Runaway

My hands are shaking as I grip the candy wrapper. My hair covers the light as I try to read. I can’t let go now. Not when I’m so close.

I stare at the numbers. They swirl together, and I’m not sure if it’s my own hesitation or the blurriness of clouds.

Rain pelts my car windows and batters against buildings. I remember another night like this, when the moon glistened and then dimmed. Another night like this, where I felt the uncertainty of a decision I was about to make.

Whatever, I’m done with living in this constant downpour of dread and misery. I look back at the candy wrapper. I read the numbers out loud to myself. The order seems familiar. Never mind, it’s probably my subconscious trying to persuade me out of this.

The digits are gargled as I reread them out loud to myself. This is it. No going back. The beeping of each tap only makes me feel worse. 

Anxiety washes over me as the phone rings. Once. Twice. Three times. No answer. Why am I relieved? Am I making a big mistake?

No, no, no, I tell myself. This is what I have to do. I can’t keep living in the shadow of someone else’s dream for me. I’m done.

I dial in the numbers again. I call again. No one answers, again. I remember another time when no one answered me, not on a call, but in the solitary atmosphere of my own home.

No one had listened then. Even if I ran back, would they invite me in? Would they welcome me with open arms and hug me tight like they used to?

Or would they look down upon me with disgrace, shame, humiliation, written all over their faces? Would they tell me I was an embarrassment to the family legacy?

Of course they would. They don’t care a shred about my well-being. It’s not like I want them to. Right?

I call again. This is the last straw. If my phone doesn’t stop ringing and I don’t hear a person’s voice, I will personally go to the alley and track him down. He cannot expect me to pay such a great amount for a candy wrapper!

“Hello?” A soft female voice says. I freeze. This is it. The moment of truth. I’ve been waiting for this, right?

“The piano plays a tune?” I respond. I hate that it sounds more like a question. Toughen up, Arya, isn’t this what you want?

“Does the piano know what tune to play?” The voice answers. What? He never said anything about that part. What do I do?

“Umm… maybe?” I sigh. Why did I sign up for this? What if he finds out that the check is fake? Will he track me down? By then, I should’ve been up and gone, but if this doesn’t work, then what?

“Very well. 118 RedSprings Ave. Midnight. Don’t. Be. Late.” She hangs up as I try to process what just happened.

118 RedSprings Ave. Midnight. Don’t. Be. Late. Oh. My. GOD. I quickly write it down with a pen on the candy wrapper. I’m pressing down so firmly that the paper rips a little.

I drive out of the parking lot and down a couple of streets. Lights from the ramshackle buildings flicker. On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.

It’s giving me a headache. I pull into an alley and check the time on my dashboard. Pitter-patter. It’s 10:58 pm. Good.

Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter. “Will you shut up already?!” I yell at the nothingness. There’s nothing soothing about the rain. It only reminds me of my sour mood. It only reminds me of my even more sour situation.

I set an alarm on my phone for 11:30 pm and lay my head down on the passenger's seat. The perpetual sound of the rainfall slowly drowns out the gnawing of my thoughts. 

CRACK! BOOM! So much for rain being comforting.

There’s a distant meowing through the storm. A plea, or distress call. Maybe that cat has lost part of itself too, literally or metaphorically.

Soft scratching noises, and various tap! tap! tap! sounds. The gentle sound of leaves landing in a puddle. I close my eyes and just listen to the sounds of the rain. There’s a melody to the everlasting shhhh. 

The ra-ta-tat-ing flushes the uneasiness away. This is what I escaped for. This never-ending security.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! My head jolts up. Did I say never-ending security? Ha! I’m in a car in the middle of the night in a dark alley with only one exit. Security? Ha!

I turn off my alarm and GPS the address. It’s 13 minutes away. I drive out of the alley and make a right turn. As I navigate the empty streets, my fingers itch to turn on the radio. I could go for a mood lifter right now.

No. I do not need anyone wondering why I’m blasting the radio at full volume in the dead of night. I continue on and then make a left.

These streets are kind of like my life right now. Different turns with only three other options. Sometimes it’s two. Sometimes, it’s only one.

But unlike the streets, there’s no u-turns.

No going back.

Should I? Maybe… no. If they wanted me there so badly, they wouldn’t have let me leave. The memory comes like candles flickering in the basement.

“How can you not be happy?” Mother had asked. “You have everything a girl could want! What more is there?”

“I have everything YOU want for me!” I shouted back. “You have it all laid out for me, all my life until I die! Is that what you think I want?”

“Arya! You cannot speak to your mother that way! Apologize immediately!” Father bellowed.

“No. She doesn’t deserve my apology. And neither do you!”

“As long as you live under this roof, you will do as we say. No more yelling. You are a lucky girl. You have EVERYTHING! You have more than we ever had.” Father said.

“But I don’t have happiness! What is life without laughing and doing the things I love?”

“Arya. No. More. Enough!” Mother yelled.

“Fine! You don’t want me to live my dreams! You want me to stay a prisoner in this dreadful place and rot here. Well, I’m sorry, but I’ve packed my bags, and I’m leaving!”

And then I ran. I was a runaway. They didn’t try to stop me. They didn’t oppose to me grabbing one of the many car keys. They didn’t order anyone to come after me.

It was up to me now. Me. By myself. And I hated myself for doing it. Because truthfully, they would’ve come around. I could see that now. They loved me dearly, they just didn’t want to let me live a life that they had to overcome.

I wipe away a tear from my eye and drive onward. To my new future. But from now on, I’ll know the grass isn’t green on any side.