My Name Is Jimmy and You Better Not Wear It Out

Getting out of the City was easier said than done.

I spent the next few days wondering what to do with all my stuff. Honestly, all of my clothes AND my coffee maker wouldn't fit in the bag that I had originally brought with me. I could just leave them in the apartment, I mean the place was mine, but anyone could break in at any time and steal my shit.

And I really did like that coffee maker.

But eventually I decided just to leave the thing there and if it was stolen when I came back --if I came back-- I could just buy a new one.

The next thing on my agenda was the question on how I would get home.

Getting a ride from someone was out of the question. I mean, practically everyone hated me. Like they would give up three days of their time to drive, sober, in a car with me. Definitely not happening.

The days that I spent without a ride, I did nothing. Just smoked cigarettes and drank coffee. I didn't really know what to do with myself. I didn't have anywhere to be, I didn't have anyone to go see, I didn't have anyone to fuck.

Like I really wanted to fuck anyone with how badly the last time turned out.j

Somewhere in all of the silence and smoking and thinking, I realized that I really should be going through some major withdrawal symptoms. It never really occurred to me before, but I was really addicted to whatever the hell I was on. And yet nothing was shaking. Nothing was craving. Nothing was in major pain.

I guess I just dropped it all the day I met Gloria.

Finally, one day, I was sitting at the bar, just smoking after working my arms off to get some major graffiti of profanity off the bathroom wall, and Reggie came up to me.

"What are you still doing here, boy?"

"I honestly don't know. I've been looking for a way to get home, and I haven't really been doing anything else other than work."

"Shit, I know one of the drivers for the ol' Greyhound Bus line that goes practically everywhere. I could get you a seat."

"For when?"

"Any time, just tell me a date and time."

"In two days, around noon? I mean, I've got a three day drive to get back to where I'm from."

"I'll see what I can do Jimmy."

I didn't hear from Reggie again until about eight in the morning, two days later.

I woke up to pounding on my door.

"Good lawd, wake up! I've got your ticket, you've got four hours to get your ass up and packed."

I practically shot up and opened the door. Reggie ignored how I was half naked and handed me the ticket.

"Twelve noon, the bus'll pick you up here, out front. The driver's my friend, so he might give you a little extra time if you're late, but not much."

I just stared at the ticket. I didn't really know what to say. How could I even begin to thank him?

"Reggie, I honestly don't know what to say."

"Thank you is good enough."

"Yeah-Yeah, thanks. Thanks for everything."

He just stood there and smiled. He nodded once, then was gone, headed downstairs to work on whatever needed to be fixed. I closed the door and stood there for a while, staring at the ticket. Then I finally kicked myself into motion. I took a shower, got dressed in my cleanest clothes possible. Honestly I would be on a bus for three days, I probably wouldn't be able to get any sort of time to change clothes.

Then I went to the gas station and bought as many snacks as possible. Didn't know when we would be stopping for food either, or if we even would. I also bought a bottle of lighter fluid, just in case I decided to light a fire if I ever came back to the apartment in the future and needed a way to kick start it..

Then I packed.

And this didn't seem like it would take too long, but it took forever. I kept stopping and looking at articles of clothing that seemed to have a newfound significance.

This was the first pair of pants that Gloria borrowed from me.

This was the shirt that Gloria pulled on that day when she went to run downstairs to get the mail.

These are the shorts she left here so long ago. (Obviously I didn't pack these, how would I explain that to anyone?)

Then I spotted the journal, just sitting on the counter in the kitchen. Pen off to one side, giving off the illusion of being about to be used, but then forgotten. I picked up the dark volume and paged through it. The pages seemed so familiar, yet so foreign. Like I couldn't have been the one to write all these pages. February 23rd seemed eons away, almost as if it was back when the dinosaurs roamed the earth.

I was a different person then. It was a different life.

I almost cried when I read the first page I ever wrote about Gloria. Actually burst into tears when I saw her handwriting gracing that almost holy page. At that point I just packed it, unable to look at it, yet unable to leave it behind.

That's when I heard the bus honking from the street. I grabbed my bag and hurtled down the stairs, afraid that I would miss it. Afraid that I would lose my chance to get home.

And when I got there, I found I couldn't leave yet. I had too many memories, too many scars to just leave them here unresolved.

So I just stood outside the bus' open doors.

"Are you getting on or are you staying?"

"I looked up. The driver looked annoyed. He had good reason to be.

"Look, I, um, I've got a couple more things to do...so can I just leave my stuff here for a few minutes while I tie everything up?"

"Like hell you can-"

"PLEASE, JUST FIVE FUCKING MINUTES."

"Fine, five, just get going."

I threw my bag onto the bus then practically ran upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. In my hurry to leave I had forgotten to lock the door, and I burst into the apartment with energy to spare.

I looked around. Somehow I had never noticed the papers. God, there were so many papers. So many things to burn. I threw them all into the trashcan. The lighter fluid seemed to be made for this purpose, as if I had planned it all along.

I lit the fire and had a smoke.

And then the bus was honking at me again, my five minutes were up.

I glanced around the somewhat large room I had called home for the past few months, then went downstairs and got on the bus.

The ride was long, and the closer we got to Shitsville, the more I wanted time to speed up. I wanted to get home. I wanted to see Mom and tell her how sorry I was. I wanted to see my car and say hi to Ruthie and make sure she was getting a decent call from Tunny at least once every couple of weeks like she deserved. I wanted to make sure no one in Jingletown had changed too much since Tunny and I left. I wanted to sleep in my own bed, the way that I used to. I wanted to finish high school and go to college.

Weird, I know, but I wanted to. So badly.

The three days seemed to take forever, but when I was there, it seemed like it had only taken an hour.

And when I got off that bus, I stood there for a second and looked around, almost bewildered by how hot the air was. It was November, but it almost felt like it was July.

And for a moment I didn't know where I was. But then it all started coming back to me.

There was Hank's house! And there was Barb's! And Gret's! And Mark's!

And immediately I knew where I was. I was only three blocks away from home.

And then I started running.

I ran for all that I was worth. I heard people call out my name, shocked that I was back. Shocked that I wasn't with Tunny. Wondering what the hell I was doing and where the hell I was going. But I ignored them.

I just rand and ran and ran. And then there I was.

That shitty house in that shitty neighborhood with our shitty lawn and our shitty porch.

And I loved it.

I ran to the door and knocked. I didn't have a right to be here anymore, not really. I mean, I had left to find somewhere else. But now I knew where I really belonged. I belonged here, with Mom.

I was about to knock again when the door opened.

And there she was.

Pink bathrobe wrapped around her body like it was the only thing holding her sleepy frame together, blond hair sticking up at all directions, looking more sober than she had when I left all those months ago. Either Brad was getting her to AA, or I had done some good by taking the car. Either way, she looked better than when I left her.

"Hi Mom."

And then she was crying and hugging me and refusing to let go.

"Jimmy, you're home! You're home you're home you're home you're home!"

"Yeah Mom, I'm home. I'm back where I belong."

Here they come marching down the street
Like a desperation murmur of a heart beat
Coming back from the edge of town
Underneath their feet, the time has come
And it's going nowhere
Nobody ever said that life was fair now
Go-carts and guns are treasures they will bear
In the summer heat
The world is spinning around and around
Out of control again
From the 7-11 to the fear of breaking down
So send my love a letterbomb
And visit me in hell
We're the ones going home
We're coming home again

I started fuckin' running
Just as soon as my feet touch ground
We're back in the barrio
But to you and me, that's Jingle Town
Home.
We're coming home again
Nobody likes you -- everyone left you -- they're all out without you HAVIN' FUN!