The Way We Burn

Two: Gigi

I don't think I released the breath that I was holding until I walked through the front door of my thankfully silent house. Yes, I'd lied to Sully when I said that my roommate would be worried and waiting for me, but I... I honestly panicked. I mean A: I hadn't had a roommate since I bunked with my sister at my parents' house when we were children, and B: there was only one creature waiting for me, and she surely couldn't have voiced any sort of concern to anyone.

"I know, I know," I hummed as Goblin, my year-old canine companion barked her excitement at my arrival. "I'm sorry baby," I cooed as she damn near bowled me over, the whole back half of her body wiggling with pure joy as she sought pets and loves and whatever else I was willing to dole out.

Goblin had really only been in her kennel barely more than an hour, despite how dramatic she was currently being. My best friend, Ella, lived on the other side of the duplex, and she worked from home, so she cared for Goblin when I was out. it was kind of our own shared doggy custody arrangement. It had only been at most ninety minutes since she'd texted me that she'd put the hyperactive Rottweiler in her kennel and was headed to bed, but apparently it had been a huge affront to Goblin's delicate sensibilities.

"Okay, okay, your highness," I grumbled teasingly as I opened the back door she'd been pawing at. I swung my arm out into the black of night. "The world is your oyster. Be free."

Goblin gave me a bark of delight before she charged into the barely lit back yard without a single care in the world except where she was about to pee.

I shivered as I pulled the door back shut and clicked on my electric kettle for tea. That dog was a psycho. It was fucking frigid out right now. I had not re-acclimated to Michigan winters yet. I'd lived in Tucson for the last two years, and needless to say, teeth chattering cold was no longer in my blood. But Goblin was having the time of her life. She seemed to really enjoy the single digit temperatures and tried to eat every snowflake that fell from the sky, so I was on my own with those complaints.

It had been eleven years since I turned eighteen and hightailed it out of Detroit like my ass was on fire. I'd come back for random visits and a few holidays, but it was never for more than a couple days at a time. It had been a very long time (if ever) that I felt like I belonged here and if I was being honest, I hadn't even wanted to move back when I did. My mom calling and telling me she had breast cancer... whether I wanted to or not, I was coming home. I needed to. For her. All five of my older sisters had families and illustrious careers that they couldn't just drop and... I didn't. Mom needed help and I was the only one for the job, so hello Michigan winters.

I'd always been the odd duck in my family. All of my sisters were brilliant and preppy and excelled at every fucking thing they did, and I just didn't. Nor did I ever really care about doing so. I was just the quiet, book-ish goth girl that nobody believed they were actually related to. I'm not saying that my parents didn't adore me, they absolutely did. I had a wonderful childhood and I had more than I could've ever asked for. I was just... different. I wanted different things, a different life than the quote unquote 'American Dream' that all my sisters and even my parents had created. I wanted to roam the earth without societal and familial expectations holding me back. All of my sisters were married (aside from Amaya, who was engaged) and had two point five kids, a golden retriever, and a white picket fence in various suburbs across the contiguous United States. But me?

The two years I lived in Tucson were the longest I'd ever lived in one place since I left my parents' house. I had worked odd jobs, mostly bartending... except the one year in Cincinnati when I'd tried stripping on for size, but my parents definitely didn't know about that. I'd lived all over the country. I'd even spent about six months living in Mexico. Goblin was the closest thing to a child or a stable romantic partner that I had ever had, and I had absolutely no interest in living differently than that. I loved my life. I loved being free of boundaries and expectations. I loved not being locked down in one single place, with one single person doing the same thing day in and day out. I loved being free. My parents, however, thought that the way I lived meant that they had somehow failed me and now, here I was, some dark, demented, possibly gay, devil-worshipping harlot who marched around looking like she'd recently fallen victim to Dracula himself. Most of that wasn't true, except for the harlot part. And... I guess I was at least a little bit gay. I'd dated women before, so they weren't ENTIRELY wrong, but they weren't really right either. They saw me as the one that needed fixing, and now that I had returned to Detroit, it was their opportunity to do so, whatever that entailed.