Saving skies

Chapter 5

It’s been 2 weeks since the party.

Nothing has happened in a whole 2 weeks.

Jane texted again, this time was demanding that if I don’t come home she will come find me. I didn’t reply, again. It’s not like life will be better at home. Threats won’t scare me back.

Damn it, Anna, that wasn’t home.

Well, neither is this… really.

I haven’t looked at Bryce since that night either. And he doesn’t look at me. We just manage to ignore each other perfectly.

It’s a great arrangement.

After we drove home, I heard him mutter something under his breath along the lines of “stubborn… if only she wasn’t so stubborn” I assumed it was about me, but didn’t really mind… I mean, he wasn’t calling me a slut again.

I held onto Nick’s promise of letting me cook and clean for them so I could stay here. I have been through every cupboard and drawer, except in their bedrooms and vacuumed every corner in the house. Today, I am scrubbing down everything: the walls, the cupboards, and the bathroom.

I stand on a step, in my bra and underwear (because my clothes are in the wash) with a bucket of soapy water in one hand, and a sponge in the other. I have cleaned all the walls so far, and it’s nearly 12:30.

I breathe out in relief of my job nearly being over, and step into the kitchen to look for some food. I take the left over soup from last night out of the fridge and pop it in the microwave. In the absence of anybody else, I take my phone that has been sitting on the bench, and turn on some music.

A heavy bass picks up into the room and my old Nirvana albums that have been with me forever play out loud in the room. As my soup heats up in the microwave I tap my foot to the beat, slowly starting to swing my hips as the music builds up.

When the chorus comes around I am jumping around the kitchen, maniacally swinging my hands over my head and shaking my hair. All my dancing experiences collide to form a perfect moment, my body moving simultaneously with the music. It predicts every change in beat and accommodates it with a change in movement. I don’t even think about where I am going, it all just happens so naturally.

Then, a quieter song comes on and I stop to stand in first position. Then, combining ballet with jazz and other forms of dance I begin to create my own dance. I just move wherever feels right.  I step to the left and swing my leg around until I am twirling around on the slippery kitchen floor. I land down again and continue to dance like I’ve never danced before.

The feeling that comes with dancing is so refreshing. All my worries fly out of the door. I don’t need family, or people to calm me down. I just need a beat and my movements. I can throw everything away. I don’t feel any kind of guilt or regret for crashing on a stranger’s couch, I don’t feel sorry for running away from my foster parents, from all my familiarity. I don’t feel like I’ve failed my parents by basically dropping out of school at age 16. I don’t feel that heavy sadness that comes with the realisation of my parents not being here.

All I do is dance.

And when the song ends I finish off my final movement and stand by myself in the kitchen.

When the door slams shut.

Crap. I swing around to see Bryce standing in the entrance, staring at me like I’m some wild animal.

“Oh, shit. Sorry… I didn’t think anyone was coming home until later in the afternoon… crap…” I begin to reel off my tongue at Bryce who continues to stand quietly at the door.