with what was going on in Hannah’s life.
“You can sleep in the guest room, okay?”
I nod and follow her through the garage, my feet going frigid at being exposed to the cold of the pavement again. Hannah unlocks the door quickly and leads me up the steps, flipping on the light switch of the guest room. “Bathroom is across the hall, if you want to take a shower or anything.”
I stare at the bedroom: There’s a huge queen-sized bed, plenty of pillows. Definitely nicer than my room at home, but emptier too. There aren’t any pictures on the walls, or little toys on the dresser.
“Here.” Hannah folds back the mirrored doors of the closet and grabs a stack of blankets. “Get some sleep. We’ll figure things out in the morning, okay?”
I nod again and stare at the bed. Hannah looks like she wants to add something else, or hug me, or tell me it’s all going to be okay. But she doesn’t do any of those things.
Guess even she knows it won’t be.
She closes the door behind her, leaving the room even emptier.
I undress down to my boxers and pull back the sheets, crawling into the soft, unused bed. I toss and turn, but after a few minutes it’s obvious I’m not going to be sleeping tonight. Every time I close my eyes I see their faces. So vivid, right there in front of me, yelling. And when I open them, there’s nothing but the dark loneliness of the bedroom. I reach over to the remote on the nightstand and flip through a few of the channels on the TV, my eyes settling on a rerun of The Golden Girls.
Because I can’t be alone right now. Not tonight.
Thanks for being a friend, Betty White.
Yesterday actually happened.
It takes me more than a few minutes to realize it wasn’t some super vivid nightmare, or a fever dream or something. It was really real.
I came out to my parents, and they kicked me out of the house.
To think I’d been ignorant enough to believe it’d go well. I really did. I thought that we could still be this happy family, no secrets between us. I could actually be me. And I should’ve known better than that.
And now everything is over.
Everything.
I don’t know whether to cry or scream or do both. It feels like I’ve done more than enough of both. And it feels like I haven’t done enough.
And at some point, I know I’m going to have to crawl out of this bed and pick up the pieces, but right now it can be just me. Just me, these four walls, and this bed.
The universe doesn’t have to exist outside this bedroom, and that’s perfectly okay.
“I still can’t believe them.” I hear Hannah’s voice echo through the house as I make my way down the stairs, because there was only so long I could stay in my own little universe.
“He just called from a pay phone?” That voice I don’t recognize, but it’s deep and gruff. I’m guessing that’s her husband. Thomas?
There’s only so much you can learn about someone on Facebook without actually friending them. That probably sounds a little creepy, but I couldn’t risk Mom or Dad going on my profile and seeing “Hannah Waller” on my friends list.
“When it was thirty fucking degrees outside.” Hannah drops something into the sink so hard that I’m guessing she’s broken whatever it was. I rub my eyes, unsure of what time it is as I try to guess where the kitchen might be.
“Hannah?” I call out, glancing around the hallway filled with pictures. There are a few I recognize from Facebook. Some from what looks like their wedding day, others while her and Thomas are out on a boat. They look happy together.
The door at the far end of the hallway swings open, Hannah pushing through, dressed in an oversized sweater and dark jeans. “Good morning.” She smiles, crossing her arms.
“Morning.” I run a hand through my hair, trying to make the curls in the back lie down.
“We made breakfast.” She leads me through the swinging door into the kitchen. The white guy from all the photos is at the table, empty plate pushed to the side. He’s sporting a beard and a shirt with a logo for a sports team I don’t recognize.
“Good morning. Sleep okay?” is all he asks me.
“Yeah,” I lie. My body must’ve finally shut down, because one minute I remember trying to laugh at something on TV and