Our fathers were best friend's, colleagues in the market of new faces and huge boobs, Ana's mom was a total vixen, a retired model that once dabbled in Maxim. It didn't make sense why she settled for such a dweeb like John. But what did make sense was the arranged marriage that had become Ana and Tom. I was happy for them, the last I had seen Tom he was just graduating from our very expensive, very private high school.

'Flight 214 now boarding'

The robotic bitch of a voice said for the first time since I had arrived. Almost as if my dad and the robot were in cahoots my cell phone vibrated in my pocket once again. I knew it was him without even looking because he called me the moment I left this morning.

After last night, it all came into focus, the event of coming back to New York had blurred it. I wasn't cut out for here, I didn't belong. The more he called the worse I felt, he had a fine way of manipulating my conscience.

My thumb hovered over the end button on the screen of my phone, I was so close but then the mocking voice in the back of my head pleaded for me to at least give him an explanation as to why I had left.

"Hey dad" I answered, holding the phone to my ear as my other hand went back into the pocket of my military jacket.

"Harry, where are you? You're going to give your mother a heart attack!" his voice was gruff on the other line, the remains of sleep not yet leaving him.

It would be the most cowardly thing to tell your father that you had left because you couldn't stand the wrath of your older brother. If I was successful in leaving I would call Tom many weeks from now after a long night of drinking to tell him that I was sorry.

My mother would call me beforehand with a tremor in her voice explaining how worried she was for me. The problem was that I cared to the point that it made me sick, that I was stupid and never learned from my past mistakes.

"I am at the airport" the answer was simple, tapping my foot anxiously I watched as people began to board.

"Why? You promised your mother you would stay for a couple of months. We want to help you get back on your feet" my fathers' voice was full of desperation, the mention of money made my stomach turn.

Sighing I ran my hand through my hair, "I don't fit her dad, it's better for everyone if I leave".

I braced myself for the motivational speech that was to come from my father.

"Running away from your problems won't help you, Harry" he was right, I couldn't think of a time when he had been wrong. Leaving the city never solved anything, I was thankful that he hadn't brought up the incident from last night.

The conversation ended the way conversations usually did and as I made my way closer to the gate I could no longer ignore the voice in the back of my head. It mocked back at everything my father had just said, without much more thought I found myself in the back of a dingy smelling cab hurling through the narrow spaces in downtown New York.

My parents were the type of parents that kids dreamed of having, they threw money at me in the hopes that I would someday accept their way of life.

The taxi stopped in front of a tall, wide apartment building that was more in rent every month than most peoples mortgages.

Begrudgingly, I left the cab taking my large leather shoulder bag with me as I left. The doorman greeted me with a tip of his hat as I made my way through the fancy revolving doors. The lobby was grand, which I didn't quite understand. The idea of presenting a precursor that had nothing to do with the large condo above didn't make any sense.

The elevator played jazz versions of rock songs as it climbed the many levels of the concrete shoot. It was then as I looked at my reflection in the mirrored elevator door that I remembered why I left early this morning.

Everything made me sick.

I didn't feel sorry for myself, I didn't expect anyone else to either. I made my choices and now I had to deal with the consequences. I was smart, smarter than most, which is why I never understood why I went through with the thought process of doing something horrible.

The apartment was white, the furniture that my parents had bought not yet brought in. A mattress that sadly laid in the room off to the left haunted me with the events of last night.

After drunkenly crashing my brother's engagement party I wandered the streets until I found a young lady that hated herself enough to sleep with me. She was smart, the mattress was cold by her absence before I woke.

I was a spoiled child at times, I couldn't stand that once again my brother's life was falling into place. He was marrying the girl that one time very long ago- a time I choose to forget-was my best friend.

Alexandria was painfully beautiful, which made me all the more jealous. Ana and Tom would live happily ever after even if he was a stick in the mud.

Pulling the heavy jacket off, I rested it on the marble island in the kitchen. A box full of my things sat on the floor, my foot hitting it on the way into the bedroom. I could only guess that my mother had dropped it off this morning just to realize that I had left. It didn't take her long to figure out exactly where I had gone, the same place I always went, the airport.

Crouching down, I grabbed the dilapidated box hoisting it against my chest, it had been moved so many times that it was now moments away from breaking apart. Curiosity sparked the confines of my mind, with shaky hands, the result of nerves getting the best of me, I sifted through the items.

It was full of things that I had collected through my twenty-three years of life. A baseball glove that my brother gave to me when we were five. A time when he actually liked me, and a broken rosary that my grandmother gave to me when I had an actual interest in organized religion.

The more I looked the more depressed I became, it was shards of a past life that I no longer was a part of. A life that made me happier than the one I currently lived. A white piece of paper with a curled edge stuck out of an old journal that I would write brooding thoughts in. With the intent of a good laugh, I grabbed the journal ready to tear the piece of paper from the spine.

Instead, a picture of her came out, the woman that started it all. My own Mrs. Robinson.

To Harry may you find exactly what you're looking for.

xx Jeanie

Her perfect cursive that had been burned into my brain was written on the blank side of the picture. A small smile came across my face as I remembered just how wild she was, a certain wildness that her stiff hardworking husband couldn't tame, but I could.

Most didn't have sex with fifteen-year-old brooding boys but then again not many people did what she did in general. She was the reason I left, but she wouldn't be the reason I stayed. Nobody could let your past define you, not even the people of upper East Side New York.

I'm not sure how long I stared at the picture of her, but the longer I looked the more it felt as if she was talking to me from the beyond. I had to make things right, I had to start by saying sorry for the scene I caused last night.

There was only one person that would accept my calls after a few hours of harassing.

Ana hated me, but she had to forgive me, after all, we were family.

© 2017, thirteen13blue

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