Life Will Out

3

The haze of the drugs makes everything feel surreal. I did a few more hits with Ruby, and now I'm really out of it. But I've overstayed my welcome, so I gather my things and slip out quietly, heading towards my bike. "Man, I really wish I had a car. Next time, I'm taking the car," I think to myself, but then remember, "No, no, I can't take the car, that's Dad's."Riding home, the sunset is stunning, its colors painting the sky with hues of purple and yellow. I get to the house and carelessly ditch my bike on the front lawn before stumbling inside. As soon as I enter, I see my family in the kitchen, working on dinner. Nancy's the first to ask, "Where have you been, Amy?" and Mom adds, "We were worried sick.""Sorry, guys, I needed a meeting, so I rode my bike across town to the one with the shitty coffee," I lie.Kathleen, always quick to call me out, says, "She's lying. She's so high she can touch God right now." I can't help but laugh, giving away the truth. "You are correct," I admit, and everyone's jaws drop."Amelia Frances Shepherd, are you on drugs?" Mom demands.Snapping back to reality, I quickly respond, "What? No." "You just said you were high," Liz points out.Derek crosses his arms, giving me that look I know too well. I try to cover up, "I meant like a runner's high, you know... from all the cardio from cycling." My words are slow, almost slurring."She's high, Mom, look at her pupils," Kathleen says, Derek shoots a look at Kathleen, silently urging her to be quiet.Mom walks over and looks into my eyes. "Oh, dear Lord. You're right," she gasps."Amelia! What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?" she asks."Me? What do I have to say... um..." In a moment of clarity, or maybe just defiance, I say, "Life is short, enjoy the ride." I turn to walk away, but she grabs my coat."Don't touch me, you stupid evil bitch!" I snap."Woah, Amelia," Derek intervenes. "Go, leave. Go to school. I mean, Derek, truly, what are you even doing here?""I told you, I came to pick something up," he replies.I put my hand on my head, pacing, the room spinning. "I need to leave.""And go where?" Mom asks."I need to get higher. I need something stronger. I'm sorry, I have to go." Without waiting for a response, I rush out the door and run towards the bus stop. With only about five dollars left, I set aside two for the bus fare, my mind racing, consumed by the need to escape this reality. The disappointment, the confrontation, the pain – it all pushes me further away, seeking solace in the one thing I know will numb it all, even if just for a little while.

As the bus rolls towards New York City, I find myself in a conversation with Sam, the quiet, dark-complexioned man sitting beside me. The bus's interior is a blur of blue seats with abstract patterns, marred by the stains of countless previous journeys. Sam, noticing my distracted state, ventures a conversation."Off to a rocky start?" he asks, breaking the silence."I guess," I respond noncommittally."I'm Sam," he introduces himself, extending a polite hand.I shake it, offering a small smile. "Amelia.""So, where are you off to, Amelia?" he inquires."New York City, to clear my mind," I reply, feeling a bit of irony in my words.Sam raises an eyebrow, "Amelia, I'm from New York, and I can assure you, your mind will not be clear there." "Maybe for you, but I have my ways," I say, hinting at the darker side of my journey without really saying it. He nods, understanding not to probe further. "Are you in school?" he changes the subject."Yeah, high school. I have fantastic grades, surprisingly," I admit, a hint of pride in my voice despite my current state."Surprisingly?" he echoes."Mhmm, yeah. I have a few character flaws that would usually impair someone's ability to make rash decisions. But in regards to school, I've made no mistakes there. None. What about you?" I ask, genuinely curious."I go to Bowdoin, up in Maine," he replies."I'm familiar, my brother goes there," I say, thinking of Derek."Really? What's his name?" "Derek. Derek Shepherd," I tell him. "Wait, Derek Shepherd?" Sam looks surprised. "That's your brother? He's relentless about his valedictorian position. I've heard of him." "Yeah, that's him. Mr. Smarty 'wanna-be-neurosurgeon' pants," I say with a mix of sarcasm and affection. Sam chuckles, "Oh, so it all comes together." The conversation flows easily, a welcome distraction from the turmoil in my mind. As the city approaches, I'm left with a mix of apprehension and a strange sense of freedom. The thought of escaping into the anonymity of New York City, even if just for a short while, gives me a fleeting sense of relief. Sam's presence, his easygoing nature, is oddly comforting as I step into the unknown, seeking an escape from the realities I'm not ready to face.