Word of Mouth

It was April, it was raining, and I was nervous.

callalame:
it’s official, i’m moving to nyc come august
#am i gonna like it? #who knows

I just looked at the post on my laptop for at least five minutes before I posted it. I didn’t even know why the thought of posting it made my stomach churn but it did. I’d posted tons of far more personal posts and not been nervous. But this, this was a big deal and I was scared about how people would take it.

Which was sort of crap because I was <i>choosing</i> to share my life with ten thousand followers and I could choose to not to. But I was still scared.

Once I hit post I quickly shut my laptop and pushed it to the side of my bed. I wanted nothing to do with Tumblr for a little while. I’d let it sit for a bit until I signed back on and answered the asks I knew I was going to get.

I walked out of my room and opted to watch some actual TV in the living room before my dad got home and I’d basically be shunned to my room all night. I loved my dad, I did, but he was an asshole.

When I’d talked to him and my mother about moving with my aunt the previous night my dad listened to half of the conversation before screaming his opinions in my face and then quite literally, stomping out of the house to go get beer at the convenience store down the road. It was getting bad again. Which was why I needed out.

My mom on the other hand, had just listened as I very calmly explained that after May 17th, I was going to be 18 and I was allowed to make my own choices. She started to cry when I told her I was going and she had no say.

She told me she’d talk to her sister and I told her I already had. She said she’d never speak to her sister again, I told her Nell wouldn’t care. (Nell wouldn’t care).

So even though both of my parents were more than unhappy that I was going to move out, I didn’t care. I needed out as soon as possible. I couldn’t bare to live another day in the house with them. My mother had lost her mind and wanted to have another baby while my dad didn’t even make enough money to support the three of us, never mind a new baby.

It wasn’t always like that though. Before we moved to Ohio things were great, perfect even maybe. My dad was the vice president of a bank in San Francisco and because of the amount of money he was making my mom was able to not have to work. So from the time I was born until I was ten, things were great.

We had a nice house in a suburb of the city called San Ramon. We had enough extra money to send me to dance lessons and for my mom to buy nice clothes. And it was just nice. There was no screaming, no arguing, and certainly no fights over how my father spent the last of the weeks food for money on booze.

That all came after he got laid off.

I was ten and a half when we moved from sunny California to plain Ohio.

Maybe Ohio wouldn’t have been so bad if the first apartment we got kicked out of because my dad couldn’t make rent because he spent nearly all of his paychecks on pints of vodka.

The second apartment had cockroaches and me and my mom stayed with my grandma who lived near by for a month until my dad “<i>straightened out his act</i>”.

The third place wasn’t an apartment but a trailer. We got evicted after six months because my dad couldn’t pay rent. My mom and I stayed with my grandma again and my mom got a job.

We ended up in a little ranch that was still lived in six years later. It was small and only had two bedrooms and an office. When we first moved in we barely had any furniture, and the furniture we did have was old and disgusting. Thankfully, we’d at least got some new furniture. There were still problems though.

Like my dad would still blow paychecks on vodka and my mom would have to take care of all the bills. Then my dad would yell and throw a fucking fit and storm out. Then come back completely trashed and push around whoever was closest to the side door. It was terrible honestly.

Which is why I had both a Tumblr and why I was moving in with my aunt Nell.

I’d made my Tumblr two years prior figuring it’d be like some sort of diary. I was wrong. People found it. Lots of people. But it still served its purpose. I posted things I wrote (even if I was sad) and pictures I took. It was an outlet, and a nice one at that.

My aunt Nell was my moms younger sister. She had a lovely husband named Joseph, and two kids, Scarlett and Rosie. When they asked if I wanted to go and live with them I said yes almost too quickly.

Nell knew. She knew how bad my dad was and she knew my mom was slowly losing her sanity. And because she knew, my uncle knew. Thankfully, they cared enough to help me out. Get me out of the terrible situation I was in.

So now, both my parents and my tumblr followers were going to freak out that I was finally doing something for me. I was finally getting out of a terrible fucking situation and trying to better me. Which was bullshit that people were upset with me for doing something for me, but I couldn’t really do anything about it.

I just sat and watched TV to try to take my mind off the fact that my dad would be home soon and probably yell some more and my followers were now probably thinking I was ignoring them. The day just kept getting better and better.

I was in my room the second I heard my dad pull up from work, I was in my room and had climbed into bed to try and keep warm because it was still raining and I’d opened my laptop. I’d much rather have dealt with Tumblr than my dad.

As soon as I opened my dashboard there was a little red bubble over the white message that read 50. Fifty was a lot. Like a lot a lot and I felt my throat tighten up and my hands start to get a bit sweaty and my heart rate start to go up.

I clicked on it hesitantly. People knew why I was moving. They knew it sucked at home for me, although they didn’t know to what extent. And I was scared. I was scared people were going to tell me I should suck it up. That it was an idiot for leaving.

I didn’t want to be looked at like I was a child. I didn’t want people to think I was acting childish and leaving because I couldn’t handle it.

I went through the messages as quick as I could. I skimmed over them quickly, afraid to really see what any of them said. One though, grabbed my attention.

<i>anonymous</i>asked:
I moved to New York from the UK. You’ll love it here .x

I just stared at the message for a minute thinking of what to say back. Normally, I didn’t feel the least bit intimidated by messages, but for this reason that one my my stomach turn a little bit.

I didn’t even know what to say.

<i>callalame</i> answered: 
thaaaank. I hope so. Never really been to an east coast city before.
#this makes me sound real pretentious #what did living in cali dO TO ME

It was stupid but I couldn’t find words that seemed to fit together.

She answered a couple more anons before refreshing her inbox to find another anon signed “.x”.

<i>anonymous</i> asked:
you’ll love it. I’ve followed you long enough to know you’ll like it .x

I just stared at my screen again. It wasn’t weird for me to get anons that talked to me more than once. This one was just, it <i>felt</i> different which was fucking crazy. Because they were in New York (clearly) and I was in Ohio but it just felt weird.

Maybe it was the ‘x’ at the end. Internet affection was weird to me.

I heard my parents arguing as I started to type and answer.

<i>callalame</i> answered:
aw! you’re sweet! i’m sure it’ll be fun living in a big city.

I hit publish quickly and went to grab my headphones off my night stand. I didn’t want to hear whatever was going on down the hall. I wanted to avoid it as best as I could. If that meant I had to drown out the world, I would.

I was about to refresh my dash when there was a loud knock on my door. One that actually permeated the music I was listening to. I took my ears buds out and let a shiver run through me, I knew who was at my door.

“Come in,” I shut my laptop.

My father threw the door open, he was still dressed in his work clothes and his eyes looked mad.

“Hi dad,” I greeted him like it was fine.

“What the fuck is <i>this</i>?” He snarled as he walked into my room and threw a ripped open envelope in my face.

I gingerly picked it up and shakily pulled out the paper inside.

It was from NYU. My stomach churned uncomfortably.

“I come home to find this bullshit?” My dad yelled at me as I opened the piece of paper.

The problem was, I wasn’t expecting it. I wasn’t expecting the letter to come yet and I wasn’t expecting my dad to find it. I was terrified for two reasons now.

The rule was I needed to go to school. If I wanted to live with my aunt and uncle, I needed to be in school. And on a whim I’d applied to NYU thinking I’d never get in in a million years.

It was terrifying to even be holding the letter.

When I opened it my eyes widened. And before I could even react myself my dad was yelling.

“Does this mean you’re leaving then? Leaving me alone with your <i>mother</i>?” He spat, as if my mother was a monster.

“D-dad I didn’t. I didn’t think I-I’d get in,” I shook my head, my words shaky.

“You got in? You got into NYU?” He snarled.

I wanted to cry because I’d gotten in, instead I just nodded.

“You’re a selfish brat, you know that right?!” My dad’s face was red as he lifted his hand and hit the back of my head, “Leaving me alone in this shit-hole of a house?!”

I winced, expecting the hit before it came, “Please don’t.”

“Please don’t what? Beat your ass for being selfish?” I was ready to puke on the floor.

“I-I didn’t think I’d get in,” I tried to tell him again.

“Doesn’t fucking matter does it? You were gonna leave anyway!” It was scary that he wasn’t even drunk yet. I knew he’d go out later and waste money and come home and push me or my mom around.

“Dad, <i>please</i>,” I braced myself as he lifted his hand again. The hit didn’t come.

“What?! What do you have to say that’s going to fix this?” His voice echoed through my green room. I hated his voice, the way it boomed when he was angry.

I just shook my head meekly, I didn’t know what he wanted me to say.

“There’s nothing you can say is there?” His voice was so loud and I wish my mom would come in and tell him to just <i>stop</i>. But I knew she wouldn’t. She never did.

“Dad, <i>please</i>,” tears burned the back of my eyes like they always did whenever he yelled at him. It was pathetic really, the whole thing.

He didn’t say anything, just let his hand hit the back of my head again in a harsh slap before he stormed out of my room slamming the door so hard my walls shook.

I let out a breath I’d been holding. Sometimes, okay, most of the time, I wanted nothing more than to fucking just leave. Just graduate and leave because it was terrible here. But then I’d remember that I’d be leaving not just my father, but my mom. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she was going to have to deal with him after I left.

It was normal for me to cry after my dad yelled at me, I don’t think there was a single thing I hated more than having negative attention focused on me.

I’d just gotten in to NYU, I should have been jumping up and down, calling my aunt Nell. I should have been excited but I couldn’t then. My eyes stung too much and even though he didn’t hit me hard the back of my head stung, I could still feel the imprint of his hand lingering. None of it was fucking fair.

My head hurt and I wanted to take a shower but I didn’t dare leave my room. I heard my dad screaming down the hall at my mom. It was too risky to leave my room. So I pulled the blankets up tighter around me and tried to pretend I couldn’t hear anything.

It was loud, like it always was, because the small house echoed so easily and it seemed like my dad’s voice traveled probably at the speed of light.

I decided though, it’d be better for me to instead just open my computer again and play the loudest music I could. I settled on Fitz and the Tantrums.

While the music drowned out all noise in my entire house I went to my dashboard, I knew I’d gotten a few more messages but before I answered them I typed out a quick post.

<i>callalame</i>:
you know it’d be rly cool if my family was actually impressed that i got into a school i’ve always wanted to go to
#like cmon guys

I hit post quickly, hoping to not give too much about the entire situation away. My followers knew far too much about me anyway.

Once it was posted, I quickly clicked on my inbox. The first message there made my stomach churn a little bit.

<i>anonymous</i> asked:
cooongraaats. wish you’re family was a bit cooler .x