Unhinged √

21.

 

     Growing up, my house never felt like a home, mostly because there was never anyone in it besides me. Being the only child of a single independent woman was a blessing, especially when that woman was prominent attorney Sarah Levinson.

I got all the luxury I wanted without having to ask because even though my mother was rarely home her presence was always felt in loaded credit cards and sticky notes reminding me that it wasn't all for free, I had to always be worth it, I had to be her golden boy, I had to be fitting enough to be called her son.

I always knew I was never going to be who she wanted me to be, not entirely so I dreamed up my own home and worked hard until I got it and it was beautiful, it was everything I ever wanted.

    Today, my house doesn't feel like the home I always thought it to be. I've been laid on the sofa for over an hour staring at the muted television but not registering any of the images, even the colors don't stick. It feels like I have been thrown into an alternate universe and my body isn't really mine.

There is a feeling of hopelessness coursing through me and I dread it but I know that I deserve it. Everything looks familiar but they don't feel the same. The walls are still a shade of yellow I can't name even if it had been I who chose it. The set of chairs are a vibrant green courtesy of Travis.

Pokello had handled most of the decoration, only seeking our opinion in the areas she deemed personal like the sort of kitchen cabinets we wanted. Regardless, she did a great job that I'll remain grateful for even if right now all of it seems fickle.

   My heart races as I hear his footsteps approaching but I lay still, shadowing him all day yielded nothing so I lie still hoping for a change, hoping that he at least spares me a glance. He enters the living room and my eyes find him, he is about to leave and a panic rises in me, then he looks at me and I crumble.

His eyes are not familiar, in seven years of knowing him, I've seen them twinkle with joy, gleam in surprise, red in rage, serene in love, wet with tears but now I see nothing. His eyes hold nothing aside their anatomical properties and it breaks me to look into them but I can't look away.

I never thought the guilt could eat any deeper but it seems like I'm only just starting to feel it. I want to tell him something, I want to run to him and hug him, maybe if he feels the beating of my heart he'll know how sorry I am.

"Travis__" But he is out the front door before I say his name.

I stare at it for what feels like hours, wondering how it got to this point, how I let myself ruin this, ruin us.

Suddenly the quietness of the house begin to prick at my skin, filling me with the need to get out, of the house and of my skin. I have never been a fan of loneliness, human contact is one of my greatest needs. Not necessarily somebody to confide in, just someone to look at, some sort of assurance that the whole world hasn't evacuated, leaving me behind.

I stretch and pick my phone off the table, dialling my best friend, he picks after a while.

"Hey".

"Is Meghan home?"

"Wow Jake. You're not even gonna be subtle? Start with the nicknames?" I roll my eyes at his stupidity.

"Can you be serious?"

"She's not. Why?"

"Can I come over?"

"I always knew this day would come and man you know I love you but we can__"

"I swear to God, Rodriguez". His laughter is soft on the other end.