A Starting Point

CHAPTER EIGHT- A DIRECTION

Heloyse

A lady had given me a ride and when she asked me where I was going, I just said "wherever you go". She looked at me with a nice smile on her face and looked back at the road.

"OK! I just won't be able to take you to your escape. My destination is an hour and a half from here."

"No problem!"

"Don't you want to know where we're going?"

"Not! I think it's better not! Wherever this path takes me is fine."

I had never left Boston after I started living there. And at twenty-six, I realized that I just used my life to work. There were few times when I went out to have fun. I just worked or lived with Michael. Now, I realize that life was going on and I hadn't enjoyed anything.

An hour and a half later, the lady, whose name I didn't even bother to ask, left me on a road and left, waving and wishing me a good trip. I returned the wave and started walking.

The long road was lit by the midday sun. I had already walked before the lady gave me a ride and now, I noticed that my legs felt tired. I wasn't used to taking long walks.

Along the side of the road, I walked without caring about the weather or the signs. My arms were sore from the suitcase, so I sat down on a bench at the bus stop and decided to get some rest. Minutes later, I went to a roadside restaurant and had my meal. After the meal, I walked some more.

I spotted an empty playground. I approached a bench and sat down. I watched a lone bird crawl across the sky. Such a small bird in a big world. I felt like this.

I stayed there for hours and hours, watching the people, the children... Complete strangers with their ordinary, strange, troubled or overly good lives.

I took a picture of my parents when they were still young, from inside my backpack. My brother was smiling and I was hiding behind my mother. I remembered Marcus defending me on the street, at school. I missed my father's hugs, my mother's advice, Michael's kisses. I was alone. I wasn't prepared to lose any of them.

It had been a long time since they'd been gone, but it still hurt like it was fresh. Maybe if Michael hadn't been with me when I lost my family, I would have run away a long time ago.

While many ran away from home because they couldn't tolerate their parents, I would have run away because I didn't have them anymore. I would have crossed an ocean to get away from the pain I felt.

I kept looking at my photos with Michael on my cell phone and decided to delete them one by one. And with each photo I deleted, a sob escaped my mouth. And the last one, I watched for quite some time. It was the picture of him sleeping. That day had been our first time.

I deleted it too.

The afternoon was already falling and I returned to the road. I walked and walked, until I reached the darkness. On the road, tears fell. I didn't know what I was looking for, I didn't know what I was going to find ahead. Maybe I didn't find anything, however, inside me, I wanted to find a motivation, something to distract myself, somewhere that would do me good.

I thought about sitting down at the next spot. The first bus that passed I would get on.

Tears welled up in my eyes. I thought I had cried all of them, but I was wrong. All that pain started coming out of me in big waves and suddenly, I was standing on the side of the road, sobbing and trying to stop them from falling. I was tired of crying so much. I had reached the limit.

I cried "liters", for several months.

If I could count all the tears I've shed, it would never come to fruition. Could an ocean compete with them?