Life After You
Chapter 1 - I'm out here alone just tryin' to get home
The tunnel of the night loomed out in front of Janelle’s car with her headlights beams breaking through highlighting the highway’s yellow lines. Her eyes burned from the hours of crying, cheeks hard from the dried salt; she didn’t bother wiping them when they came down.
She focused on the road ahead that was taking her home. Home to her parent’s house, to a familiar bed that was her own, instead of a hotel. There were no cars on the highway, it was empty and black like her heart and soul. She felt nothing. The steering wheel didn’t feel real, she felt nothing, she was on autopilot.
When she arrived home, her parents were sleeping and the lights were off in the house. She entered through the front door quietly, using her memory to navigate the darkness towards her room. Janelle hadn’t been in this house in months yet it felt like she never left. Her room was just like it was left when she departed for Chicago four months ago. Her mom tidied up and there was clean laundry waiting for her, as if her mom knew she was coming home.
Janelle changed into her pajamas, putting the sweat, cigarette ridden clothing deep into the laundry basket. Slipping her rings and jewelry off. She put her cellphone out of her jeans pocket onto her desk. There were 11 missed calls and 54 text messages, by the time she woke up the next day and showered, Patrick left 23 missed calls and sent 67 text messages.
Janelle woke up at 7 in the morning, the same time she’s been waking up for the last 18 years. Now at 23, she couldn’t break the habit. Her dirty clothes she left on the floor were gone, replaced by freshly cleaned ones. She smiled. Her mom was the best and it made her feel better remembering that she had unconditional love.
She took a shower, made her bed, and dressed in lounge wear. Janelle didn’t plan on doing anything today but relaxing and spending time with her parents. Breakfast with her parents was filled with hot plates of delicious food and no questions ask on her sudden return without a notice. Smiles and love was spread through the room, making Janelle forget for a moment the blackness in her heart.
Going back to her room, Janelle turned on her computer, while she was waiting for it to warm up, she turned her cellphone, noticing the messages. She opened a few, all lengthy apologies. Many of which she heard five times over, some during his drunk period and some when he was sober. She dreaded checking her email for more requests for atonement. After reading a few of the emails, Janelle still felt nothing, no sign of remorse or absolution for Pat.
Thinking about him for a bit, she focused on all the Chicago Blackhawks memorabilia she had in her room. Signed posters and pucks, sticks, posters...everything. They were surreal, their colors bold, their shapes distorted. She didn’t want to believe they existed in her room but their presence was overwhelming her. If she got rid of all of them, her parents would suspect something, and she didn’t want to answer any questions about her and Pat.
Chatting with her friends, planning dinners and parties with them. Janelle felt comfort and familiarity. It was bizarre, she didn’t quite grasp at it because 24 hours prior her world was turned upside down. All of this felt like a movie, she needed a sign for that it was real and not some dream. That she wasn’t going to wake up in a hotel room alone. Janelle shrugged it off because she rather have this then process what occurred yesterday.
She looked around her desk for a piece of paper to write down a cell number of a restaurant, when she saw the picture frame. She put the pen down and reached for the frame, picking it up. It was a photograph of her and Pat, at the United Center before a game in the lounge for players’ family and friends. His arm was around her shoulder and they were cheek to cheek, smiling brightly to the camera. Janelle didn’t want to stare too long at that smile, that big, crooked grin that made her laugh and smile during the best and worst of times. She loved that smile. Janelle turned away from the picture frame at her computer screen. Blinking windows of chat conversations and browser open with random stuff. She looked hard at it, as if staring at her screen would be a distraction from the reality that she would never see that smile again.
It didn’t matter, she didn’t care, she never wanted to after what he did to her. The betrayal and the lies made the picture seem increasingly like a memento found in antique shop. Yet, she remembered taking that picture. Janelle thought of how the warmth of his skin felt against her, the weight of his arm on her shoulder and how his scent. For a second, Janelle felt a change from numbness to fear and sadness. She returned the picture frame to its spot and sighed. Then swallowed every emotion down into the blackness in her heart and started at her screen, continuing that reality.
She focused on the road ahead that was taking her home. Home to her parent’s house, to a familiar bed that was her own, instead of a hotel. There were no cars on the highway, it was empty and black like her heart and soul. She felt nothing. The steering wheel didn’t feel real, she felt nothing, she was on autopilot.
When she arrived home, her parents were sleeping and the lights were off in the house. She entered through the front door quietly, using her memory to navigate the darkness towards her room. Janelle hadn’t been in this house in months yet it felt like she never left. Her room was just like it was left when she departed for Chicago four months ago. Her mom tidied up and there was clean laundry waiting for her, as if her mom knew she was coming home.
Janelle changed into her pajamas, putting the sweat, cigarette ridden clothing deep into the laundry basket. Slipping her rings and jewelry off. She put her cellphone out of her jeans pocket onto her desk. There were 11 missed calls and 54 text messages, by the time she woke up the next day and showered, Patrick left 23 missed calls and sent 67 text messages.
Janelle woke up at 7 in the morning, the same time she’s been waking up for the last 18 years. Now at 23, she couldn’t break the habit. Her dirty clothes she left on the floor were gone, replaced by freshly cleaned ones. She smiled. Her mom was the best and it made her feel better remembering that she had unconditional love.
She took a shower, made her bed, and dressed in lounge wear. Janelle didn’t plan on doing anything today but relaxing and spending time with her parents. Breakfast with her parents was filled with hot plates of delicious food and no questions ask on her sudden return without a notice. Smiles and love was spread through the room, making Janelle forget for a moment the blackness in her heart.
Going back to her room, Janelle turned on her computer, while she was waiting for it to warm up, she turned her cellphone, noticing the messages. She opened a few, all lengthy apologies. Many of which she heard five times over, some during his drunk period and some when he was sober. She dreaded checking her email for more requests for atonement. After reading a few of the emails, Janelle still felt nothing, no sign of remorse or absolution for Pat.
Thinking about him for a bit, she focused on all the Chicago Blackhawks memorabilia she had in her room. Signed posters and pucks, sticks, posters...everything. They were surreal, their colors bold, their shapes distorted. She didn’t want to believe they existed in her room but their presence was overwhelming her. If she got rid of all of them, her parents would suspect something, and she didn’t want to answer any questions about her and Pat.
Chatting with her friends, planning dinners and parties with them. Janelle felt comfort and familiarity. It was bizarre, she didn’t quite grasp at it because 24 hours prior her world was turned upside down. All of this felt like a movie, she needed a sign for that it was real and not some dream. That she wasn’t going to wake up in a hotel room alone. Janelle shrugged it off because she rather have this then process what occurred yesterday.
She looked around her desk for a piece of paper to write down a cell number of a restaurant, when she saw the picture frame. She put the pen down and reached for the frame, picking it up. It was a photograph of her and Pat, at the United Center before a game in the lounge for players’ family and friends. His arm was around her shoulder and they were cheek to cheek, smiling brightly to the camera. Janelle didn’t want to stare too long at that smile, that big, crooked grin that made her laugh and smile during the best and worst of times. She loved that smile. Janelle turned away from the picture frame at her computer screen. Blinking windows of chat conversations and browser open with random stuff. She looked hard at it, as if staring at her screen would be a distraction from the reality that she would never see that smile again.
It didn’t matter, she didn’t care, she never wanted to after what he did to her. The betrayal and the lies made the picture seem increasingly like a memento found in antique shop. Yet, she remembered taking that picture. Janelle thought of how the warmth of his skin felt against her, the weight of his arm on her shoulder and how his scent. For a second, Janelle felt a change from numbness to fear and sadness. She returned the picture frame to its spot and sighed. Then swallowed every emotion down into the blackness in her heart and started at her screen, continuing that reality.