Tunnel Vision

It's a little past midnight, and I've found refuge on the roof of my house. I felt like I needed time to think about nothing and just... sort of drift without having to go anywhere. It's the only time things truly make sense. It's as if I've finally remembered who I am, where I am, and why I've ended up where I have.

It's a beautiful thing to have all of that knowledge. It's the only kind that truly matters.

I hear my mother knocking softly on my door and I can tell she's unsure of whether or not it's okay to just come in.

I climb back though my window and open the door. I never lock it.

"Hey, mom."

It's awkward between us since we had a small fight at dinner. She knows it wasn't just about the lasagna. It was everything it represented, everything behind the Italian dinner.

"Claire..." she says my name like she means it. Like she actually does love me even though I forget sometimes.

"It's fine," I tell her. "I'm fine."

"But I know you're upset with me. I honestly forgot."

It wasn't that she had forgotten that I hated lasagna. Or maybe that was partially it. Or perhaps it was just that I was having a shitty day and I took it out on poor mom because she made my least favorite food in the world for dinner.

Or maybe it was non of those things and I was just being a bitch.

"It doesn't matter. I shouldn't have gotten as mad as I did. I'm sorry."

She feels bad that I'm the one apologizing. She always feels as if she should be the bigger person and say sorry even though she's done nothing wrong. Mark likes that about her, that she's so... forgiving.

My mom will be going to heaven. Just watch.

"Me too, sweetie."

I reach out and give her a hug, something that hasn't happened in what feels like forever. She wraps her arms around me and kisses the top of my head.

"I love you, Claire."

I nod and say it back because it's the right thing to do, and I actually mean it. A few moments later she's saying goodnight and giving me one last kiss on the forehead. I close my door and stand in the middle of my room.

Once I know she's in bed and everyone is asleep, I slip on a pair of sneakers, climb back out my window and down the just outside of the house. I'm feeling good, so I go on a short walk.

Roaming the streets of Darby is one of the best things to do at night. I imagine Darcy and all the other kids from school at that party I'm not going to, and think about all the things they're going to regret tomorrow morning.

I wonder why I don't feel like doing all those stupid things with them. I find it hard to understand why I'm so different. I can't figure out why I seem to see everything from such a different perspective.

I stop when I reach the bridge that crosses over a river and into the woods that the men go hunting in when the season is right. I sit down and slip my legs between the wooden plank and let them dangle above the water. Goosebumps rise up and I start to wish that I hadn't worn shorts.

I look up at the stars and start to sing a song I can't remember the title of. When I reach the chorus I laugh because the title was so simple and right there.

I hear someone else laughing too, and I turn to see who it is. I don't know him so I assume that he is new or visiting.

"Sorry," he says sort of quiet-like and he looks away for a moment then back at me. "I just... I heard you singing and then you started laughing at yourself and..." he trails off and I find his awkward shyness a little cute.

I don't say anything though. I just nod and smile.

He asks if he can sit down and I say yes. "Go ahead, no one is stopping you."

He laughs awkwardly to himself and takes a seat. He introduces himself as Noah. "I'm visiting my Grandma for a while. I'm not sure if I'm staying for good."

I nod. "I'm Claire, I've been living here for a while and I'm pretty sure I'm going to be here for good."

It's hard meeting new people, but Noah makes it easy. I think it's because he is different from all of the kids in Darby. He's not anxious to be like all of the teenagers in the city who can't seem to find anything to do other than party. I categorize him under simple and call it a day with trying to figure him out.

I've been in desperate need of a puzzle.

He doesn't say anything more, so neither do I. Instead, we sit on the bridge under the sky and the stars until two in the morning.

Only then, do I tell him that I'll be here the same time tonight and that I hope to see him again.