I walked through our small house, searching all the rooms, but she wasn't there. I suppose I knew that already. I had just come home from school, so I sat down to finish up some homework. Once that was done, I got a can of soup from the nearly empty cupboards and heated it up on the stove.
Finally, after staying up till one in the morning waiting for her, I went to bed. It was no use; I knew she wouldn't be back. But still, I couldn't seem to fall asleep knowing I that my mom was out there, in some bar or wandering the streets in a drunk stupor. For all the things she's done wrong in raising me, all the ways she's let me down, I still couldn't push away the worry that came when she disappeared.
After laying in my bed, staring blankly into the dark for what felt like hours, I finally got up and went into the kitchen. The clock said 3:04 am. Pulling on my sneakers, I opened the front door and slipped outside. I went to my car and started the engine, then pulled out into the street. I idled at the corner, trying to decide which way to go. Left would lead me into town, where I could search the bars and streets for my mom, while right would lead me to the highway, which would then go to the long stretches of pasture and old farm houses, before passing into the next state over.
Left. Or right. I looked back an forth. It seemed stupid to even think of going right. Where would I go? My mom probably wouldn't even bother looking for me or notifying the police, but I still didn't have a destination. I'd never even been out of our state, and I didn't know of any relatives that were alive.
Left seemed like the logical choice, the only choice, and yet. And yet. I pulled out of our street, not looking back at the house I had grown in, and turned right. I flipped on the radio, and let the music drown out my thoughts.
Very compelling exposition. It reminds me of Jeannette Walls's book called The Glass Castle.
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