23// "You Can Always Take More Than Nothing"

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23// “You Can Always Take More Than Nothing”

I don’t remember the car trip being this long. On the way to the institute I remember being home with a bandage on my arm that had already been soaked in blood, Mom getting a call and her turning to me with a look of pain, tears welling in her dark eyes as she nodded her head to the voice on the phone. Before I knew it my things were packed and I was officially living in the institute. But now as Mom drove along the freeway the time passed like an eternity. Her hands taunt on the steering wheel, knuckles whiter than Alisa’s skin, her mouth moving slightly like she wanted to say something, like Cherry used to do.

I was pressed up against the door of the car, my head resting in my hand, the silence becoming too great for me to hold together any longer,
“Mom, just ask me” I said finally in the most nonchalant tone I could muster. Alisa’s curls and beautiful dresses kept coming to mind whenever my mind wandered. Her sad expression in the rearview mirror as I drove away. She had never looked for vulnerable. My question to her still hanging in the air.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?
Even I didn’t know. I just wanted to know if she would ever try and find me to give me an answer which I wouldn’t tell her whether she was correct or not. Finally Mom stopped acting like a dying goldfish and spoke,
“Who was that girl?” her voice was laced with uncertainty.
“Which one? The colour coded strawberry blonde, the dark one who smells of smoke and alcohol or the crazy schizophrenic who seems to think that I’m a Mad Hatter?” my own words rendered me speechless. My eyes widened a little, I never talked to my own mother like that.
“Sorry” I mumbled against my lips sheepishly.
“No, no honey don’t be. I meant the girl who was looking at you like she was in love” I heard her grin and I rolled my eyes.

When mothers point out something that is definitely true to their kids, it seems almost natural for us to all deny it. Even if our efforts are hopeless, we don’t like our mothers to know who we like.
“Do you love her?” Mom asked a little more delicately. I sat up in my chair my mouth falling open.
“What? No! Of course not—well, maybe—I don’t know” I rambled, getting uncomfortable.
“You’re blushing” Mom pointed a finger at my hot cheeks. I resisted the urge to feel just how warm they were when I refrained,
“I’m not blushing” I seethed, irritated, “it’s hot”

Mom left it at that for a few minutes, although her smile never left her mouth. I sat back in my chair and closed my eyes, were we home yet? You’ll never be home, a small voice chirped in the back of my mind. Home is where Alisa is.
“What’s her name?” Mom asked after a long stretch of silence. I combed a hand through my hair nervously.
“Alisa” I said, “but we all call her Alice” I added with a grin. Mom frowned and side glanced me while we were waiting at the lights.
“Why Alice? Doesn’t she like her real name?” Mom prodded.
“She doesn’t even know that’s her name. She has schizophrenia, she believes that she’s in Wonderland” I told her, my throat suddenly becoming thick and claggy, like I couldn’t spit the words out if I tried.

Mom didn’t say anything just watched me calmly as the cars in the other lane went by in a rush. Oh normal life. If this was ever going to feel normal again. Three months in a crazy home does weird shit to you. I turned to Mom just as she extended her arm and took my chin in two fingers like she used to do when I was a kid.
“I really missed you Michael, the house is quiet without you there” her eyes were welling up with tears again as she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. I bit back tears of my own and Mom turned back to the road and we were finally in familiar territory as we turned into our neighbourhood.

This part of town was quite a lazy place, everyone knew each other which made my efforts of concealment and privacy all in vain. There was always someone mowing the lawn or watering their flowers, walking their dog or families riding bikes. Most of the houses looked the same with a very simple tile or wooden make for each house. Unfortunately for us our house was almost completely made from wood, accept for the tiles in the kitchen and bathrooms, rugs in each of the bedrooms.

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