The Suicide Note

Chapter Three

I woke up this morning with a twist in my stomach. It was the last day of my old life. I knew what I was getting myself into, and I look forward to the next few weeks. It’s what’s at the end of them that I fear.

I woke to find myself grabbing my bags that I had previously packed the night before because I knew I wouldn’t have the energy or the mindset to have everything I needed this early in the morning.

It was 7a.m. and my parents were already gone to or at work. This was a daily thing. I would wake to empty house and after school I would return to an empty one still. Both of my parents worked, and that’s not because they chose to, but because they were forced to.

My family isn’t the most financially stable one in the neighborhood; in all honesty we may be the poorest of them all. Our house showed it too. The yard was unkempt and the paint was severely fading. That was only because my parents were never home to keep care of it, and we really don’t have the supplies to do so.

My parents are incredibly depressing when we talk about financial things. When I ask when I can get new shoes because the one’s I have holes in them they always tell me to wait until mid-month or the end of the month when they are paid. My family literally makes it paycheck to paycheck.

One time, a little over a year ago, asked my mom when they would be able to retire and alls he said was “honey, some people get the luxury of retiring, but your father and me,” she sighed letting out a chuckle “we won’t.”

That stuck with me since. My parents won’t be able to live a life when they don’t work fifty-hour workweeks. They won’t be able to just sit and chat with one another on weekends or early morning weekdays. They will literally be doing the daily grind until they die.

That’s my family’s wonderful predicament. We’re poor.

I grabbed my bags and left to meet Ash at the library.  Right before I left I grabbed some food for the go, it may be the last time I eat a “home-made” meal. It wasn’t even made at my house, but it counts.

I made my way down the street with my small bag wrapped over my shoulder. I couldn’t help but feel relieved by the fact I finally started my journey. I was on my way to Alaska.  It felt so strange to think I was actually making this trip. It couldn’t be too hard I lived in Montana. I looked up the distance, about 2,500 miles.

I didn’t plan on walking the entire way. I would find ways to travel. People had kindness in them.  I could always hitch a ride.

I met up with Ash and she was looking the same way she always did. Her black hair pulled back in a ponytail and her brown leather jacket snug on her back.

“Hey, Eli.” She chirped. I guess Ash is a morning person.

I returned her greeting with a simple head motion. She grabbed her large hiking backpack and slung it over her shoulder. 

“I’m ready when you are.”

“Let’s go.” I told her.

The thing about Ash that confuses me is that she does anything without hesitation or question. She jumps blindly into a situation without even analyzing it.  I look over at her and she has her bluish-green eyes gazing off towards the horizon.

I can’t help but smile at her.

Our trip starts down the nearest highway in town, MT-541/Utica Highway. The busy traffic swirls past us in blur. I looked back at Ash and saw her walking behind me with her hitchhikers thumb in the air waving down traffic.

“What are you doing?” I snapped at her.  

“Your really plan to just hike your way up to Alaska? You’re funny.” She shot her thumb back into the air.

“NO, I was going to hitch rides, but from people I talk to a bit in a diner or something, not just a random stranger that picks up teens on the side of the road!”

She glanced back towards me keeping the same walking pace we had before, when she opened her mouth she made her usual southern accent that is incredibly forced “Well, honey, we’re going to just trust the compassion of people on the road and hope they don’t kidnap us for slaughter.” She added a wink to the end.

I thought about what she said. “Trust the compassion of people” that’s incredibly true. I should be able to get a ride and feel safe with people. I take in a deep breath and thrust my own hitchhikers thumb into the air right next to Ash’s.

It only took about a mile before a dark blue mini Van pulls up to us on the side of the road.