فيزا
'I talked to my wife ... and she told me that if we don't find a new place for you within next week... you can stay over at ours while we keep searching. Call her if you need anything and I'm not available'. Frank speaks, twirling a strand of my curls around his pointer finger, and perhaps, finally telling me the reason why he handed me a tiny envelope with his wife's number in it. And I buzz my eyes open and kneel on the mattress at the piece of news, the reason for that I don't know because trust me, I'm feeling all over the place and this was the cherry on top of the cake... because that was super sweet of him. I'm extremely thankful to him, as he seems to be far more concerned about my whole, homelessness thing than I am myself. He's super classy and such a gentleman, as he could've given me his own number (not the 911) but he didn't bad gave him his missus's instead ... but I just can't see myself calling Sean's mom in case of need. I just can't see myself staying over at his family house if I don't find a new place up for rent within next week. If I close my eyes and try to play pretend, I find it much easier to imagine myself sleeping under a bridge, than at Sean's parents'. Because y'know, I have a feeling they'd put me into his childhood bedroom, the one they kicked him out of when he was just a young boy with a dream they couldn't understand... and I don't want that for myself. That'd be too much for me to handle. Too cumbersome. Like it'd be super cumbersome to wake up everyday, get off the bed that once used to be his (and still is his from time to time, because he doesn't have a house of his own just yet) and have breakfast with his entire, direct family. Dogs included. It's amazing to find out that his dad cares for me and loves me so much he'd want me to stay over at theirs while I find a new place, it's incredibly sweet that he's told his wife about my situation, and that she said yes to sheltering me, her son's ex girlfriend, for a while... and it's flat out incredible to realise that I'm in their family although I've never really tried to fit in. But sorry, I can't say yes to this offer. There's my sanity at stake, and I know I'd lose it ten seconds in at the Kinney's. I mean, everything in this city reminds me of Sean, from the Space Needle, to Capitol Hill, to the Seattle Police Department, all the way to my couch... what would be of me if I was forced to live for a few days, if not weeks, at his parents'? Surrounded by his family and personal belongings all the time? And by his dogs too? Probably even haunted by his bikes in the garage? Including the Honda Four that made me fall in love with him before I'd even seen him in the face? I'd probably have a panic attack every other minute. Under the bridge, I'd have a much easier life... and I think it's for the bridge that I'll settle. Period.
'Nooo... Frank noooo. I could never'. I mumble, in semi disbelief hence struggling to find the words to let Frank know that although I've appreciated his generosity ... I could never, ever say yes to it. That among the things my heart (and my brain too) couldn't and wouldn't be able to withstand, a honourable mention goes to staying over at a place that once used to be Sean's too. He smiles at my (weak) attempt to speak, and the next thing I know, is that he's pulling me closer to him, and locking me up in the cutest, most wholesome, father in law x daughter in law hug ever. My head is on his shoulder, his one arm is around my waist, and his one hand is between my hair, playfully messing it up and so managing to make me smile and feel less miserable. And y'know why? Because I have a biological father, not just an adoptive father (in law), and he too would've cheered me up with hugs and hair touch love language, in this instance and in just about every other instance in this life, if he only was here. I miss my baba, and although Frank makes up for his absence pretty well, being there for me when my own baba can't be there for me... I feel like I need to talk to him and listen to his ever so precious advice. Let's not forget, that among the many things I've told my dad over the last few weeks... I haven't mentioned the fact that I'm getting evicted within the end of this month and that I still haven't found a new place to stay at, because I know he'd get all freaked out. And he'd ask me what I've done to get kicked out of the house that he himself found for me, and paid for until I started to make my own money.
