Us Versus the World

T-Minus 40 Hours to Performance

I didn't sleep that night. I used the 8 hours of stillness to try and write. From the looks of it, Murphy wasn't sleeping either, just politely closing her eyes. We were parked at a rest stop, and I decided that I needed to get out of the car. We were deep into the tip of Texas, and so even though it was September, it was hot. Even though I knew Murphy was pretending to be asleep, I was quiet as I opened the door and slipped out.

The air smelled like the cigarette I had tried earlier, but I didn't mind much.

I thought about what my mother was doing right now. Sleeping, no doubt. She probably wasn't worried. She had a lot of other things to attend to. When I came back and was in her face again, then she'd have a lot to say about it. And my father hadn't noticed yet, I was sure of it. If he had, he probably made a flowchart of all the different possibilities, and determined that the most likely was my returning home. Then he probably threw away the letter and went back to his other logical plans.

They were good people. And I knew, because they always told me and deep down I know they believed it, that they wanted the best for me.

They want to give me financial stability in the form of a job that requires me to wear business casual on every day except Friday and sit in a windowless office making endless conversation with coworkers.

They wanted to give me love in the form of starting a family and then supporting that family in a respectable suburb sensible house that will probably be beige. They always said that they wished me a content life full of security.

But in the future that they wanted for me all I could see was small talk and busy work.

They were good people. But sometimes, even good people have no business deciding what is best for me.

I have no idea how long I sat on the car roof, trying to write but only ever coming back to these same thoughts over and over and over again. I knew I needed to write about them, but I loved my parents and I was pretty sure that they loved me and to get up on that stage and air my private business with the entire world felt so wrong. It was different doing it online, when nobody knew me and I didn't have to look into their eyes and I burdened them with my problems.

Eventually, Murphy finished trying to pretend to sleep, and she hoisted herself up onto the roof with me.

"What are you thinking about?"

I didn't reply.

"I'm not going to sleep tonight I don't think." She pulled her legs up under her chin. "Are you homesick?"

"No." The word slipped out before I could catch it, defensive and ridged. It felt like a lie. I amended it. "Yeah, kind of."

"Me too. All I've ever wanted to do is leave, and now that I've left it doesn't feel the way I thought it was supposed to. I've always liked myself, but sometimes the parts of me I like fall away and all that's left is the mean parts. And those parts say to do what I want and to hell with anybody else." She shifted, the metal burning a little even in the night. "And I resent my mom, sometimes. Even though she's doing her best..." She trailed off. I didn't have to hear the end of the sentence. I knew what it was from a lifetime of feeling the exact same way.

"Sometimes I'd like it if my parents weren't so interested in making sure I going to be okay, and focus on weather I am okay right now." I don't know where that sentence came from, it just bubbled up and foamed out of my mouth. It felt like a dirty thing to say, but it wasn't something I could take back.

"You know sometimes it feels like it's me against the world?" I knew it wasn't a question by the way she let it fall flat at the end.

"I know." I don't know why, but I answered anyways. I think it was mostly because I didn't want her to feel so helplessly alone. But also a little bit so that I wouldn't feel so helplessly alone.

"Devon?" She was quieter than I had ever heard her, a lot more unsure of herself than when we were on the road.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think that maybe it could be us against the world?"

"I love you." That didn't slip out. I knew exactly where that sentence came from. And I meant it.

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