Miles to Go

Eight o’clock Saturday night, I was already out on the beach. It was getting closer to winter, so thankfully the shoreline was already relieved of people.
I sat in front of the empty Wilson’s house today for a change, on their wooden fence instead of the sandy ground. I glanced at the darkened windows behind me, the white that framed it, as my fingers picked at the wood.
No one was home tonight, seeing as everyone was at the party, and it gave the beach a sense of isolation and solitude that was never found here otherwise. Even when the beach was empty, and I was alone, there were the homes that bordered the beach, retracting from the seclusion that was offered here.
The worst part was that I knew it didn’t bother or affect anyone the way it did me.
I hissed in surprise suddenly as I felt a sharp pain in my thumb blocking out everything else for a moment. I glanced down, frowning at the spot of red where the pulsing pain originated from. It wasn’t a splinter, just a little cut, but ironically those always seemed to be the ones that hurt the most; those little cuts that you dismissed.
Sighing, I glanced past my house to the newly occupied one and wasn’t surprised to find that even they weren’t home.
But that meant… I jumped from the fence, knowing it was stupid it think I could stay here, loitering in the Wilson’s lingering warmth while it lasted, as there was a party in my house next door. I knew all the emotions from the one house would radiate for miles, and being anywhere near there would drive me crazy.
But I had to try.
And now that I had, not to mention promptly failed, I was going to go on my way and try preserving the little sanity I had.
I might’ve been able to linger a little longer, but if the new family was there, in the very next house, with their cold mixed in with everyone else’s warmer emotions, it’s a very likely possibility I might’ve simply exploded.
I dodged between two houses, carefully making my way to the road in front of them and going in the opposite direction of where I stayed. Tucking my hands in my pocket, I followed the long, winding road until I hit the fourth block, where I proceeded to make a left.
After a couple of more turns and loops that wouldn’t normally be necessary, I found myself on the stretch of road that was right in the middle of the park, a road rarely used aside from when there was traffic.
It was a spot that was often used for some marathon or another (the 5K, perhaps?) and had distance markers on the trees in suitable places.
It wasn’t long ago I myself came here before sunrise, running down the road and then circling back to the beach.
I couldn’t remember why I stopped for the life of me, but I never could get myself to stop coming here, whether it be to run or wander. And, on summer nights when the beach was occupied with teenagers looking to start a bonfire or something else equally stupid, it was here I came.
But it simply wasn’t the same. There was just something about the ocean, something nothing else could ever possibly compare to, that just had me coming back even at four am with hopes of detachment.
But, since it was all I could do, I began walking the distance, settling.

A glance at my watch told me it was four hours later, at two in the morning, when I arrived back at the beach. Mostly everyone was already asleep, but some were in their dark rooms, on their comfortable beds, frustrated they couldn’t sleep.
However, when I made it back to the spot by the fence where I was used to sit before the new family moved in, I wasn’t surprised to find the kitchen lights on.
She’d left the curtains closed today, opting to leave the glass French doors open instead. I had to admit that did surprise me. It was rather cold out, and if she was dressed anything as she had been all the other times I’d seen her, she must have been freezing.
Not my business, I thought. I had enough to worry about as it was; I hardly needed anything else added to my plate.
But, even as I told myself this, I couldn’t help noticing that something was off tonight. The cold that normally surrounded the house seemed to expand tonight, touching distances that seemed impossible for one single family to attain.
No, I corrected hastily, it wasn’t one family… it was one person. Two people in the house were… relaxed, confused?
My brow furrowed with annoyance. The cold pressing down on me made it impossible to taste what the others were feeling.
The fourth person, whoever it was, was cold as well, but not like this, nothing even remotely close.
This was… I huffed in exasperation. Not only was it making it hard to figure out what others what feeling, it was making it unfeasible for me to even think.
I’d learned from a young age that this wasn’t normal, being able to taste what people were feeling. And, while at first I couldn’t deal with this, all these emotions filling you up to the brink of explosion, I grew accustomed to it. It just… was. It’s just something you live with because there’s nothing else you can do.
It was really like an intensified natural instinct of discerning body language.
But ever since I’d learned how to deal, it’d never been like this, it never washed over me and soaked me like this.
It was constantly there, a presence, a feeling, just inside me, but since I’d learned to push it to the back of my mind, it never controlled me.
But now… now I felt like I’d been normal all this time, and all of a sudden tasted what everyone else felt. I felt like all this was new, foreign, when it wasn’t. It wasn’t anything new at all.
Instead of dwelling on it, I jumped the wooden fence into my backyard, slipping through the sliding doors into the kitchen and sneaking downstairs into the basement. Clearly I wasn’t going to get any peace on the beach tonight. It seemed like this was my next option going by the fact that I had no intentions of going back to that deserted road.
It wasn’t the best choice, considering the family that lived merely yards away from me, but as luck would have it, it was my only option.
Dropping onto my bed with a short yawn, I closed my eyes, and tried to get the bitter, cold taste out of my mouth that was slowly proceeding to freeze my insides.

“Honey, wake up. Breakfast is ready.”
I slowly opened my eyes, blinking a few times to try and get rid of that blurry-just-awoken vision. “What…?”
“I know it’s early, but breakfast is ready. We’ve been invited to our new neighbor’s house for brunch; you’ll need the time to get ready and—”
“I’m not going,” I interrupted, rolling off my bed and landing on my feet.
Her mood changed just slightly, the easy air turning just barely tense. “Why not?”
“Don’t want to. You know I hate these things.” At least I wasn’t lying there; I really didn’t like these things with the strained, polite conversation that put me so on edge.
She pushed on, but I could already sense her defeat. “Can’t you at least try? Please. It really isn’t that bad.”
“No, it really is,” I argued as she took a seat on the corner of my bed while I searched through my closet for my hoodie.
“Tell me honestly you don’t think you’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being dramatic?” I repeated. “You’re the one that blows everything out of proportion!”
Her temper flared, burning into me flawlessly. “I don’t know why you have to do this. Why you insist on pulling away from everyone.”
“I’m not pulling away from anybody. I’m just bad at this stuff, okay?”
She scoffed, getting up and going to the stairs. “There’s a family dinner later. I take it you’re coming to that, at least.”
I stared after her, listening for the click of the door before dropping heavily on the closest chair, my irritation filling me up quickly.
This was the problem with feeling everything all the time—it made your body so accustomed to changing moods that while it should take a few moments to fully slip into an emotion, it happened instantly.
And instantly it was, the frustration that took over me. I hated that she didn’t get it, that I couldn’t explain it to her. It wasn’t about being good or bad at social contact, like she thought, it was that I couldn’t handle it. Places with too many people or crowds were just so difficult to handle. It was impossible, dealing with all those emotions. If everyone felt one thing at a time, I wouldn’t have a problem with it, but that just wasn’t how it worked.
When I’d first entered high school, this… thing had intensified almost. It’d certainly gotten worse, that much was certain. And, like every other irresponsible teen, I’d gone to parties, believing that everyone there was content, so I would be too. But instead, I’d learned of people’s insecurities, the wall flowers, the loud people who drank too much, the people who were only there for a hookup. It drove me insane.
So I’d tried bars because of the alcohol, which might very possibly be one of the worst ideas ever. Everyone had been completely sucked into their own miseries. Even the happy, laughing drunks had their problems lingering just past the drunken stupor that they were too oblivious to feel. But I’d felt it. And that too had pushed me very close to the edge.
But that was the one good thing about it. It subtly, in its own way, taught me to deal with it over time, how to not let it get to me. And, I’m not going to lie, a part of me did always get sucked into someone else’s misery while another got drunk in someone’s happiness. But it was never so that I couldn’t distinguish what I myself felt.
It was, to put it simply, impossible to describe. At least without seeming crazy.
And that was why I hadn’t had the courage to tell anyone about it, because while there obviously was something wrong with me, I wasn’t crazy. It was just an intuition, in a way, just something that was personal, the way a person’s scars were private to them.
This was mine, my own personal latent scar.

I’d been born in one of those large, obnoxiously collective families full of extremists. Everything was always all or nothing with them, but usually it was all, never nothing.
And family reunions, which weren’t really reunions considering they happened several times a month and were compulsory, went all out.
There would be enough food for a small third world country, cliché as it is, enough booze to put a bar to shame, and music loud enough for legit accusations of being noise pollution.
Add to that way too many people for one house of my size, and it was pure chaos. Not that anyone in my family was a psycho, or anything, they were just… unnaturally opinionated.
And naturally irritating.
But what else could you possibly expect from a family half full of Irishmen and half Italians?
But they weren’t all bad. I had to admit, I even had a favorite.
“Fratelli!” she called in her high, somewhat squeaky voice, and when I turned, a large smile had somehow found its way to my lips.
She ran into my arms, her small arms going around my neck as I picked her up.
“Hey, how are you, bambina?”
“Bello. Where were you last week, fratelli?” she asked sweetly, a pout settling over her features. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too. Will you forgive me?”
“No! You didn’t even call or nothing!”
“Anything, sorella,” I corrected patiently. “I’m very sorry. Please forgive me, Bella?”
She crossed her arms indignantly, rising her chin a fraction of an inch, a habit she picked up from her mom. “Bene. But promise you won’t do it again!”
“I’ll do better. I pinky promise.”
She giggled. “You’re so corny, fratelli.”
“Only for you, Bella. You know my heart belongs to you.”
She blushed red, burying her face in my shoulder.
“Figlio,” Bella’s father and my uncle, Ryan, called in his deep voice, coming to his daughter and I. He pried her away from me, carefully putting her on the floor. “Go play with the kids for a bit, Bella.”
“No, Papà—”
“Sh, Bella. Go,” I coaxed, knowing she wouldn’t listen to anyone but me unless I weren’t around. “I’ll come get you later, bene?”
She nodded, grinning at me, and ran towards the kitchen.
Bracing myself, I turned to my smirking uncle. “Si, zio?”
“How are you, ragazzo?”
“Buono,” I said easily, gesturing for him to follow me as I led the way outside. “You?”
“Alright. Your mamma told me about how you’ve been acting. Is everything really buono?”
“Si. I’m a teenager. It’s not unheard of, teenagers having attitude problems, you know,” I lied as we stepped outside.
He followed, closing the door behind us, and locked eyes with me as the wind blew, throwing my curls in my face and his short black hair into messy disarray.
I continued staring into his blue eyes evenly, just a shade darker than mine, distractedly noticing his posture. His mood told me he was trying to be serious, a task rather difficult for him since he was more of a laughing type of guy, and his body language agreed with the way he stood with his arms crossed.
“Figlio, she’s worried about you. You’ve always been reserved, but you’ve never been rude.”
I looked away, shoving my hands in my pockets. How was I supposed to tell him that I was trying, but it was just so difficult with the cold that leaked into our house despite the walls? Instead, I said, “I’m sorry, zio. I’ll apologize to her, too.”
He relaxed, placing a hand on my shoulder and tightening his fingers just slightly in a comforting manner. “Thank you. Now, not to ruin the moment, but I’m starving. Any idea what your mamma cooked?”
“Uhm, penne a la vodka, I think,” I muttered, stepping back into the house that was buzzing with life and excitement.
“Think she’ll let me get away with all my fingers if I try—”
“No,” I interrupted, shaking my head and laughing. “Not in this lifetime.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment as we made our way through the packed living room. “It’s worth a shot. I believe you promised my Bella something, no?”
I smiled, my still tense muscles relaxing slightly as I nodded. “Going there now. She’s probably outside.”
“Good. Maybe you can help me persuade your mamma to give me some food.”
I scoffed as we finally entered the kitchen bustling with women by the stove and men by the fridge, searching for drinks. “I live with her, remember? Good luck, though.”
I could still hear him laughing as I opened the backdoor. Just as I stepped outside, I froze for a moment, shivering as my insides chilled. Looking around, I finally saw why.
“Bambina!” I called, watching as she grinned at the new girl who stood at her fence in her backyard. “What are you doing?”
“You didn’t tell me you had a new neighbor, fratelli! She’s pretty.”
I rolled my eyes. “Come inside, Bella.”
“But—”
“Inside, Bella.”
She huffed, storming past me. “I’m not talking to you.”
“Bella!” I called, huffing when she continued on her way inside before turning to the girl staring at me curiously. Frowning, I turned inside, closing the door behind me.

“Ragazzo, what’s this I hear about you still being single? You shame the males in this family,” my grandfather said, his lips twitching. But his mood told me he was somewhat serious. “The Italian males in this family, that is.”
“Papà!” my mom exclaimed, trying to hold back laughter even as everyone else freely laughed, even the Irishmen.
“Let him answer. What were you saying, bambi?”
“Nonno,” I said uncomfortably, shifting in my seat. “This—”
“Fratelli has a girlfriend,” Bella said suddenly, taking my hand under the table. I was surprised—for a little girl, she was shockingly observant. “The girl next door.”
My mom turned to me. “Bambi? Is she talking about that Rylie girl?”
“No, mamma—”
“I suppose she is pretty. Huh, I wouldn’t think she was your type—”
“She isn’t! Bella’s just making things up, right, Bella?”
“Don’t chastise her, your secret’s already out,” my grandfather said, grinning now. “When are you bringing her to dinner?”
I helplessly looked around the table, at my mom who still looked stunned, Ryan whose shoulders shook with silent laughter, all my cousins and uncles and aunts, and, finally, my nonna.
“Leave him alone,” she said softly, leaning across the large table and lightly patting my cheek. “He’ll bring her home to us one day, right, Tesoro?”
“Si, nonna,” I lied guiltily, crossing my fingers under the table.
“Good. Now, I don’t believe this is good dinner conversation, so Ryan, why don’t you tell us about that new intern?”
Bella lightly poked my arm then, pointing at her plate.
When I saw the words “I’m sorry” written with pieces of pasta, I couldn’t help but smile and let it go.