The Lesbian Escape

Part 3: The Run Away

I remember a part of my life when I was happy. It was a day when my father had been home. I was twelve and laying on the couch. I had gotten influenza, from kissing my best friend. Back then I was slightly straight but never thought it mattered.

I was more focused on school back then   I was concerned with girls. I remember sitting at dinner one night, and standing in my room facing my mother and father sitting at the left end of the long almost stomach quenching table.

My father had just gotten back from his second official fossil expanding in Cuba. I can remember him slamming his phone down on the table. Standing up briskly rushing around the table picking me up in the air and swinging me around in the circles and swiftly but slightly gently placing me back in my chair.

And kissing mom on the cheek. Pulling out of his long green dinosaur embroidered nurse like doctor jacket two single tickets and saying "Were leaving for Cuba in the morning!"

I had jumped up from my seat, and pulled him closer than ever before.
That memory had me mesmerized, As I strung my old comforter down my window and onto the morning dew below. I paused, and looked over the horizon.

Sunlight had just begun peeking through. And I had to hurry. I jumped from the ledge proving more and more difficult to land, I rolled as I hit the ground. My backpack making a slight clanking noise and I summersaulted onto my usual standing position.

My Head didn't move but my feet did.
My backpack bounced as I pushed through the darkness of the nighttime almost yawning like air.

I had pounded on many doors and asking if I could stay, but most people just yelled or slammed the door in my face. I guess, it was just that time of morning.

I rummaged through old suburb trashcans and city dumpsters, all while dodging and ducking the police. For a few moments in time. I felt like I was in one of moms old James Bonds films.

I smiled at the thought of the old us cuddling and me lodging my head in Chubby but not totally fat waist.

That night, I had a dream. Well, it was more of a nightmare than it was a dream. In my dream, I was married to Jane, It was thanksgiving and we were at the table.

With all the vital foods, butterball turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, butter bread, and my favorite corn.

She looked at me, and I looked at her. And then I looked at her clothes. And then I realized where I really was.

The amazingly festive walls became crusty with rust and shifting dirt. The beautiful wooden floor transformed in clothed mice and roach infested base.

I moved closer to the edge of the table and scooted in. I was in a deep dark prison somewhere off in the Atlantic Ocean.

And when I awoke I ended up vomiting, maybe it was because of where I was sitting or perhaps it was because I was just home sick.

-/-

Comment
VOTE
Read (Please)