Torn Tears

Practically Stray

With a quick hug, Lucas leaves to go to work.

"I'll be home around 5:30," he says as he closes the door.

"See you then, Lucas James." I mumble.

I could die of frustration. I remembered Pop Tarts and not his middle name. Pop Tarts.  Of all the things to remember, Pop Tarts.

The soap is somewhat better because it's him. At least, a part of him. Apparently, I stole his soap frequently. 

Little soap thief.

I smile at the affection that was in his voice.

I would like to think that I would have high enough standards that I wouldn't fall for a boy so quickly after meeting him. But this is Lucas. I know him.

Knew. Getting to know him.

Verb tenses are tricky with that boy.

I know him, but not really. I knew him, certainly. 

I like him. But I loved him, wholeheartedly.

I can feel him, constantly, just under the surface of my mind. I sense him buried deep in the folds of my brain, beneath the skin of my fingers, hidden in the tissues of my lips.

He's in every good part of my past. His smile is perfectly familiar with no need for prompting.

They could not take it.

I let Lucas convince me to stay home today on the condition that he would take me out this weekend to look for a job.

Now, barely five minutes on my own and I'm going out of my mind.

I have two whole days by myself in this house.

I will not ransack Lucas's room.

I will not. I will not.

I change the water in Bruce's tank, causing him to swim in spasmodic circles and dashes when I put him back in.

"Sorry, Bruce," I mutter.

I mop the kitchen floor, vacuum the living room, clean the bathroom.

I shower, scrubbing fiercely with Lucas's soap in an attempt to keep tears and images of blood out of my mind. The bright pink color my skin turns under the hot water is too close. I'm out in five minutes which is two minutes longer than last time. According to Lucas, I've never taken longer than twenty minutes in the shower. My goal is to get to fifteen which is close enough to normal.

After my shower, I give in and read from my notebook.

April 17, 2017

My parents threatened to kick me out today. They said I was just a drain of their money.

Oh my. That's why Lucas was so adamant when he said I wasn't a leech, I couldn't be because he thought of me too pleasantly. My parents thought of me as a thing money and food was thrown away on. Lucas would never want me to put him in the same category as my parents.

And I never could. All things point to him being my harbor, my haven.

For the hundredth time, Lucas saved me from hurting myself with a single text:

Wanna catch a movie?

Immediately, I replied:

Yes. I'll be ready and waiting when you pick me up.

Great! Can't wait to see you.

We didn't make it to the movies. On the way, I spotted a dog nosing around in a trash can.