Scar Tissue

one: tell me baby

tell me baby, what's your story?
where you come from
and where you wanna go this time?
- red hot chili peppers, tell me baby

"How does it feel?" Sarah asked, wasting no time in shoving a few boxes aside so she could flop down onto my bed. "To be back, of course. I already know seeing me fills you with immense joy."

I smiled sweetly at my cousin. "The differentiation wasn't necessary. Both fill me with the same level of sadness."

Sarah grinned at me and I couldn't help but smile back. Although she had flown to Arizona and visited me while I was at school, it had been four years since we had both been back in my bedroom at home. When I told her I would be coming home, she had written the details down immediately, promising to be there the second my parents pulled into the driveway with me. And because Sarah never said anything  she didn't fully mean, she was there, sitting on the outdoor patio, arms flailing when she spotted the car.

"Weird," I admitted, pulling open a cardboard box full of band shirts and lugging it over to my empty closet, "but temporary, remember? Arizona was too pricey to stay while I waited for a job. Once I get a job, I'm back out as quickly as I came here."

"Your joy at being back home makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside," Sarah cradled my pillow against her chest and I rolled my eyes. "I have a question, but I know you're not going to like it."

Those were never words that someone wanted to hear. I paused, wrapping a Pink Floyd shirt around my hands, taking my time to turn back to Sarah. My cousin was as loud-mouthed and blunt as they came, so if she was pausing before asking a question, that meant something. Although I was almost positive I knew what she was going to ask - and, if I was right, then it was absolutely not something I liked.

I swallowed and turned around, keeping the shirt clenched between my hands. "Shoot."

She nodded her head to the right, towards the house next to mine, towards the window which just so happened to face my window. There was a time - that didn't seem so long ago - when I used to be so grateful for the windows facing each other. Now, I wished there was curtains thicker than concrete that existed to separate us.

"Did you see him?"

"Nope," I replied quickly, wanting to shut the topic down as soon as possible. It wasn't a lie; I hadn't seen him. I also hadn't been looking, either. "Different topic."

She held her hands up defensively. "Just asking. Can't blame me for being curious."

"No," I agreed, "but I can punch you for it."

"You can try," Sarah snorted and pushed herself off the bed, coming to sit on the floor with me, "but you are weak and frail and I kick-box. It would end very badly for you."

I flexed my bicep defensively, even though there wasn't anything to flex. "Weak and frail is an exaggeration," I complained, and, at the look on her face, weakly added, "at least frail is. I'm twenty-two, not eighty-two."

Sarah laughed and we fell into silence then, occupying ourselves with emptying boxes and turning my old bedroom back into mine. When I had left for Arizona state, I promised myself I wouldn't return back home. Wouldn't return back to the bad memories, that I was leaving all of that behind. Arizona was going to be a new start for me, and I would keep going from there, never looking back.

My parents had visited me as often as they could, and I took summer classes nearly every semester, giving my family reasons why I couldn't fly back. Even though they never said anything, I knew they knew why. It was one of those don't ask, don't tell situations. And while it was hard not coming back home, I had done it. I had gone my entire college career in Arizona, and had pushed every terrible memory to the back of my mind.