City of Fools

This stranger stared at me; uninterested, distant.
“I, um, sorry. Wrong house, I guess.”
“Mmhm,” She looked down, boredom dripping from her every move.
“Sorry,” I repeated, slowly backing out of her view. I stared at the house, matching this moment to memories of my childhood. Though they’d been painted over, the marks were still there.
A faint crack in the kitchen window from that time I threw the ball a little too hard. The dent in the garage door from my first driving lesson; only visible when you really look for it.
I closed my eyes and slumped against the side of my car, letting myself slide to the floor. This wasn’t right.
Frustrated, I got in to the car, calling my Mom to find out for real what the fuck was going on.
Ring ring. Ring. Ring ring. Ring. Ri…ng…….Rin…..g.
Now she won’t talk to me. I threw the phone on to the seat next to me, collapsing, my head colliding with the steering wheel. Everything I knew was slipping out from under me. The place I had before seen as a time capsule to simpler times had been picked at and fixed up and broken.
A little like myself.
Something had felt off as soon as I’d arrived; and I’d known it. It felt like a tiny voice somewhere inside me was whispering to turn around and leave.
But why? I started to get angry. I was clearly missing something.
This was a mess; I decided to go home and sleep on it. Avoid the train wreck for one more day.

I returned to therapy with questions, demands. It wasn’t fair that everyone seem to know what was going on in my life except for me. I needed answers.
Impeccably timed, as ever, Alex called just as I pulled up outside of the building.
“Tay, oh my god, Tay. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“Alright. Okay. Where are you?”
“I’m at therapy.”
“What? Why? Do you want me to come?”
His panicky tone stressed me out. I figured his presence couldn’t hurt, and it would be much easier than trying to explain anything to this stutter-y worried Alex.
“Yeah, okay, sure. Hurry.”
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel anxiously; waiting.
It took him the best of 3 minutes to get arrive, the shiny new dent in his wing mirror confirming my suspicions that he had likely broken every traffic law in the book in his stride.
He hopped out of his car and into mine almost instantaneously.
“Okay?”
I nodded, too far away to even attempt real conversation.
“Tay,” He threaded his fingers through my own and managed to catch my eyes. He looked straight through me, the way only he can; as though he’s finding constellations in the furthest stars of my mind.
“Ready?” I nodded weakly, and he squeezed my hand before letting go and jumping out of the car.

The familiar room seemed much larger and more intimidating; I felt myself shrinking as I walked through it. The room was empty but I felt watched, judged, criticized.

I walked through the stupidly cheerful purple door and sat down in front of this familiar face, feeling out of place.
“Alright,” I leaned forward, pushing all of my discomfort and uncertainty to the back of my mind. I felt Alex looking at me; saw the pity in Clara’s eyes.
“I’m done with this; tell me what’s going on.”
She cleared her throat, glancing down and then back up; trying to hide her desperate search for the right thing to say.
“… Tell me what’s happened.”
“Well,”
My voice became slightly louder, frustration taking over anything else I was feeling. “You know something I don’t. My relationship with my mother seems really important in this. And now she’s fucking disappeared. Care to clue me in?”
She shared a glance with Alex.
“Stop it!” I stood up, suddenly angry, sick and tired of being kept in the dark.
“What the fuck is going on?!”
“Tay,” Alex mumbled, taking my hand and tugging slightly. I sighed, falling back next to him.
“Alright, alright. You’re supposed to get there on your own but… I don’t know if you can… at this point.” Clara pushed the papers in her lap aside, abandoning her desk to walk past us to a cabinet on the other side of the room. She unlocked a drawer and picked something up, then walked back to us and dropped it in my lap. I just stared at it.
A big, official-looking file with my name printed in big black lettering.
“What’s this?”
“Your file.”
I rolled my eyes as I started to flick through. It was mostly just my medical history. “Well, yes, I gathered. Why do you have a file on…”
My eyes fell on a sentence in the middle of the first page.

Taylor’s mother, Katherine Mary Jardine, is involved in a car crash on 8th September 2010; and dies on impact.

I froze. It felt as though my brain was imploding; everything I knew being sucked into an abyss of terror. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came. I was stuck, pieces of the puzzle in my mind suddenly coming undone. I vaguely felt Alex’s arms wrap around me, still unable to function as I collapsed into his chest. It was as though I had moved out of my own body, as I looked upon the situation as someone else.

The lost girl falling apart brick by brick, crumbling like an old statue in a hurricane. The boy trying to keep her head above water though he’s already drowning.