The Turning Point

CHAPTER EIGHT- A DIRECTION

Heloyse

A lady had given me a ride, and when she asked me where I was going, I just said, "Wherever you're going."

She looked at me with a kind smile on her face and turned her attention back to the road.

"Okay! I just won't be able to take you all the way on your escape. My destination is an hour and a half from here."

"No problem!"

"Don't you want to know where we're going?"

"No, I think it's better not to! Wherever this path takes me is fine."

I had never left Boston since I started living there. And at twenty-six, I realized that I had only used my life to work. There were few times I went out to have fun. I only worked or lived "glued" to Michael. Now, I realize that life was going by and I hadn't enjoyed anything.

An hour and a half later, the lady, whose name I didn't even bother to ask, dropped me off on a road and left, waving and wishing me a good trip. I waved back and started walking.

The long road was lit by the midday sun. I had walked before the lady gave me a ride, and now I noticed that my legs felt tired. I wasn't used to long walks.

Along the road's shoulder, I walked without caring about the time or the signs. My arms were sore from the suitcase, so I sat on a bus stop bench and decided to rest for a bit. Minutes later, I went to a roadside restaurant and had a meal. After the meal, I walked a little more.

I spotted an empty playground. I approached a bench and sat down. I watched a lonely bird drag itself across the sky. A bird so small in a big world. I felt like that.
I stayed there for hours, watching people, children... Complete strangers with their ordinary, strange, problematic, or excessively good lives.

I took a photo of my parents, still young, from my backpack. My brother was smiling, and I was hiding behind my mother. I remembered Marcus defending me on the street, at school. I missed my father's hugs, my mother's advice, Michael's kisses. I was alone. I wasn't prepared to lose any of them.

It had been a long time since they were gone, but it still hurt as if it were recent. Maybe if Michael hadn't been with me when I lost my family, I would have run away a long time ago.

While many ran away from home because they couldn't tolerate their parents, I would have run away because I didn't have them anymore. I would have crossed the ocean to get away from the pain I felt.

I picked up my phone, looked at my photos with Michael, and decided to delete them one by one. And with each photo I deleted, a sob escaped my mouth. And the last one, I looked at for a long time. It was a photo of him sleeping. That day had been our first time.
I deleted it too.

The afternoon was falling, and I went back to the road. I walked and walked until I reached darkness. On the road, tears fell. I didn't know what I was looking for, I didn't know what I would find ahead. Maybe I wouldn't find anything, but inside, I wanted to find a motivation, something to distract me, somewhere that would make me feel good.

I thought about sitting at the next stop. I would get on the first bus that passed.

Tears overflowed from my eyes. I thought I had cried them all, but I was wrong. All that pain started to come out of me like big waves, and suddenly, I was standing on the shoulder, sobbing and trying to stop them from falling. I was tired of crying so much. I had reached my limit.

I had cried "liters" for several months.

If I could count all the tears I shed, I would never reach a result. Could an ocean compete with them?