Finding a home(part one)

I laid in the one bedroom apartment curled up in a ball in the bed. My face stayed buried in the pillows digging and searching for the smell, for any hint of it. I lifted my head from the pillow to glance at the clock, its digital readout blared the small red letters at me like a stop sign 10:15. Well fuck. I wasn’t getting up, that was for sure. I rolled onto my side of the bed, my body aching from laying in one position for so long. I let my nose breath in my smell, love spell and my shampoo mixed. I grunted a bit, pissed at the fact that my smell could retain on the sheets and yet yours would fade within days of you leaving. I propped myself up on one side and traced my fingers along the edges of your pillow case. It was soft, and the fabric almost felt erotic on my finger tips. Tears slid down my face for the second time that morning. Reaching across the bed I groped blindly for my cigarettes. My fingertips finally grazed the box and I pulled one out and lit it up. I watched the rings of smoke dance upward toward the ceiling and gracefully out the open window. I listened to the Washington rain falling slowly on the tree right outside and I sat up and leaned against the wall, too much to think about and not a thought wanting to enter my head. I looked at the framed picture of us that sat on the dresser and then slid off the bed. Time for life to start, I thought, time to breath in air.1

Breathing in air proved a little harder than I thought. I missed running, that was for sure but the two mile path I had routed the day before seemed more challenging today than it had looked yesterday. I watched the cars go by and somehow drowned out their sound. I missed running at home. I missed the way Virginia mountains looked as the sun came out, gently sliding up behind them shining warm rays down through the trees and falling as though a mist on to the road. I quickened my pace just to make it burn a little more than it already did. I missed running toward the house, right after the pavement turned to gravel, around the sharp corner by the Petersons, into the driveway. Usually by the time I got home everyone was gone except me and I could have the whole place to myself. Turn on music loud to stretch out to and take a shower with no one to tell me to turn the music down. Before I knew it I was far past my one mile mark and it was time to turn around. That’s when reality hit me, what am I turning around for? Its not like you were going to be there when I got back and I kept pushing. I was soaked now, half with sweat but mostly with rain. I kept going, racing for the pavement to turn to gravel even though I knew damn well it wasn’t. I ran until my lungs were going to explode, rip out my chest and leave me for dead. I pushed past it. When I reached the mall, the sidewalk stopped for a cross walk and I bent myself over. I knew I had to turn around, but it wasn’t like I was going home. That apartment, that empty space was not my home yet. It wouldn’t be my home until I said it was, and I wasn’t about to call it that yet It was home when you were there but when you were away, it was that empty box that put a roof over my head and nothing more. I turned around anyway. I was hungry and I was soaked. I needed a shower, and I needed sleep. I hadn’t slept in a week, now would probably be a good time to get some. The way home proved longer than the way out, my body ached and so did my mind. I wanted you to be there when I got back but I knew you wouldn’t be. I left you a note anyways.2

“Aidan, be home soon, love always, Molly.” 3

It wouldn’t do any good. It just sat there on the counter waiting to be read by me and another reminder that I was always alone and there was nothing I could really do about it. It was like a slap in the face every time I left you a note, I knew it would go unread and this one did as well. The pink paper was soon balled up and in the trash can, with a hundred other little pink pages with it. I went into the bathroom and started the shower. I stripped off my nasty sweat stained clothes and stepped in, some things will never change I thought to myself as I realized yet again the house was empty and I was in the shower alone. 4

I made myself approachable after a shower. Makeup and doing my hair, the whole bit. I did it for no one but me and possibly to ease society about my look a little bit. I didn’t realize how rough I looked until I really moved up here. I had black hair, an accident with hair dye after my first time trying to dye it alone and I figured it might as well stay that way. My eye brows were little black lines of hair, I waxed them that way, I hated thick eye brows. Then there were my eyes. That’s what made people uneasy. I could see it every time I lifted my head and looked someone in the face. My bangs would fall in my eyes and some people would almost recoil from me. They were blue and not the fake contact blue. I mean deep blue with rings of darker blue around them. It scared some people and with my pale white skin I looked like an odd thing I am sure. I tried my hardest to find away to look normal or half way normal before I went to run my daily errands. You had always loved that about me, my eyes and the fact that my hair was black. 5

“You’ve always been different” you’d mutter into my ear “And that is absolutely sexy and always will make me want to hear every word you say. And of course lay next to you forever.”6

You would look at me again and pull me in closer to you, and wrap your arms around me for a second until I would roll over and look at you. I knew you would get up to go to work and leave the warmth of our little nest so I couldn’t savor the time anymore than I did.
I’d look into your gray eyes with the flecks of blue and green in them and watch you get animated about our life together and smile as you described your perfect house and then the alarm clock would go off again and as I looked in the mirror I jumped. I swore to god I heard the alarm clock, but instead my reflection just woke me out of a wonderful day dream.
Your job was fucked. I knew that from the start. You weren’t the first guy from the United States Army I had dated but you were the first I had decided to spend my life with. I wasn’t really sure what you did but it really didn’t matter. I knew you had to work all the time. I knew that much. I had very little family up here too, and I the family I did have here was military also. It was a whole new kind of job. I was so used to the rich, 9-5 business type. Then I dumped Ken for G.I Joe and here sat emo Barbie in the dream house all alone. I never committed to a guy. This was unusual and pretty abnormal for me not to have run by now. That’s what I do, I run away. Yet here I am, running errands and paying bills all alone and it made me feel awkward. My birthday is tomorrow I thought. Maybe you could come home early just to see me. I put my coat on to walk out the door and I looked at the furniture in the empty apartment. I knew that if you hadn’t been home in 4 days, my birthday sure as hell wasn’t going to reel you in any faster.
I hated going grocery shopping worse than anything in the world. It was like a game for them. They would see the engagement ring and ask what my fiancé did. Well shit. Sadly, I was obliged to answer and no matter how I would want to answer the same conversation followed the question.7

“He’s in the army.” I would reply8

That was usually followed with a long sigh and a longer look of pity and fake understanding as though the woman or man actually did understand the loneliness or pain I was feeling right at that moment.9

“Oh I understand, you poor thing. He must be at that base up here, I hope he’s doing well. So, when is the big day?” 10

And at that moment I would give the biggest fake smile I could muster and say 11

“Yes, he’s doing fine. Thank you so much. November 8th. Not too far away. Have a good day now.”12

I wondered if the person inquiring actually gave a fuck. I figured they didn’t but who was I to judge. I trudged out of the grocery store pushing to cart full of bags. The rain had subsided into a drizzle and it wasn’t so bad to be out in. I loaded my car and got in. I looked at the empty passenger and back seat. I saw Morgan sitting beside me laughing. Her blonde and shadowed hair falling in her face. Hand out the window and sunglasses on. I saw my guys in the back seat both laughing and having fun. I miss them I thought and I smiled. I let the day dream fade away as I started the car and Morgan vanished from my passenger seat for the time being. I checked my phone for anything from you, and as usual, nothing. I knew that your job was gay but nothing in four days, come on, that’s almost impossible. I drove through town, past the stores and corners I was starting to get to know. I watched the day drudge by with nothing good except memories that floated in and out of that empty apartment like the wind that kept blowing its way in only to be pushed out. I cooked alone again, and I hated that. I liked you there when I cooked. Your arms around my waist and your head either buried in my hair or my neck. You would nuzzle into me and watch everything I did. You would smell me and every so often at the worst moment turn me around to kiss me, knowing it was the wrong time but knowing I wasn’t going to say a word about it. Every so often I would think I heard your lock in the door and I would walk out to see if it was you but it was only the neighbor or the wind making the blinds click and there I would stand looking like a fool. I would eventually make my way back into the kitchen. Back to my job applications or my dinner. I watched the evening slip into night. I would curl up and watch bad television at night and hope that I would hear your boots scraping through the hall or your keys scratching at that lock but as night would surely turn into morning. Into the bed I would go and my arms would suddenly find your pillow again searching for any smell of you that remained. I would sigh and roll over and hope that one day you would remember that I existed. Then my phone rang and just about everything changed.