Fragments - Flash Anthology

Twenty-Three

I never told anyone this story.

I drove up an hour and a half from Mukilteo. Up there, just next to the border of Canada, was a university town where some of the most homeless people lived in once place in the US--at least, back in 2013. It was winter. And all I had was a car.

The drive was simple. I had no other choice of where to go. But it wasn't to be homeless, not yet. That would come later.

No, I went up North to live with an old friend. An old girlfriend. My first girlfriend. And someone who I hadn't talked with much in years, in almost ten years.

She was just a friend, if even that. She was the only one who would offer me a place to stay, too.

The wind threw my hair about as I drove with the windows down in my beat-up 2001 Hyundai Accent--the kind of rusted old green monster that was about 10k to buy brand new, and 1k when I got it. But it was my new safety net and my only lifeline that I could rely on.

So, as I drove up to meet my friend, I jammed out to some J-pop and classic rock. And probably Linkin Park, too. Of course, the speakers were blasting at max volume, fighting with the rushing 80 mph winds.

It wasn't a time to be sad, even though my parents would only offer a night. It wasn't a time to worry that I had to run away from my last room that I rented at an overstuffed home with two couples and two random others already eating up all the available space. It wasn't a time to fret over the loss of work--the reason why I couldn't stay at the last place.

It was music and the drive.

But that ended.

I arrived in the town. My music was nearly off at this point. Instead, I was on the phone with my friend, trying to coordinate where I should go. She gave directions that were a bit confusing--the streets were named after the states, and there was a severe lack of order and numbers so that I could more easily follow some sort of patter. But, I made it, eventually.

Her home was a split house that looked older than I was. She welcomed me into the small, one-story half that she lived in and introduced me to her roommate (another girl at around 20), the cat, and then her rats. The rats were very cute, but the cat was a bit prissy, as many cats like to be.

It was a nice little place, a bit dirty but certainly cleaner than I kept my room. I felt bad staying at such a place, mostly because it seemed too small even for the two of them.

So, I stayed for a week at Alex's place. It was strange, talking with an old highschool girlfriend on a completely different path than before. She seemed far more on the right road in life than I was, even than I am today. But I knew her as a young underclass friend that I ended up falling in love with. Yet she remembered those days better than I did. I pointed out a set of manga to her and said I loved that series, and then she told me it was me who had shown her them--in fact, they were my manga that I had given her.

It's strange what time can do to you.

At the week's end, she had to tell me that she couldn't have me there anymore.

It wasn't anything much, but I'll never know if her words were the truth. All she could tell me was, "I can't . . . you know, do private things."

I lived in my car for a month after that, and found work, and then found a place to live. And things got better.

But I'll never forget how strange and surreal that week was. And how strange I felt to think back and realize how much of my life seemed gone.