun! I'm like, good! I really really enjoyed the party! You wouldn't even!"

What?

"Well, I'm really glad I have your number."

I can't comprehend what Ms.Worshire is saying.

"Totally. I've just been so stressed out lately. You know what I mean?" Ms. Worshire struggles to speak coherently.

"Yeah... uh-huh... I'm just like... so..." She trails off.

"Okay, bye." Ms. Worshire finally hangs up the phone. I watch through the crack between my door and the floor as Ms. Worshire turns off her light, going to bed.

While Ms. Worshire sleeps, I think about her conversation. Party? What party? "I'm glad I have your number," I remember her saying. Whose number? Why is she glad? I have no clue what is going on. No matter how much I think, I can't figure out what Ms. Worshire was talking about, where she went earlier, or why she might be talking like that.

I stare at the ceiling.

And I understand this from what happened tonight:

Ms. Worshire went out to a party

Ms. Worshire came back with slurred speech and clumsy movement

Ms. Worshire got someone's phone number

Ms. Worshire is stressed out about something

Lists make things much easier for me. Visualizing and ordering my thoughts make things so much more clear. But still, I can't really figure out what any of the things from the list mean. The only thing I do know is that Ms. Worshire isn't exactly the person I know her to be.

I don't like it when people keep secrets. But then again, I guess we all have some secrets to keep.