Disregard the Weather

 I made a bad choice, this being the day I let my ambitions to walk to work guide me out of my trailer-house, my old beat up, paint chipped car grounded in the driveway as if no correlation to me. And I was fine with that. I didn’t want any reminder of my ‘home’ and that garage. Though now here I was, stranded in seemingly the largest storm in the state this fall. The flimsy umbrella I held loosely in the palms of my hands was no use against the storm that rained overhead, pouring through the cotton of my gray and blue Metallica sweatshirt. As I walked through the City of Detroit, I could feel the burning eyes of businessmen and women on me, wondering of my whereabouts, though disregarding me like the trash littering each street corner in this place. Who’d want to deal with a lost hormonal puppy like me? I didn’t care, instead gluing my eyes to the cracked and sloppy done cement below me, threatening a fall with every wrong step on the uneven pavement. 

I cursed something under my breath as a taller man in black dress shoes and an old neatly cleaned tux bumped into me, in which I was the one who received the grumble from him. It took everything in me to not take off my headphones and glare up at him, and if I could, curse him out. But I couldn’t, didn’t- so I kept my head down. Kept walking. I had a while to go still to get ‘home’ through this unsafe place, being in the dark was not a very friendly option for the kinder around the big city. Picking up my pace after the small passing, I hurried down the hole-in-the-wall alley that while was a shortcut to me, was the middle of a druggy market for the less fortunate in this place. I didn’t blame them of course- we all had to make a living somehow. But I certainly didn’t stop and chit-chat with the local meth heads either. I could only imagine what Bryan would say- rant on rant about how ‘dangerous’ they were. And how ‘hurt I could get’ if I dare glance their way. Hypocrite.

The best part of a storm for me, is how the loud droplets splattering the ground with hail-like intentions seemed to cancel out everything around me. The calls of vile people wanting me to ‘let off a layer’ and the real-life advertisements who wanted nothing more than to haul me aside and sell me a bottle of happiness. Sure, the heavy rock beats in my ears worked well, though as the wire connected the set to my iPod was so fragile that any more of this wind could be it’s last hold. I protected it fiercely in my sweatshirt pocket, because only god knew when I’d be able to afford another set.

Letting go of the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding as my feet hit gravel- meaning I was out of the alleyway and back onto the main sidewalk - I breathed in the sweet scent of street foods. I had reached the carts! This was my favorite part of the trip home, the captivating plot of any story that I had so heavily wanted to be apart of. Before this I was only able to see such a sight trapped inside the big blue bus- my own transportation from one hell to another. Though now, being surrounded in the smells and smiles of food carts and people, I couldn’t help but crack a sheepish smile myself, one that quickly faded as I made out my bruised and disfigured face in an oily puddle below me. Stepping through it just to get away from the sight, I lifted my head as a booted woman stepped in front of me, her long striped overalls and soft features drawing me in whether I liked it or not. I grew uncomfortable effortlessly. I hated when people stood in front of me. She opened her mouth to speak out, my eyes focusing in on first her cracked lips, her black umbrella resting gently on her shoulders, then the nice smelling beef she held on a reused paper plate. Or at least I assumed it to be reused by the grease leaking through the bottom.

I don’t remember what she said, all too hard to hear over the now Freddie D in my ears, and the wind pushing me around like a rag doll. Though the next thing I knew, she was holding out the sweating burger, her wide hazel eyes insisting. Oh. A worrier. Trying to help out the ‘homeless,’ hm? 

I looked over myself. By the soaking wet sweatshirt and the ripped leggings, I did look to be like any other bench lover out here. Whatever puts food in my stomach, I thought, before shrugging my shoulders back and accepting the offer. With the small nod of my head in silent thanks, I tried to walk past her. Again, she blocked my path. Her light gaze hardened, and she stuck out her hand, grabbing needily at the space in between us. Again, she spoke. The words passed my ears with no care, unprocessed. My own dark muddied pupils narrowed at her. She wanted me to pay. Well rest assured I didn’t carry money- not in a place like this, and not being alone. A female, alone. Fuck that. Shoving the plate into her stomach, I sped off, her small shriek blessing my ears. Bingo. That was my queue to leave now. And I did so, weaving through crowds that huddled the more popular joints- Korean foods, mostly. Nothing of interest anymore. I’d lost my appetite. 

By the time I was off that street, the multiple lights that had lit up the corner event were now off, leaving me in pitted darkness. My cold hands began to shake under my sleeves, which I crossed anxiously over my stomach. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been here, and now I almost wished to go back. I hated the dark- I hated this. Home was certainly not where I wished to go, but at least I had a room that resembled something of ‘privacy’, the only person who could hurt me tucked soundly in his living room chair down the hall. Here, I knew nobody's intentions. In my mind, they were all out to get me. That had been engraved into my head since day one of being allowed to go to school.

The streets were more empty now, though nevertheless just as dangerous. A crack of lightning followed by the roar of thunder over me sent a shiver down my spine, anyone who saw me could describe I visibly jumped back a little. My breath grew heavy from the shaking ringing out in my ears, and I was frozen in place for a few heartbeats. Once I had put myself back together, taking a deep breath as I taught myself to do, I carried on walking, hoping nobody saw. Though of course to my god granted luck, someone did. The familiar red and blue lights of a certain black and white car strolled up behind me, stopping just paces in front. I saw the window roll down and I shakily swallowed a dry ball of air that began to lump in the back of my throat. Out of the old police vehicle, a heavier set man poked their head out, neck strained in my direction. He removed his shades, staring through me. They then mumbled something that dropped from his tongue as if scripted- something he was told to say in a situation like this at the police academy. I checked the time on my ipod, wiping profusely over the dim lit screen that was watered over. It was only 8:37 pm, plenty of time before the street curfew. Shining the officer a well rehearsed smile and a cute nod, that seemed well enough for him. When he drove off and away, my head drooped back to the floor.

Smile and nod, Bryan had always told me. I could imagine him looming over my smaller body, his dry knuckled hands and ring-less finger pulling through my curls. Say anything else and I’ll be very upset.

After seemingly forever of hurried walking, I could visibly see the older trailer park, comforting in its silence, though not eased as my own trailer light could be seen on through the thin, pink, fabricated curtains hanging over the small half window. I could imagine him, sitting in his coffee stained chair, watching whatever channel was on the television as he waited patiently for his child to return home. While the street curfew may have been 11:00 pm, my curfew was a mere 9:30 pm. I checked my ipod again, repeating the whole water wipe, adjusting my eyes to see through the dark. My heart dropped. Metallica: One (Reprise.) Time: 9:44 pm. With a new look of worry and almost fear painting my face, my heavy walk turned into a sprint. 

Down the old hill I ran, my gaze glued ahead as I know longer watched my steps. With one wrong foot on one wrong patch of grass though, I went plummeting into the ground. Immediately the sting shot down my non padded knees, ripped black leggings now staining red as the sharp rocks dug into my side. It was no pain I couldn’t handle. I realized the music had stopped playing: the old wire broken. But that didn’t matter now. 9:46 pm. I rushed up, my head dizzy before again, sprinting down the wet lawn. Blood pounded in my ears, the heavy storm once bathing me in rain was gone, leaving me to my thoughts. Up the three cement stairs I ran, arm extended in a rush to grab at the flimsy nod. He was awake, there was no doubt about it. There was no use in sneaking in either. The first screen door flung open, then the next. I walked inside, head turning to his stoic figure, who was out of his chair and in front of me. Unlike the food cart lady who looked down at me with her kind greedy face, his expression was unreadable. That was the worst part.

My slightly parted mouth could speak no words, I only stood there, submissively lowering my line of sight from his judging brown eyes. My grown out fingernails dug hardly into my palms, my other hand gripping tightly against the umbrella. In a quick motion Bryan's hand raised, and I flinched, shielding my face. I stood there for a moment before opening my eyes. He was pointing to my room. I walked off slowly, knowing I’d see him later.

Crying would do me no good. I held back any tears, entering my mostly empty room besides a small mattress on the floor, a walk in closet with a unhinged door, and a small nightstand for my schoolwork. As he liked it I left the door parted, placing my umbrella against the wall, taking off my old sneakers. My feet were cold as they touched the bare carpet, pointed in the direction of my bed. Taking off my sweatshirt and tossing it aside, my exhausted limbs fell to the air mattress, and I allowed myself to huddle in my sheets. I laid there, even my small white spaghetti strapped tank top soaked through. Headphones broke, I quickly tossed them in my nightstand drawer. Still though, I wished to listen to the band. It wasn’t the unreadable words that peaked my interest, but the loud bass and metal guitar that I liked so much about it. It gave me a sense of power. I untucked myself from the sheets, I was still shivering though not of cold. Grabbing a in half pencil and my backpack, I pulled out my English assignment, a timeline titled My Future. I smiled warmly at the end of the timeline, a small drawn airplane and an old sentence I wrote about flying off to Sweden- a false hope, though if I told myself enough times it was true, I grew to believe it.

Falling asleep between then I don't recall.. But I remember waking up as the floorboards to my room creaked. I had memorized by now which creak was which board exactly. Bryan was only a few steps out. I heard him pause by my door, and I kept my eyes shut tightly. My arms were crossed over my see-through shirt, a defense mechanism perhaps a school therapist would say. I hoped he’d stay out.. I always did. But he didn’t. Again, another creak, then the sound of his uncaring footsteps hitting the carpet of my cream-white flooring. He didn’t care if I was awake or not. But it was better if he wasn’t. I heard him call my name, in which I replied with nothing. Another step. Another. I was facing the opposite of him, I could hear his breath closing in. Distracting myself in any way possible, I settled with the old drawing that he wanted me to hang. It was a drawing that my past self made in a younger grade. A stick figure drawing of a girl and a guy, me and Bryan. Except in this version, through poor handwriting by my old crayons, the label read ‘father.’