Meteoroids

THE BEGINNING: Part One

It's almost 10pm and I am standing on the sidewalk in front of Brooke's Cupcakes doing what I have been doing a lot these past few years: reassuring myself. Reassuring myself that I am loved. That I am valuable. That things are bound to improve at some point in the not so distant future.

I'm staring at a grainy photo of three pasty white girls cheek to cheek at what looks like a city street. Why does this upset me so much? Because these three girls are my closest friends. And they went out without inviting me. Again.

I'm standing here, illuminated by the neon cupcake sign, in the pouring rain. But the tears, though smaller and less sharp than the rain, are infinitely more important. More embarrassing than the fact the rain is totally ruining my black suede knee-high heeled boots that I got for twenty bucks from a thrift store.

I exhale and look down the street. I can see a few bars lit up and the outlines of people smoking in front of them.

I wipe my tears. One of my pastel pink and sharp as a knife acrylic nails scratches my cheek. I turn down the alleyway between Rose's Nails (ironic) and Brooke's Cupcakes. I'm pretty sure Rose and Brooke are married.

Once through the alleyway, the road stops being paved and starts being dirt. 

I live in a town called Flicker, after its founder, Allen Flicker.

Half the town is developed, a progressive map of streets full of small businesses like my mom's hair salon.

The other half is all rural farmland and some housing. Housing for anyone who doesn't live in apartments downtown or Lilac Acres.

I step out onto the dirt road. I cross my arms, my glossy pastel pink raincoat crumpling under my arms. I walk far enough to be away from the lights of downtown.

Now I am truly alone.

To my left, a forest that stretches for many miles. To my right, an abandoned farmhouse that looks a lot less scary in the daytime.

I push my hood off my head and tilt my head up towards the sky.

The rain rushes over my face, ruining the makeup I spent a half hour on this morning and reducing my carefully curled hair to a wavy sopping mess.

But it feels cleansing. Like just for a moment my pain is washed away.

I wish it were that easy.

God. I wish.

I tilt my head back down. I watch the rain water drip off my face and fall to the earth, where is dissolves in the dirt. 

I keep walking. Soon it is too dark to see, so I take my phone out of my pocket. I clutch my fluffy light blue phone case and swipe to turn on my flashlight. 

The first time I had to walk home alone down this path was when I was leaving early from a friend's birthday sleepover party that my anxiety had prohibited me from completing. Even now, as a 17 year old, I still can't do sleepovers. 

My dad is gone and my mom was out drinking wine with her friends as usual. She was too drunk to pick me up.

So I walked. I think I was around 12 or 13. I didn't have a flashlight then, and the darkness felt all consuming. I ran, tripping only once on a rock and getting dirt all over my pajamas. But I made it home without getting eaten by a monster.

I changed out of my ruined pajamas and went to sleep. 

Now I can make the walk easily. After I managed the first time,  my mother figured I could do it every time. 

So I did. 

I finally reach my house. An old barn that had been converted into a small white house with red shudders and a white picket fence.