Someday

I sat on my window seat and stared out. I stared at the dark pavement just in front of my house and at the clean cut grass in front of every house. Outside, things were so brilliantly colored and organized just perfect, as if the scene had been painted by a very talented artist. I sighed and leaned my forehead against the glass. It was cool against my clammy flesh and I closed my eyes at the nice sensation.

I was trapped inside my own home. I hadn’t breathed fresh air since I was seven. My parents were too scared of the outside world. They feared I’d be corrupted by association, so they decided to keep me locked in the house. There were never any guests allowed over, not even the neighbors, especially not the neighbors. The neighbors were the reason my parents got scared in the first place.

I was only seven so I don’t remember much. But I do remember the big truck. There were lots of big guys there too, carrying things from the truck to the house again and again. I simply sat on the curb in front of my house and watched them. I was starting to get bored when a boy, about my same height, appeared in front of the truck. He smiled and waved. I was hesitant, but I waved back. He took a few steps, till he was standing directly in the middle of the road.

“You’re not supposed to stand in the road.” I yelled to him. I glanced down both sides of the road, but there were no cars coming in either direction. There was much traffic in a small suburb like this one. The boy didn’t move. He just continued to smile.

“My name’s Alexander.” I remember he had a funny accent that made me scrunch up my nose. He was different, I could already tell that even at our young age. “But you can call me Alex.” He gave another smile and he seemed friendly enough. So I talked to him.

“I’m Sophie.” I grinned and stuck out my hand like I’d seen my parents do so many times. Then my memory starts to haze a bit, like in slow motion. I remember him smiling more and taking a few steps toward me as he raised his own hand. But then there was a loud noise and I remember my mother, clutching my wrist as she pulled me toward our house. I remember confusion and the last glance I had at the little boy before our front door closed permanently for me. He wasn’t smiling anymore. Instead there was a prominent frown that pulled his tiny lips downward as he watched me go.

I don’t remember much of anything else, just a few words my mother grumbled angrily as she marched me up to my room. There was a long talk that night, between my mother and father. The next morning when I came downstairs for school, my mother told me I was going to be enrolled in home schooling. I was thrilled at first, but then I realized what she really meant. I was never going to be allowed outside again.

I opened my eyes as I willed the painful memory to go away. I didn’t want to be trapped in here anymore. I wanted to take deep breaths from outside and feel the sun kiss my skin with the light breeze playing in my hair. I wanted to be free.

As my eyes refocused on the pavement outside, a small smile tugged on my lips and my mood brightened just a little. There stood the boy. The boy from all those years ago, well, ten years ago. He had his head tilted back as he stood at the front of his driveway and stared up at my window. He raised his hand once our eyes connected, and waved. I raised my hand to the window and pressed my palm to it.

This was common between us. Though we hadn’t talked since we were seven, and even then the conversation didn’t escalade too much, we still waved. We said hi and sometimes we’d write small messages to each other on paper. It was strange, but he was my only contact on the outside. The only person that knew I was trapped in here.

He held up one finger that told me to wait before he dashed into his house. It was a few minutes later that I saw the curtain to his room move. He pulled the window open and held up an old dry erase board. I leaned forward a bit and squinted my eyes to make out the words.

how R you doing in there?

I sighed as I stood up and walked over to my desk. I uncapped my black sharpie and quickly scribbled the words on the blank printer paper. I took a few more steps and held the paper against my window. I wasn’t allowed to open them. Every window in the house had a lock mechanism on the outside.

I watched him give a sad smile and nod as he read my note. His head quickly snapped toward the inside of his room. I guessed someone called his name as he turned back to me and waved again, a goodbye this time. He shut the window and replaced the curtain. I sat back on the seat and rested the note on my lap as I stared at the words.

someday, i will get out of this place