Chapter Text
It was pretty blurry for me. I don't mean that metaphorically but quite literally. It was a very bright, sunny day with the windows blocked by the sun, preventing any of the world from penetrating through the glass. Grandmama stood worrying like always. Though I don't know why she was standing in the first place, as her knees acted like they couldn't even hold up half of her weight.
So why was Grandmama worrying over her bobbling knees?
Well, for the red-haired and freckle-covered boy with a busted lip and holding the weight of tears in his eyes, of course!
Okay, maybe it wasn't that blurry if I can remember all of that……but maybe it was? I can't remember anything else about the memory. Nothing before or after. It felt like I was staring down a narrow and blinding hallway of just that boy and Grandmama.
But who knows? That could easily be chalked up to a terrible memory. Or be put down to the fact that it was back in the days when I was unknowingly blind and strained my eyes to make myself blinder.
Back in the days when the heat was hot, and life was a little bit more simpler. Y'know, before puberty ruined my body, making my thoughts become consumed by men, and leading my curiosity to dubious subreddits where I heard the true sound of what a man sounds like in pleasure. God knows how many times I've listened to those audios on repeat. All in the sake of “relieving” the stress that came from being the host to the parasite called puberty.
God knows I still listen to them now.
Or it could even be back in the days before Grandmama died (just a possibility). Those bobbling knees were definitely saying something. Either that she was going to fall one day and never get back up or drop dead from a heart attack out of stress.
Like I said before, she always worried.
But that was only 3 years ago, and those days when I spent time with her in the countryside during the summer were over.
Hell, I don't even remember the boy's name anymore.
It was Ethan, I think…
Okay, I lied. But, at least, I don't think about him at every waking and tiring moment of my life. Not like I think about his red hair and freckled face. Or how puffy and red his eyes were from the downpour of his tears.
What was he even crying about in the first place? Were they tears of sadness or some other emotion? Why was his lip swollen and bleeding? Who was he and how the hell am I affiliated with him? Why do I think about this so damn much?
So many questions left unanswered and probably will be left like that until I die. Seems like my terrible eyesight and even more horrible memory was creating a concoction of growing disappointment.
But I'm just not getting it. I was 13 the last time I was there, so I'm not understanding why my memory is that of a 5-year-olds'.
Nevertheless, it left me occupied....I guess……
Especially while mom frantically packed box after box with all the things that made our home "Home."
I mean, how am I going to find my home "Home" when it's surrounded by the vast nothingness of Preston, Idaho, in Fairview, which is an extraordinarily weird place you would want to live in the first place.
No offense, Grandmama.
Moreover, Mom claims that “It's a great place for new opportunities!” But I know that it's code for, “Since Grandmama died and left us her home, and that moving into the city was the worst financial decision I have ever made. You will shut the fuck with all of your complaints and deal with this moving process, okay? Thanks for dying, Mom!”
I wasn't even really mad in the first place when I heard that we were moving. It's not like I had friends who kept me from wanting to leave or something. I just, y'know, don't like to move right after graduating.
I wanted my summer to be full of relaxation and thoughts about whether I would ever be loved or not. Plus, I was going to miss the crackheads and naked, gay, ass-cheeks exposed to the Windy City's cold whip whenever the leather conventions popped up in the beginning of summer.
But nope. Since Auntie Kay Kay and Uncle Boe didn't want the house in the middle of nowhere (and had actual financial stability) Mom didn't waste any time in buying and setting up for the move.
Leaving all that's left was for a long car ride of 20 hours and 44 minutes and mother's terrible singing to Amy Winehouse's "Back to Black."
Yippee!........god I want to kill myself.