The Lesbian Escape

Part Four : The Other Guy

Don't ask me how I forgot I had a boyfriend, I just did. I guess, it seemed easier at the time. Maybe, it was because my phone was turner off and I threw it in the trash, suppose it would've been because love isn't on everyone's mind twenty four seven.

I don't exactly know, why I even went on this trip, it's been a week and most likely the entire state of Wisconsin has been searching for me. I saw even on the news, they have a candle light vigil for me because my mom had broken down and explained to the school that I wasn't there.

I walked into a gas station for the night, and I had made the mistake of buying a cigarette from the man behind the dimly lit convent. It was the last amount of cash I possessed.

As the sun began to rise, I reconstructed a familiar face in my mind. My boyfriend, the one person, I had accidentally cheated on, was standing directly in front of me.

"Hey", I spoke as he reached out his jacketed hand, I grasped it, and he pulled me up and then held me close and tight. For the first time in awhile, I had felt a calm sense of awareness.

The kind of feeling, you desire when you just get finished playing in the snow. It's the type of escape you desire, when you've been running from yourself and your own responsibilities.

I had forgotten his warmth, we sat in his old rusty pickup truck for about two hours. In those two hours, we talked and smiled, caught up, and even talked about running away together for a minute.

Eventually, he was too take me home. I didn't want to go back, I just wanted a few more minutes with him. I needed to stall him. I had to get him to stop talking.

I punched him gently, and slid over closer to him. All I did was laugh, and what he did next took me by surprise.

When his lips softly hit mine, I paused and pushed him away. "I love you" He said. I just turned my head and looked back at the window.

I probably should've just said something about how much I love him. Because that night, I didn't spend on his couch, I spent along side another curb.

My tattered hoodie was probably my only possession. See, the hoodie is Jane's. By now she's probably writing in her diary about me and praying for my safe return.

I was concerned she was moving on and letting go though. This whole endless endeavor was because of her.
I even tried to call her but I knew she didn't know the phone number of the gas stations wall phone.

I had apologized to him before he dumped me on the side of the road. But my body had been too weak and tired to chase down that device he called a pickup truck.

Then I realized what curb it was. It was the curb directly outside of my house.

I was finally home.

-/-

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