We're Not Related Anymore...

Getting Back On Track

Maddie: Present Day

I'm grateful when I get home to find the apartment is empty. I toss my suitcase into mine and Lindsay's room before heading for the shower.

I spend hours in there just trying to get rid of the grime that seems to collect after sitting in a plane and airport for hours. Once I'm done, I unpack my things and curl up on the couch with a blanket and tea.

My phone stares at me from the coffee table. I know I have to let everyone know I'm safe and sound at home but I wish I could leave it off for just a little while. For the first time in days, I'm finally alone. But it's terrifying how quickly I got used to a busy house again.

In this apartment, because of the weird hours we all work, we are rarely at the apartment at the same time. Sometimes I work late while the others work the early shift and we don't see each other for days. But back home, the house was always full of people. I got so used to hearing the twins bickering at all hours of the day and running into Lilian in the kitchen all the time that I almost feel lonely now.

I run my hand over my loose, wet hair and frown. I don't want to be left alone with my thoughts. When I am, I start thinking about Lilian's house like it's a home. I go into the kitchenette and grab the list we keep on the fridge. I tear out a page and start writing down things I need to do just because I need something to keep me busy so I don't keep thinking nauseating thoughts.

1. Let people know you landed safely.

2. Get your hair done.

(After I got out of the shower, I took one long look at my roots that were starting to show and winced).

3. Figure out what you want to do with your life.

I stop there and look at my list. It's short and yet still feels impossible to achieve. Until I went back, I never thought badly of the life I'd mapped out here. I had a job, friends, and an apartment over my head that I paid for with my own hard-earned money. I had independence. But after hearing everyone's jabs over the last few days, it doesn't feel like much.

From Betty's comments about how I could've gone to college to Lilian's about running away, this little piece of paradise suddenly doesn't look so shiny.

I know I can't be a waitress for the rest of my life but I couldn't imagine what my life would've turned out like if I'd actually gone to college. What would I have even studied? That's an easy answer, actually. Biology, like my father. But no career in that field would've spoken to me.

Maybe I'm smart when I'm not so lazy but that kind of academic lifestyle just isn't for me.

I look at my list again and decide I'll get the easiest task done first. I pick up my phone and shoot off three quick texts. One to my mother, one to my brother, and one to Jacob.

All of them say more or less the same thing, Hey, I'm home safe and sound.

But I stop after shooting my message to Jacob. My fingers hover over the keyboard. Should I type back I'm sorry? Should I explain my actions? Ha, imagine that message:

Sorry I was a bitch. I've been feeling like shit for the last few days and wanted a fight to feel anything other than guilty and sad. While I have thought those about you you didn't need to hear them.

Yeah, no. I don't think that's the kind of message he needs to see. I pick up my cup of tea, still contemplating my next message to Jacob when I see the three bubbles pop up to show that he's typing out his response.

It's a simple, thanks for letting me know and I wonder if I even have to respond.

"Just apologize, you coward," I tell myself out loud, grateful again that I'm in my apartment alone.