Right Where You Left Me

it doesn't get easier

Today is Nate's birthday.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. My forehead is pressed against the bathroom door. The lights are off, which makes sense because it's five in the morning. My skin is slick with sweat and tears.

It doesn't get easier.

Losing your mother, your best friend and your best friend's grandfather all in the span of a year never gets easier.

It's especially hard to mourn people who are still alive. How do I mourn my mother and Nate when they could very well be living their best life on the other side of the world?

I have to admit, I'm jealous of Nate. Just a little bit. Because he left me here, stuck in this stupid little town, with Nancy, who has too much money and cries too much because she's all alone, and I know that I can't replace her grandson.

I grab my bag from the bathroom counter. In it is a change of clothes, a book, water and some money. In my hoodie pocket are my phones and wired earbuds. I crank open the window, letting the cold morning air seep into the bathroom. School let out a week ago, and while the summer days are unbearably hot, the mornings are quite cool. I slip on my red converse, the high top ones, and jump out of the window.

I land on the soft grass, and then I run.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Ten minutes later, I'm curled up in a bus seat, earbuds in my ears and book in hand. The bus is empty at five in the morning. Thirty minutes later, I'm on the subway, heading downtown. And an hour later, I'm finally hurrying through the bustling streets of the city, and I feel better.

The city is always lively, but people are beginning to wake up and head to work. I step over cracks in the sidewalk and bop my head to my music. I sweep into the nearest coffee shop and stand in line.

When I leave the shop an hour later, it's significantly hotter. Everyone is crammed into this city. There are too many people on the sidewalk and the buildings are too high. There's not enough shade. I've always felt claustrophobic in my town, but now I'm feeling claustrophobic in my city, too.

I've just got to get through senior year, and then I'm out of here.

I duck into a store. It's a cute bookstore, but I'm too broke to buy any of them. I run my hand along the spines of the books, wishing I lived in a library.

My entire day is spent like this. Sitting in a city, pretending like I'm not only there to look for the boy who left three years ago.

He turns eighteen today.

I doodle on a napkin with a pen and lean back in my chair. I'm in a different Timmies now, one with more seating space. It's empty except for an old lady on the other side, who's nibbling on a bagel. I know I have to go home soon. But I don't want to. I sit and sip my coffee and watch as the sun disappears behind the tall buildings in a blur of bright colours.

When I finally get back home two hours later, Nancy is waiting, feet kicked up on the sofa, watching a soap opera. She waves to me, a little flutter of her dainty fingers.

"How was your day, Adya?" she asks, lighting a cigarette and holding it between her middle and forefinger. She brings it to her lips and takes a long drag.

"It was okay," I reply, setting my bag on the floor and washing my hands in the kitchen sink. She blows a smoke ring and I watch as it disappears into the air.

"I went downtown for a while. Just chilled at a few shops," I continue.

She nods. "Nate's eighteen today."

Straight to the point. "Yup," I sigh. "Has he gotten in touch with you lately?" Nate has called a few times. He's never told us where he was, or what he was doing; simply that he was safe and stable.

"Unfortunately not," she says, taking another drag. "If he calls you, let me know, alright dear?"

I nod and drink a large glass of water before disappearing into my room.

Our house is small, considering everyone here lives in giant farmhouses with huge kitchens and high ceilings. Our house is simple. On the first floor; a kitchen, living room, bathroom and bedroom that belongs to Nancy. Upstairs we have another bathroom, a closet, and my bedroom. And Nate's.

Nate's bedroom has stayed empty and untouched for a while.

I collapse on my bed and pull out a book. My head tips back against the pillow as I turn page after page, getting lost in a story much more exciting than my mediocre life. I want to have adventures. I want to have friends that will go to bookstores and lakes and parties with me. I want to spend this summer surrounded by people that love me, a bonfire crackling and marshmallows roasting.

But most people don't want to be friends with the drug addict's daughter.

When Mom first left, theories flew around. She's pregnant with the pastor's baby. She's an illegal immigrant. She had an affair and moved in with another man somewhere else. Then the police caught a dealer, and he spilled the names of everyone he dealt to. My mother was his top buyer.

Many adults pity me. Some even go out of their way to be nice to me. But the kids at school were horrible during sophomore year. I tried making friends after Nate left, but all anyone cared about was if my mom had another dealer. If they could get the dealer's number. If I had any drugs.

I stopped making friends after that.

My plan is to get through summer. Finish senior year with high marks. Get a scholarship and get out of here. Never look back. Nancy talked about moving somewhere up in the country after I graduate; she told me I could always visit whenever I want. But she knows I'm done with the small farm town life.

She knows I seek something bigger.