Her Own Wings

Liz Moves Out

Several months had passed since she had been released from the psychiatric hospital. She found herself at home, alone, on a beautiful spring afternoon. She couldn't remember having the house to herself, for an entire afternoon, in a very long time. She got a large cup of soda, her cigarettes and her Walkman and went to lie out on the trampoline in the backyard. Her parents had never bought a hammock, so she had taken to using the trampoline as a makeshift hammock. She had made a cup holder to hold her drink, so she could lie down, and not worry about spilling her soda. As she climbed up onto the trampoline, she noticed how the sky was such a beautiful blue, and noticed how the clouds looked like big puffs of cotton. It had been a while since she last lay out and just stared at the sky, the clouds and imagined the clouds as various shapes. It was a game she and Blake would sometimes play.

While staring at the clouds, thinking about their various shapes, she began thinking over her life the last several months, and all the twists and turns her life had taken.
Blake was the first thought. She was finally free of Blake. It was wonderful to have the freedom of not having him around, demanding sex daily, and forcing himself upon her. It felt good to be able to come and go as she pleased, without having to answer to him as to where she was, where she had been, whom she had been with or what she had done. She did find herself yearning for the early years with him, when he was her savior. As she remembered the countless rapes, however, she was pleased that she was finally free of him.

Next, she thought about her family, specifically her parents. Sir Father was still drinking, and she was either in class, working at the college, or in her bedroom trying to be invisible, yet again. She was miserable. She had no one she could confide in, because during the years she dated Blake, she had eventually cut herself off from all her friends, so now that they moved on with their life, and they had their own things going on, and they had drifted apart. She had no one she could talk to. Her typical day consisted of going to school, going to work, coming home and trying to get her homework done before anyone got home, then when everyone got home she would eat dinner with the family and when Sir Fathers drinking started to get bad she would go up the road to the truck stop where she would buy cheap coffee and sit and finish her homework. No one at home seemed to care or miss her. By the time she came back home, Sir Father was usually already passed out from the drinking. If he wasn't, she was usually able to slip into her bedroom unnoticed if she stayed really quiet.

She realized she had fallen asleep, and had been outside for a while; the sun was at the horizon, about to set. She sat up, and pulled her legs to her body and hugged her legs. She enjoyed watching the sun dip below the horizon, and seeing the bursts of orange, pink and sometimes purple that streamed across the sky. This had always been a peaceful time of day for Liz, her most favorite part of the day. She had always found the setting sun beautiful.

She hopped off the trampoline and headed towards the back door of the house. She saw lights on, so knew someone had gotten home. As she got closer to the back door, she heard the screaming, and froze in place. Her father was home, and screaming at Mom. Mom hadn't told Sir Father yet to move out, Mom and Liz had been working together to plan the timing. She knew the time was near, and wondering if her Mom decided to go ahead and tell him. She tiptoed a little closer to the windows so she could hear well.

She could hear Sir Father yelling, and realized instantly that it was his typical, angry, drunk rant. She knew Mom wouldn't have talked to him about moving out when he was drunk, so knew it was something else that set Sir Father off. She tried to figure out what had happened, but realized quickly it didn't matter. A drunk Sir Father was no good, and no fun to be around. Mom and Sir Father were in their bedroom, and she knew they usually kept the door closed. She stood rooted to her spot, fighting her indecision of whether she should enter the house or not. If she did, it was iffy on if she could make it to her bedroom without being seen.