On my way back to the apartment, I replayed the thirty seconds before I had puked in the bushes. All I could remember was the concrete being splashed with my internal fluids, the thudding of shoes in a box, and the shrieking of the man with perfectly tossed hair. With a matter-of-fact helplessness, I give up as I reach the Castle Apartments, focusing more on that shower and fresh clothes. I check my mail before the short jog to my floor and flip through. Junk mail. Coupons. Bills. Bills. Bills. Junk mail. Bills. Postcard. Bills. Wait, a postcard?
At first my face falls and I can’t figure out how to lift my legs up each step. By the time you get this postcard I’ll already be boarding a plane to you :) That last line with the final smiley face mocks me as I climb the last flight of stairs to my door. When the level below me dissipates from view, I can see a figure in the hallway, seemingly near my home-sweet-home, and while I step above the last stair, I get the feeling I should turn around.
"Yonnie, is that you?” Too late. I usher a smile onto my weary face and fumble for my keys, arms stiff with elbows bent.
“Yeah, mom, it’s me,” I say unenthusiastically.
“Oh hun,” she reaches for the right words when she sees me, but fails miserably when she says,” You look horrible. Where have you been? You smell like a.. a... Oh hun.” She hugs me gently, as if a soft touch would prevent the scent from rubbing off on her, but I just stand there, painfully awake. She takes the keys from my hands. “Which key is it?”
“That one.” She unlocks the door and moves me inside, guiding me as if she’s lived here her whole life. I yawn and bundle my hair up on the top of my head. “Take a shower, hun, I’ll fix us something to eat.” She smiles sweetly, but I’m just going through the motions. My mom is here and I fear she’s not leaving, not unless I go with her. I hear her muttering to herself when she looks inside my refridgerator, but I’d rather not hear her disdain for the food I buy so I turn on the shower and slip out of last night’s clothes. I step in and remember the last argument we’d had.
...
“ Yonnie, you can’t keep running off in the middle of dinner with these guys! You upset them and you won’t get paid!”
“You mean YOU won’t get paid. I don’t want any part of this.”
“Hun, we’ve got to eat somehow.”
“That somehow has to be this? Forget it, I’m leaving.” I remember how I ran off like the stubborn eighteen year old I was. From there, my mom and I only communicated through the apologies she left on napkins and slipped under my door. Her desperation scared me so I moved into an old friend’s living room and didn’t hear from her at all. When I’d heard she turned to selling painkillers, I left for a city where no one would know me or the shadow I lived in. I left for me and didn’t think twice about letting anyone know. Somehow, she’d found me.
…
“I don’t want any part of this,” I murmured to no one in particular. Then the shower water ran cold.
When I take a second glance, the front has the large Welcome to Vegas sign on it and a corny “Wish you were here” message underneath. Some might’ve found it cute, but I found it annoying. The other side had recognizable, swirly handwriting with hearts on every dotted ‘I’ and smiley faces where the periods should be. She always did too much- my mother. It read:
Yonnie come home :) You know I love you :) Have you been doing your stretching :) You know how you get when you don’t :) I’d ask you to join me in Vegas where I’ve been having wonderful fun, but by the time you get this postcard I’ll already be boarding a plane to you :)
Love, Peace, and Happiness,
Mom
At first my face falls and I can’t figure out how to lift my legs up each step. By the time you get this postcard I’ll already be boarding a plane to you :) That last line with the final smiley face mocks me as I climb the last flight of stairs to my door. When the level below me dissipates from view, I can see a figure in the hallway, seemingly near my home-sweet-home, and while I step above the last stair, I get the feeling I should turn around.
"Yonnie, is that you?” Too late. I usher a smile onto my weary face and fumble for my keys, arms stiff with elbows bent.
“Yeah, mom, it’s me,” I say unenthusiastically.
“Oh hun,” she reaches for the right words when she sees me, but fails miserably when she says,” You look horrible. Where have you been? You smell like a.. a... Oh hun.” She hugs me gently, as if a soft touch would prevent the scent from rubbing off on her, but I just stand there, painfully awake. She takes the keys from my hands. “Which key is it?”
“That one.” She unlocks the door and moves me inside, guiding me as if she’s lived here her whole life. I yawn and bundle my hair up on the top of my head. “Take a shower, hun, I’ll fix us something to eat.” She smiles sweetly, but I’m just going through the motions. My mom is here and I fear she’s not leaving, not unless I go with her. I hear her muttering to herself when she looks inside my refridgerator, but I’d rather not hear her disdain for the food I buy so I turn on the shower and slip out of last night’s clothes. I step in and remember the last argument we’d had.
...
“ Yonnie, you can’t keep running off in the middle of dinner with these guys! You upset them and you won’t get paid!”
“You mean YOU won’t get paid. I don’t want any part of this.”
“Hun, we’ve got to eat somehow.”
“That somehow has to be this? Forget it, I’m leaving.” I remember how I ran off like the stubborn eighteen year old I was. From there, my mom and I only communicated through the apologies she left on napkins and slipped under my door. Her desperation scared me so I moved into an old friend’s living room and didn’t hear from her at all. When I’d heard she turned to selling painkillers, I left for a city where no one would know me or the shadow I lived in. I left for me and didn’t think twice about letting anyone know. Somehow, she’d found me.
…
“I don’t want any part of this,” I murmured to no one in particular. Then the shower water ran cold.
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