Dance

Last Night Home

I bent down with my hands on my knees, taking heaving breaths. I savored the feeling of my heavy breathing, aching muscles, my heart bursting in my chest. To me - that was the best feeling in the world. That feeling was my own personally made brand of Heroin, my drug that didn’t harm me. I was addicted to it, just as a drunk is addicted to alcohol, or a druggie is addicted to its drugs.

I loved the feeling I got, after finishing my dance practice for the day. The sense of accomplishment, and rightness I had in the world. Starting dance officially, as in getting to use an actual dance room and dance shoes instead of the wooden floor of my bedroom and some fuzzy socks that helped me twirl around as I listened to my playlist off my computer, was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I stood up, guzzling the ice cold water from my dark purple Thermos bottle that kept my water so cold. Drenched in sweat, I made my way to the dressing rooms with the others and changed quickly, making my escape from the preppy chatter floating around the room. The other dancers were always so shallow, the only thing they could ever talk about is who was with whom, and who dumped who for whom. It was all very tiring, and when I heard their random gossiping chatter I couldn’t help but laugh and roll my eyes.

Most preps were always so shallow and careless. I tried to avoid them as much as I could in order to stay sane. All they cared about was the latest gossip, and their petty little problems such as how their parents got them a stupid blue convertible when they really wanted pink, and how they are dreading the fact that they have to pout for the next week or so in order for their gullible parents to trade the blue in for the pink.

Yeah, they have really big problems, don’t they? Is it ironic that my best friend is a prep? I chuckled to myself as I walked up to Caroline, who was waiting for me like always. Caroline was my - very preppy- best friend in the entire world, we have known each other since we were five and I loved her dearly. Yes, she was on the cheer leading squad, yes she was dating the quarterback, and yes she was one of the most popular girls in school, but Caroline was different then the other preps.

Caroline had real problems, and she didn’t like to gossip with everyone, in fact she found it quite annoying. Caroline lives with her grandparents, her dad died when she was seven, and her mom walked out on her shortly after the death of her father. I was there with her through it all - just as she was there for me a year and a half ago when I really needed her.

Caroline was strong though; she didn’t let the death of her father and her absentee mother get to her. She lived her life just as she would if her parents were still her with her. Her grandparents are the kindest people you will ever meet, and they took Caroline in like she was their daughter, not their grandchild.

I smiled at my best friend taking in her petite form, shoulder length straight brown hair, and startling green eyes. Almost every girl in school wanted to be Caroline, and almost every guy wanted to be with her. Who could blame them? They didn’t know of her history, and she was very beautiful. But that's the thing, when people find out you're damaged goods - they tend to run away.

“Hey girlie” Caroline greeted me with a wide smile. “Hey” I replied letting silence take over. Neither one of us wanted to admit to each other the fact that I was moving from our small town in Minnesota to the great state of California tomorrow morning.

“Anna,” My dance instructor, Mrs. Elliot, called to me. “May I have a word?” I nodded, readjusting my bag on my shoulder, and walked over to stand in front of her. Lips trembling, Mrs. Elliot gathered me into a tight hug and sobbed loudly. I wrapped my arms around her slowly, and held her close as she cried. Mrs. Elliot was like a mother to me, ever since I started dance she and I had a special bond between us.

Mrs. Elliot pulled away from me and wiped the tears that were threatening to spill over again away. “Have a safe trip, Anna and call me when you get to California, okay?” She told me sadly. I nodded, forcing my tears back. I refused to cry, not here, not now, not in front of everyone. “we will talk often, Mrs. Elliot, and I will come visit when we get out Christmas break, okay? I love you, and I’ll miss you but I have to go now. Goodbye.” I said sincerely, give her another quick hug and I then proceeded to slip into the passenger side of Caroline’s old ford truck.

We drove away, in the direction of my soon to be former house. Caroline kept her head stiffly pointed in the direction of the road, not turning to look at me when she said, “So, tomorrow huh?” Her voice was thick with emotion and she choked on her words. I nodded sadly, and looked down at my hands. “Yeah, tomorrow.” I agreed with her. We were now parked in front of my house and I didn’t make any move of getting out of Caroline’s truck.

At the same time, we both quickly turned to each other and threw our arms around one another. She sobbed silently, and I fought the tears that were trying to escape and run down my cheeks. I would not cry. I could not cry. But I would still let my eyes water, and my voice be thick with raw emotion as I pulled away and said the three little words, the last words I would speak to Caroline in person for a good six months, “Goodbye, for now”. I hugged her once more and forced myself out of her truck quickly, running up my driveway without looking back. I knew if I looked back I would break down and let my tears fall. I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t do that.

I pulled open my front door, and disappeared inside my house. My dad was taking a late shift tonight so I was home alone, in charge of packing the rest of my stuff. I looked around my little house, remembering all the memories I’ve had here. I've lived in this house my entire life, there were marks on the wall by my bedroom door from were my parents used to measure my height. I could see the small holes in the wall from when Caroline and I tried to make a fort and ended up making the mistake of nailing a blanket to the wall. We got in so much trouble for that one.

I would miss this place so much. So many things happened in this house - the good things and the bad. The bad wasn't just bad. It was aweful, terrible, horrible memories that I had burried down deep inside of me - refusing to let them resurface. Instead, I tried my hardest to focus on the good memories. The sleepovers with Caroline, staying up late to watch horror films, and baking with my dad when I was younger and had to stand on a stool to reach the sink.

I walked into my room, which looked so sad with the many boxes piled around it, and the walls bare from any personal possessions. I looked at the empty space where my dresser used to be and tried not to cry. I never let myself cry, because I feel that if I started crying - I wouldn't be able to stop and there would just be a new river created by my tears. All that was left in this room that wasn’t boxes was my bed, and a small blanket that Caroline had gotten me years ago. My entire life was here in Minnesota, I wasn’t ready to leave it all behind.

One side of me wanted to stay, but another, weaker, side of me was happy to leave Minnesota behind. So many bad things had happened here and I just wanted to leave it all behind. This house was the last place I saw my mom before she walked out on us, leaving my dad for a guy young enough to be my older brother.

How much abuse had I suffered from my mother in this house? How many times had I been told I was worthless, a good for nothing nobody? Did I really want to stay in the house where I tried to over-dose after my mom left last year, telling me she wished I’d never been born, and that she didn’t ever want anything to do with me? Leaving might be sad, but it was a good thing for me. I couldn’t stay here in this house where my mom destroyed me - taking peices with her that may never return.

I wiped away the gathering tears, refusing to let them fall, and climbed into bed covering myself with Caroline’s blanket, passing out almost immediately.