Coming Home

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James

I finally reached New York. Traffic couldn't be worse, but it felt so good to be home. I loved being a soldier, but it meant a lot of time away from home. You don't notice it as much when you didn't have a ton to come home to. Sure, I had friends that I missed so much when I was away, but I didn't have much family or had anyone that I was romantically. I guess I've never gotten around to it.

I went on a lot of dates in high school. I was pretty popular actually, but when I left and went straight to the army, there wasn't a lot of time for that.  I went straight to boot camp for a couple months and then shipped straight off to Iraq for a nine months right out of training. Yesterday, I came home. I don't know for how long, but I hope it's a while. Despite not having many relationships here, I do miss it a lot.

Tonight I get to see my best friend in person for the first time in a year. We had face-timed a couple of times and texted A LOT, but you've ever had to be far away from someone you miss, you know that it's not the same. Steve is a history education major at NYU. He thought about coming with me, but... I don't want to say chickened out, but he chickened out. He chose to be a high school american history teacher. Figures. Steve's always been into that sort of thing. I thought that was why he wanted to be in the army. To experience what he loved learning about. I guess he just liked the learning part.

Tonight Steve is going to a bar with some of his college buddies. He invited me to come meet them. Maybe it'll be fun. Get to know some new people my age, party a little bit. I'm 21. Ish... I'm supposed to be having fun with my friends at bars and parties. Aren't I? I don't know... Even though I was pretty popular in High School, that was never really my scene. I don't drink when I go to these things. I pretend that I do. Steve knows I don't. I'm not sure why he arranged this thing. I'm not going to drink tonight. I think come off like a bad boy. A rule breaker. Sometimes I can be. Not when it comes to this though. I drank one time at a party in high school when I was 17. I know now that once you drink once, it's hard to stop. I woke up with a hangover and a lot of guilt. My dad was an alcoholic. I know better than to drink just because of peer pressure. I know what that does to people.

When the taxicab finally reached my new apartment I paid the driver and grabbed all of my stuff as fast as I could. My feet are killing me. Between the long, long flight and the long taxi ride, I was pretty tired of moving around. I walked up the stairs to my new place. There it was 2B. I put my three large bags down and fumbled with my keys. Finding and inserting the keys the right way took at least two minutes longer than it should have. When I finally opened the door, I saw it in person for the first time.

Oh yeah, when you live in Iraq, you can't really tour apartments. I just had been messaging the landlord, and an old friend named Wanda who used to live here. It wasn't bad. Really empty, but I don't know what I was expecting. I unpacked quickly. There was a when you walk in, there's a kitchen area on the right. Fridge, oven, microwave, sink and a granite island in the middle in front of them. On the other side, it was just flat wall. Maybe a place to hang some pictures? If you continue, There's a completely empty space for a living area. There's one old TV mounted to the wall. Next to the spot where the TV is, there's an opening to the bedroom. There's still a nice dark wooden bed frame that matches all of the dark hardwood flooring. I have a mattress, but my sheets won't be here until tomorrow, so I guess I'll just be cold for tonight. The truck with my stuff in it is supposed to get here tomorrow morning. It's got the rest of my clothes, my dishes, and all of my other things. The bathroom was small, but fine, and accessible through the bedroom.

By the time I was done with my little tour, it was 7:30. Steve had said to meet at the bar at 8:00 I grabbed a pair of dark jeans and black boots out of my bag. Probably better than than the gross airport clothes I'd been wearing all day. I changed into those, but kept on the black shirt and jean-jacket I was wearing. It should work for crisp New York fall weather. When I went to the mirror for a final look, I saw what I usually saw. Dark circles under my eyes, dry skin, the faintest outline of my contacts in my eyes, my chapped lips. The flaws are always what stand out. People tend to say I'm fairly attractive. At least physically. I've never really seen it. Not that I think I'm unattractive or anything. It's just... it's complicated.

7:45. Quickly, I run my hand through my hair and head out.

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