Just My Type

1.

  Welcome to Morrison, Indiana, I read as I drive past the welcome sign. I haven't been here in years. The last time I was here, I was burying my dad.

  I always found the size of this town to be perfect. Its not too small, but it's not too big either. Everyone knows each other and their cat. When I was younger, I always thought that to be convenient. But now I understand why my mom made us leave.

  It's not that I'm not excited to be back because I am. I'm just not ready for everyone to ask how I'm doing, how's my mom, are you doing okay. I mean, my sister moved back the moment she turned 18, so if she can handle it then I'm sure I can.

  I'm mostly excited to see my friends. I haven't seen them for six years, and I sure as hell am excited. I always think about them. How are they doing? Do they remember me? Do they miss me? Are they mad at me for leaving?

  The last question is the one I'm most worried about. I left and they probably think that I didn't even bother trying to get a hold of them. I tried everything I could to get a hold of them, but my mom never allowed it.

  I park my car in front of a one-story gray house. It kind of gives off the illusion that it's two stories, but I know it only has one floor.

  I stare out my window for a couple of minutes before taking a deep breath and opening the car door. I grab my miniature backpack that I have to bring with me wherever I go, and make my way up the porch steps.

  Before I can even knock, the door flys open and I'm tackled by my one and only sister, Anna. She hugs me tight while squealing about how much she missed me. My sister is only four years older than me, so we were pretty close when we were young.

  "I missed you too, Anna, but I still don't like being touched." I inform her and she quickly let's go. It's not that I'm a germaphobe or anything. I just don't like being touched.

  "Oops, sorry," she apologizes. "Come on in! Do you need help with your stuff?"

  "Nah," I wave her off. "I only brought a duffle bag filled with my clothes."

  "That's all? Charles, you're staying here for a year." I roll my eyes at the nickname she gave me when I was four. She never calls me Charlie only Charles.

  "I know, but I don't own a lot of clothes and I wear the same stuff everyday, anyways." I gesture down to my baggy, black joggers along with one of my oversized hoodies.

  That's all I wear because it hides my figure. It hides me.

  She eyes me up and down while shaking her head, but doesn't say anything as she goes to my red Volkswagen Beetle and takes my bag out of the passengers seat.

  I love my car. I loved her so much that I named her Ladybug, but that's only because she used to have black dots all over her. They've fallen off over the years.

  I amble through the front door and enter what I'm going to be calling home for a year. The front door leads to a living room that has two sliding doors beside it that I'm guessing leads to Anna's room.

  She walks in behind me with the strap of my duffle bag resting over her shoulder. "Follow me, I'll show you to your room," she nods her head to a wide entryway that leads into the dining room.

  As I follow her into the entryway, I notice a wooden, circular table resting in the middle of the dining room. There's a lit candle resting in the middle of it, allowing the room to smell like lilacs.

  I've never really seen Anna's house before now. Only when we were on FaceTime with each other, but this is the first time I'm seeing it in person.