Hello, my name is Loser

Chapter 5: A small town view

Then it's just mom and me. She sips her coffee with two hands and looks wistfully at the front door. Her blue eyes are cloudy and I wonder if maybe she notices more than I give her credit for.

"So." I say into the growing silence. Then I grab my FREEDOM mug from beside the coffee pot and blow at the tendrils of steam clawing the air.

"Hmm?" She looks at me with a distant expression, blinks and it's gone. Only her usual wariness remains. It's like Dad leaving has somehow exhausted her more than my disruption to her sleep schedule.

She stares at me for a moment, I feel her gaze travel head to toe. My skin itches under her inspection and I feel suddenly self conscious in my oversized SpongeBob T-shirt and men's boxer shorts.

I expect her to comment on my choice of clothing, but instead she just says, "Right. I need to call Kim and you need to head out, and I mean out of the property."

I take a cautious sip of coffee, swallow, and immediately regret it when the burning bean water hits my throat. As I'm fanning my mouth I send Mom a questioning look.

"My clients, remember? They'll be here in about two hours but I need time to get the place ready."

Ah, yes. Another MLM scam she's into, no doubt.

A pang of disappointment lingers in my chest and my hand reflexively rubs below my collarbone as if I can wipe away the feeling.

I wonder what she's selling this time and glance at the rest of the downstairs. The kitchen features immaculate hardwood floors with granite counter tops and through one archway dark leather couches are visible in the den. There's not a speck of dust or even an askew picture. My mug is the only thing taking up counter space now.

All of that aside though, who the fuck is going to see me in the garage? I start to say as much when a phone rings, effectively cutting me off.

"I gotta get that!"

I watch as her pink clad form heads down the hall and up the stairs.

Mom's voice calls, "We'll talk later about camp!"

****

Thirty minutes later I've washed my face and brushed my teeth like a real human. I'm wearing jeans despite the growing heat outside, a navy tank, and some converse. My pale shoulders practically blind me in the dirty mirror. I trace the blue veins swimming just under the surface of my skin. I'm skinnier than I remember. The jeans gap around my waist now and my cheeks look hollow. I swallow hard.

I see Tammy standing over my shoulder, her reflection contorted in a snear. My pulse dips. She's not here. She's not here.

And my cheeks aren't that bad. Maybe it's just the lighting - or lack of, in this tiny mouse sized prison. I sniff the air and force myself not to gag. Nope, I still haven't gotten used to that unique scent. I silently pray that I never find a box full of actual shit in here somewhere.

A thought strikes me. Three years ago this garage had one massive addition to it that I can't believe I didn't notice was missing until now. It had four wheels, a cracked windshield, and a gray paint job from 1989. Or at least my car did the last time I saw it. It's been so long I'd nearly forgotten.

Old Bessie must have finally kicked the bucket. I send up a prayer like the NFL players do and search for a different mode of transport.

****

It takes another thirty minutes for me to pump air into one of the bike tires and by then my trusty fan can't save me from the sweat beading on my forehead. I picked the only bike closest to my height, a red one with rust eating at the gear chain. It'll have to do for now. On a whim, I grab paint supplies and throw them in a canvas bag.

By the time I'm peddling down the driveway there are already cars pulling up to the curb out front. I glance at the young women entering my parents' house, some look even younger than me. Fools, all of them. I don't yell at them to get back in their cars and drive away, instead I peddle in the opposite direction.

The summer sun greets me and wind caresses my hair, tossing chin length pieces behind me. I can't remember the last time I felt the sun like this. I feel almost weightless, like I could fall off the bike and just float. Everything becomes a rhythm: the click of the chain, the whir of the wheels, roar of wind in my ears.

I don't know where I'm going and I don't care. I can hear birds singing. Were they always singing? I let my feet take me through back roads, up hills then down. I glance at the blanket of clouds in an indigo sky. Out here I can almost forget the lies and the truths. The fact that I'm a terrible person. A disappointment of a daughter. A traitor of a friend. A liar in all —

"Whoah!"

I jerk the handle bars and brake just in time to avoid colliding with a guy heading perpendicular to me on a black bike. He screeches to a halt just after passing and looks back. His features are disguised by a helmet and sunglasses, but I can still tell from the tan forearms peeking out of his white t shirt that he's at least got physical fitness going for him.

He yells, "Jesus Christ! Watch where you're going!"

And I guess physical fitness is about it.

"Where I'm going? You couldn't brake and let me go first?" I bite back.

"Let you go first?" The dude laughs, "What is this the nineteen fifties?"

His laugh scratches at a memory, but I push it aside.

"Whatever, asshole, hurry up on your way. I wouldn't want you to miss out on hitting someone else. Actually, I think I saw another cyclist back that way," I point behind me, "If you hurry up you might be able to take out their back wheel before they get too far."

He's still laughing as he re-mounts his bike, "No time, unfortunately. I'm gonna be late."

With that, he leaves me in the middle of the road as he continues in the direction he was going. I stare after him. Not sure why. Curiosity maybe? After a heartbeat he raises his arm and I have to squint to make out the gesture waving back at me.

Is that....He's flipping me off. 

______________________________

Hellaur again!! 

Thank you for reading. Please vote, comment, follow. All the good shtuff. 

Hmmm, do we wanna guess who this "asshole" is???? hmmhmhmhmhmhmh??

xoxo Heather