Just A Little Insane

Freedom

     I'm about to walk out of this dreaded place. The giant steel doors ahead of me are opening. Daylight streams in and I close my eyes and breathe in, as if I'm smelling the air. This is the smell of freedom. When the doors are open wide enough for me to squeeze though, I run out with open arms, and drop my duffle bag that holds the few belongings I still own. Even if this place isn't the most beautiful first sight of freedom, it looks amazing to me.

     After my celebration run, I get escorted to a car. I climb in and when it begins to move, I give a little yelp of surprise. I haven't been in a car for awhile and forgot what it's like. The driver looks over at me like I'm crazy, which I probably am.
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     The ride seems to take forever. I just want to go home already, but when I think about it, I don't really have a home to go to. I was in college when I was put in prison and I was only in a dorm. Before that, well, I'm an orphan. While I was adopted, it was not the ideal life. I don't really plan going back there for more than one reason.

     "Where are you taking me?" I ask the driver. "I don't really know. I was just given an address. I don't know what's there." She says. "Oh. What's the address?" I ask. "Um, 224 Gillens rode." She answers. Oh no. "No no no, we can't go there. Take me anywhere else. Please." I beg. "I'm sorry. I have strict instructions. But you can call them, try and convince them to take you somewhere else." She says. "Okay. Where's  the phone?" I ask.

The driver gives me the phone and I call the prison. The call is short. Jessica picks up and I convince her that my home is still in Arizona. The new address I give the driver is Layla's house. I know she will take me in. But just in case, I decide to call her to let her know that I'm on my way to her house. She picks up almost immediately. "Hello?" She asks. "Hey Layla. It's Zoe." I say into the phone. "Zoe? What's wrong? Oh no. What did you do? Do you need me to break you out of prison? Give me a date, time, and place." Layla says from the other side. I chuckle. "No. Layla, I got released. I'm going home." I says smiling big. "What? Really! This isn't some prank?" She asks. "No. I'll catch you up when I get to your house." I say. "Wait. You're coming to my house right now?" She asks. "Yeah is that okay?" I ask. "Of course!" She says. "All right. See you soon." We both say bye and hang up.

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When we arrive at Layla's house, I get out of the car and grab my bag from the trunk. "Bye. Thanks for the ride." I tell the driver. "You're welcome. Keep safe now." She replies, and backs out if the driveway. I breath deeply and take the house I will be living in for who knows how long. It's small, but nice. It's a baby blue color that looks fresh and new. The door is bright yellow which seems just like Layla. There's a tiny little porch with two steps up to it and the driveway is just gravel. The yard is nicely taken care of. The grass is a nice green and there are flowers hanging from baskets on the porch.

     I walk up the path to the porch and climb the stairs. I knock on the door and stand there for a second waiting. When Layla answers, she is holding a small child that I guess her baby. I wouldn't know what her baby looks like because I've been in prison. I also have never met her husband for the same reason, and I have a feeling that there is going to be some tension between us. You see, when I was put on trial, the reason I went to jail was because so many people believed I'd killed the victim, even though there were no witnesses. Layla's husband, Wes, is one of the people who believes I did it. I don't think Layla even told him I was coming since it was on such short notice so I don't know how he will react, but I think that as long as we don't end up alone in a room together, everything will be okay.

    When I get inside, Layla shows me the room I will be staying in and I set my bag down and head back to the living room. "Alright, all unpacked." I say when I arrive. "That was fast." Layla says as she sets little Bailey down. "Oh well I don't have much stuff since you got rid of it all after I was put in prison." I say jokingly. "Oh right." She replies smiling. "How old is Bailey?" I ask. "Almost a year." Layla says as she begins to pick up stray things lying around the messy house. "Oh and I have an old friend from high school coming over." She says. "Oh okay. What's his name?" I ask. We didn't go to high school together so Layla knows people I don't, and now, I get worried meeting new people. I don't know there opinion on my case and they may be completely against me. "Lincoln. He's a nice guy. We're good friends." She says. That makes me feel a little better. Layla usually hangs with good people, and maybe this guy with consider both sides of the story before jumping to conclusions like most everyone else did.

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     Around seven, after Bailey is in bed, Lincoln shows up and we start dinner. We all sit and have polite small talk until Layla and Wes start to clean up dinner. When they finish cleaning the table, they start doing the dishes and when we offer to help they decline, which leaves me and Lincoln alone in the dining room. "So, how'd you meet Layla?" Lincoln asks almost immediately. I chuckle and say, "Well we've known each other for most our lives. We met in school many years back and have been friends ever since." He nods his head and asks, "What grade." I know the answer but I pretend to think for a minute. I don't know why, but I just do. "Kindergarten... I think." I say. "Well we met in ninth grade. We weren't the best of friends at first, but, after awhile, she finally accepted me and we became good friends and have been ever since." He explains. "But you guys seem like much better friends. " He adds. I just chuckle and nod.

When the night is over, Lincoln leaves and Wes goes to check on Bailey. "So how was your conversation with Lincoln." Layla asks me. "Good I guess. We just talked about when we became friends with you." I answer. "Alright sounds not awkward." Layla says. "It's kind of hard not to be awkward around him actually." I chuckle. "Really, even when we weren't really friends and didn't know each other nothing was ever awkward. In fact, no ever said they'd ever had awkward conversation with him ever, except-" she stops mid-sentence and looks up at me with wide excited eyes. "Except who?" I ask. "Except this one girl who really liked him."