A World Alone

Chapter 2: Make up your mind

The water runs cold when I turn on the shower, even though the mere thought of it just lasts me for a second. I've got alcohol smell all over me, I've got cigarettes smell all over me and, what's even worse than both of those combined, I also think I've got vomit smell, although I wouldn't be so sure why, since no one vomited actually near me last night... or so I think.

It's almost ten in the morning when I'm done with the shower. I step out, comb my hair, put on some brand-new clothes, and then... I just wait.

I wait while standing in my room, facing the mirror. I wait because I just realized I have no idea of what I should do next, to be honest. Well, I've got a slight idea, and that is, that I'm leaving the house. It's Sunday, it's around ten, and that means that my stepsisters' football match is about to end. And that means —and I know it because my stepmom has been repeating it over and over— that since it's the first Sunday of the month, their team will come to have lunch here, at my house... which is actually our house, but their home.

I didn't make any plans with my so-called friends for today, and even if I'm debating on texting them or not (because I may complain that they aren't my friends since they don't really behave like friends and it's a bit hypocritical of me to still hang out with them if I don't like them, but it's better that than being here, and of course, everything's better than being alone), I quickly conclude that it's way too early for them to be awake... they'll probably sleep until past lunchtime, which means that I need to think of something, and I need to do it fast.

When my mom lived here, things weren't exactly like this. I lived in another house, to begin with, and I had a home. My actual home is in Argentina anyway, in that region that geography books and maps call Patagonia. My grandparents live there, and so do my aunts, uncles, and cousins.

And so did I, for a good number of years.

My mom moved back here five years ago after she got married to a movie director, the second one. The first was my dad. I hated the idea of moving to LA, but at least my dad lived here, and so did his side of his family... it'll be good, I thought. Also, my mom's husband had a daughter a couple of years older than me, Lily... we were great friends, and then we became like sisters... my mom and this guy had a kid, Marcus, and everything seemed great, and it all was great, I'd like to believe, at least for some years. Yet, the second this guy got a job in London, my mom moved out with him, along with Lily and Marcus. And I stayed here with my dad, getting to live in a house that I could never consider a home, alongside his wife and daughters.

I never understood why they didn't take me to London with them. My mom always said it was because of school, that she wanted me to finish school here and all that, but I never quite believed it... I don't know, maybe I'm just jealous. I mean, of course I am, who wouldn't be in my place? My family moved out of the country and left me here... anyone would be jealous of the ones who got to move out.

I've been feeling lonely since then, especially considering Lily and I were pretty much best friends and that our relationship hasn't been the same ever since they moved away. I don't really know what happened, but our phone calls and texts stopped being so frequent as they used to be, and it all just... well, changed. And now, it got even worse, especially since this summer I'm not going to visit them in London, nor we're going to Argentina... they're in South Africa, filming a movie. And I'm stuck here, feeling miserable.

The second I think of that word, miserable, I remember the guy from yesterday, Matt. Poor guy, that was a miserable person, if I've ever seen one... going drunk on a club and just getting hurt by someone else's shoe, after getting his heart broken by some other guy? That must hurt... and he threw up a lot before entering his house once Fred dropped him off... I wonder if he's alright now...