Miss, Do I Know You?

21 - Friday, December 25

On the edge of the street where I discarded the empty bottle, I felt incapable of taking another step. Physically and mentally. My foot throbbed with a numbing ache while cold gnawed on all my extremities, and my mind barely knew where to begin. What now? What does one do when they've reached the very end of themselves, and self-reliance has morphed into self-imposed exile?

I lit a cigarette, and another, until my head grew nauseous even while sitting there on the curb, and the vertigo started to work its way down to my gut where it intertwined with purely psychological fear and self-disgust. I was aware of what my only alternative was, but this idea of crawling back was pathetic to the extent of being laughable. 

A light in her window hinted at either a night resigned to insomnia or an unfinished evening. The streets were empty, but on the wintry outskirts of town they were empty by default, so I had no idea what the time was or how long I'd sat stewing in the streetlight fugue, hiding from the wind and hugging myself to keep warm. All that was left was a whole lot of shame and nowhere to stuff it. For the second time, the day of departure was marked by an unwelcome return, mocking my every desperate escape from this strange dependency that had me limping down the hallway with shivering limbs, numb fingertips, and chattering teeth.

Once the door yielded to my knocking that made even the neighbor's dog bark, I slipped inside before my shame forced me to turn on my heels and run. But I could not look at her. The door closed like a gunshot thumping through my brain as I pressed my forehead against the wood and closed my eyes to keep the tears from spilling. I wanted to collapse right then and there. 

But I steeled myself against the tide of despair once more, resolute not to shatter under Alex's gaze. Until a gentle voice spoke my name. And it was not hers.

A new kind of queasiness made me want to vomit my guts out. I had vowed to myself to never bring the boy into my mess, never let him see my ugly reality that tended to slip out every time I thought I was finally getting away, never do anything to sully his bright eyes that were looking at me with so much confusion. I tried to mold a smile upon my lips, though it felt as arduous as bending marble as my gaze wandered across the room, settling on the coffee table and the puzzle I had interrupted. And Alex's glare. My god, what had I just done?

Her expression softened into a forced smile when her attention turned to her son. "Can you go to your room for a bit, sweetheart?"

More confusion took hold of the boy, yet he obeyed and shuffled away under the guidance of Alex's hand upon his shoulder. But the moment the door shut, that smile was gone. I flinched at the mere thump of her footsteps, let alone that harsh tone of voice.

"Damn it, Kayla," Alex cursed, coming to a stop a few feet in front of me. "What the fuck did you do?"

Silent and paralyzed, I found my throat constricting, denying even a single word from coming out. My insides were being pulled together by barbed wire. Heavy eyelids battled against the impending surrender while a stabbing ache throbbed through my foot. Like I was in some psychedelic nightmare.

"You leave for one fucking day and come back drunk? While Benji is still awake?" Her words sliced through the charged atmosphere, each syllable dripping with resentment. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I closed my eyes. I did not want to face the reality unfolding mercilessly before me. Facing her seemed an impossible task, so appalling. "Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible, barely recognizable as my own. "I'll go away. Just let me warm up, and I'll leave you alone then."

Her eyes narrowed with a mixture of anger and disappointment as her voice turned into a blade of cutting words. "Get out of my apartment. When you bring my kid into your goddamn mess, that's where I draw the line."