So maybe your life is in shambles and you run away to London to get your head straight. Sure, you don't really have a plan but the Universe does, and before you know it, some kid from Kingston has completely turned your world upside and your body i...
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"Over here...Thank you so much," you said as the furniture guys set your couch down in the middle of the living room. You put your hands on your hips, contemplating the space, as they let themselves out. You moved it a bit here, a bit there, until it rested in the perfect spot.
"It's a start," you said to yourself. A start to maybe settling in, settling down. Until this moment, you weren't sure how long you were going to be here. You were broken, your life scattered, and London was a refuge. But it wasn't by chance you ended up in Kingston. You did do some research, thinking there were prospects here for your future. You just didn't know when that future was going to start. The slightest commitment to anything, purchasing furniture, even emptying your suitcase, meant that your old life really was over. That you really weren't going back. But something's changed, hasn't it? Maybe someone's changed that?
This was your home now. This was your life now, however isolated or fractured it may be. Until now, you didn't want to accept that. Until now, you thought you'd just keep moving. Your phone suddenly chimed with an incoming Skype call. It was mother. You sighed and answered it.
"Hey, Ma," you gave a quick smile.
"Oh, you are alive!" she said sarcastically.
"Ok, ok, I deserve that. Sorry," you said through gritted teeth, "I've been really busy, like living my life and shit."
"Busy doing what, Y/N? Pouring beer? You should never be too busy to call your mother."
Wow, she just had to go right into it, didn't she? Ma always knew the right buttons to push.
"There's nothing wrong with 'pouring beer'" you responded, not even trying to hide the annoyance she was so good at eliciting.
"Have you contacted the university?" she asked.
This again, you thought.
"No. Listen, Ma, I gotta get ready for work. You know, pouring beer. May not live up to your standards but..." you shrugged.
"I just hate to see all that time and effort you've spent go to waste is all. You can do so much better than this," her tone changed to concern, but she always did this to you. Came right in to yank you back just when you were getting somewhere emotionally
"You think I don't know that, Ma? You think I don't wake up every morning and wonder what the fuck I'm doing here?" Now you were angry, and when you got angry, you cried. You hated that about yourself. It always made you feel weak. Anger should be such a strong emotion, but you always seemed to end up in a puddle of tears.
"It's done. It's over," your voice started wavering and you felt your eyes well up, "and nothing you can say or Jason can say or anybody can say is going to change that. So, you can keep coming at me about what a fuck up I am and what a whore I was and how I can do better and all I can say is, I know! I was there! But I'm trying for fuck's sake!" You wiped your eyes quickly but it didn't seem to do much good.
"Y/N, I only..." Ma started.
"I gotta go," you hit end, threw your phone across the floor, and slumped down on your brand new couch.
Fuck this wallowing, you thought, patting your tears with your sleeve. You grabbed your phone and went to your bedroom and started to unpack your suitcase, finally. You folded a pair of jeans and his picture, the one you secretly kept, slipped out of the back pocket. You sat there on the floor and stared at it, your heart sinking.
"You'd get a kick out of this, Michael," you said to the photo. Those eyes so blue, you thought again. Your own eyes welled up again.
"You'd tell me I was being stubborn and that I should continue to kick ass, as long as it wasn't yours," you laughed a little wiping your nose.
"God, I miss you," you ran your fingers over the photo and looked up, "Try to behave yourself up there, although I know you won't." Your phoned chimed with a text.
TOM: What a day! Can't wait to tell you about the Homecoming plans. You work tonight right? How about I come over afterwards?
You stared at the text and leaned your head back against the wall. Don't do this, Y/N, you told yourself. Michael's last words to you were to go and be happy. Be happy!
But you were too nostalgic to be happy right now. And too fucked up. Same old Y/N. You texted back.
YOU: Not tonight. TOM: What's wrong? YOU: Just not tonight, Tom. TOM: Y/N, are you ok? YOU: I'm fine.
