Be My Escape

His bag lay packed, tucked safely under his bed. The list in his head had been double and even triple checked. Now came the excruciating part. Waiting for just the right time of night when his step-mother and father were sleeping their heaviest. He had acquired this knowledge through many years of sneaking out with friends to countless outings. At the time, the bit of information was a luxury. It made life a little more fun for him. Now however, it was an escape.

Anywhere from one-thirty a.m. to four a.m. was when the boisterous snores would float down the hall and through his door. That was the perfect opportunity for him to quietly pull out his small suitcase, sneak stealthily down the hall, and slip out undetected. He had only packed the bare essentials: a couple of fresh changes of clothes, his wallet, iPod, and the keys to his old pickup.

Every few minutes he would allow himself another peek out the window, the moon and few stars that littered the night sky illuminating only a small portion of the outside world. For the past three hours or so, he had simply lain under the royal blue comforter of his bed. The entire time he thought of the possibilities. The options were amazingly vast. He could end up one state over, in New York. Or he could go West, where the lifestyle was so near the same, yet so completely different. There were forty-nine other states; all of them screaming to him, telling of the different lives each could give him. As of now, he was going into this blind; no course or destination was certain in his mind.

He removed a small cell phone from the pocket of his jeans, checking the time one last time before he laid the device down on the bedside table. The screen read, in flashing digits, 2:13. He threw back the thin comforter and eased himself up off the bed. His hands wandered blindly under the bed until the hit the scratched cloth of his bag. Prying the screen off the window was as easy as it had always been, the framed wiring coming loose with a quite pop! He threw one foot out the window, then the other. Soon, he was sliding the window shut from the outside, his bag sitting at his feet.

This was the moment that he had been waiting on for a long time. This was his opportunity to get out. It wasn’t ideal, but it revealed itself as the only way. This was a now or never decision.

He walked down the sidewalk and approached his vehicle.

Nicholas Farrera was choosing now.

&&&

“Honey, hurry up! We’re all waiting on you!” Her mother’s sweet soprano seeped through the open door.

Grace surveyed the room one last time. With it’s creamy walls, plush carpet, and bland furniture, the room hold a certain calmness that was uncharacteristic of teenagers room. The decor of the room was more that of a guest room than that of a semi-permanent tenant. The bare walls had once displayed a few posters. The oak dresser had been covered with books of all sorts. Besides a few random items, that was all that personalized the room. Now even that was gone, all packed safely into storage in southern California.

The sigh she had been holding in finally fell from her lips. She heaved the red duffel bag up on her shoulder and stepped out of the room, closing the door as she went.

A small group had gathered on the porch. All eyes where on her as she stood outside the congregation. Her lips pulled into a small smile. They all knew that this was it. The time had come to say goodbye, at least for a while. A few sad smiles were given in return.

Her mother surged forward, her arms clasping tightly around her daughter. Grace let out a gasp, the air being knocked from her lungs. Awkwardly, she encircled her mother’s torso and patted her back reassuringly. When she extricated herself, she almost regretted it. Her eyes met with a pair of gleaming blue ones, pooling with shining tears.

“Oh, Ma! It’s not like I am dropping off the face of the Earth. I need to do this, okay?”

Marian Kilpatrick looked at her daughter, really looked, searching for even a hint of doubt. There was none to be found. She grasped her daughter’s face, palms against her cheeks. She whispered “Good luck,” before kissing her youngest’s forehead and pulling away.

One after one, friends and family embraced her and said their goodbyes. Tears stained her shirt, blotchy wet spots on the dark fabric. None of those tears were her own. Grace didn’t cry, at least that anyone knew of. She was very quite vulnerable enough for her eyes to feel the pricks of water, for the saltiness to spill down her cheeks.

She started to her vehicle, everyone following. All stopped a few feet away from the small SUV, except one person, who opened the door for her. She didn’t permit herself to look until she had slung her bag into the back seat. Her eyes lifted to the man who held her door.

“Rider.”

“Grace.”

They stared, willing the other to look away first. Finally, Grace blinked, her eyes burning from the wind. He took the opportunity to look away, focusing on the overcast sky.

“You had better get going, it’s going to rain.”

She nodded as he gently shut her door. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned the key and shifted it into drive.