The Pavement on a Sidewalk

Ch. 4

I sit in my room in silence recalling yesterday's events.  In Taylor's hoodie.  

"I'm going to the supermarket.  Need anything?" My mother yells from downstairs.

"NOOO."  I yell back.

The door slams shut and I am alone.  Finally.

I pull the front of the sweatshirt up so it covers half my face.  I breathe in that wonderful smell.

Have you ever noticed how everyone has a certain smell?  you can't describe it any other way besides the fact that it smells like that person.  

Well Taylor has one of those smells.  Except I can describe it in other ways.  It smells like safety.  When I smell it I feel safe.  When he was carrying me in the park that day, I only remember feeling safe because of that wonderful smell in his hoodie.

I have been sitting in my room smelling this smell for over two hours.  And I can't get enough.

I guess my life just feels so unsafe that I can't stop this addiction to the feeling of safety.

I look around my room cautiously.  A bed, closet, and chair come into my site.  It's not much, but it's enough to pass as a bedroom. 

Me and my mom are really poor.  After my dad left when I was 9, apparently he took out all of our funds in my college money bank account.  And then he hit the road.  Simple as that.

Basically what that means is that we have no money and we were left with the little insurance money my mom was given after he left.

Another thing that happened when I was 13...we found out that my dad was living on the streets because he refused to take his schizophrenia medication.  Oh yeah, and he also has schizophrenia. Then, about a month after that, he was found dead on the streets.

The cops call it a hit and run because they think he was mugged and killed.  I don't believe it for a second.  No way he had anything on him that was worth stealing.  In my entire life, I have never believed he was worth anything to anybody.

For all I care, he can rot in the ground and I won't shed a tear.  That man did too much to make my life miserable and only now do I wish I could go back and tell him that.

Okay, back to Taylor.  Mmmmmm....TAYLOR....

My mouth starts to water as I hum his name to the sound of the music on my iPod.  

Oh yeah, I have an iPod but that it pretty much the only valuable thing I own.  It took my three years working at this lame-ass pet shop to earn the money to buy it.  And it's beat up as all hell.  Like, I mean, It's all dinged up.  It has almost no battery, ever.  The only thing valuable about it?  The music. I'd say I have about four thousand songs on it.  Except I can't afford all that 99 cent crap so I just got it of this music sharing website.  Yeah, sure it's not right.  But my music saves me and that is really all that matters.  

The perfect song comes on as these ideas are circling in my brain: 

"Father, father, tell me where have you been?

Its been hell not having you here

I've been missing you so bad

And you don't seem to care

When I go to sleep at night, you're not there

When I go to sleep at night, do you care?"

Such a great song.  And surprisingly, it doesn't make me cry.  Instead, it makes me stronger.  Have more hate for this man who so willingly ruined my life until the age of 9.