My eyes yearned to glance towards the window, but I kept my gaze on my work, knowing full well that the murky sea green curtain had simply fluttered due to the whispering breeze outside- not committed enough to be a wind, but not faint enough to be a draft. I knew beyond that window, the outside world was not worth my inspection. The unchanging landscape was always blotched with the same greens and browns hidden under the sheet of white that I worked next to every hour. A silent forest in the winter, begging to be noticed, despite my constant rejection.
My hands were busy fumbling with bundles of clothing, pepper sprays, maps, and shoes that I was frantically attempting to shove into a suitcase. I was so determined to complete my task as quickly as possible that I didn’t notice the screech of tires sound outside my cabin. Convinced that there was something I was forgetting, I stalled long enough to scan my empty closet, with its bare clothes hangers clicking against each other. In that one moment of rest, I wondered if I would miss this place.
My short moment of contemplation ended as soon as it had begun, for a sharp knock on the door broke into my thoughts. The knock was similar to the person that I knew was standing outside: short, harsh, and to the point. Following my silence, a voice came from the other side. “Open up, Miss Brennan!” I know you’re in there!”
I closed my eyes in an attempt to control my temper- I knew too well that the heat creeping up my face was an indicator of my subsequential anger betraying the fact that I have at least a few emotions. I stomped as loudly as my boot bound feet would allow across the hardwoods and towards the clear glass door- the one that I usually covered in order to ignore whoever came knocking. This time, however, I reluctantly yanked open the door with a loud “swoosh” and scowled down at my landlord who stood at least a foot shorter than I . Putting on no efforts to conceal my irritation, I simply told him,
“No need to make this conversation longer than it needs to be. I’m out of here. Happy?”
I saw his thick black eyebrows shoot up almost to the top of his shiny bald head that I could almost see my reflection in.
“No, Miss Brennan, I’m afraid I’m not. You see see, once again, you’ve violated one of my few rules.” He pulled a folded piece of paper out of his wrinkled khaki pants and stood on the tips of his toes to shove it into my face.
“It says clearly here in your leasing contract that I don’t allow visitors.” He squeaked in his brisk voice.
I knew the rules, but I simply didn’t care. Not at this point, when I had one foot out the door.
“Mr. Hawkhauser, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never had any visitors, and I’m leaving today anyway. What are you going to do, kick me out?”
I had likely shot down his motive for coming here the moment I announced my departure, but the angry, red-faced little man wanted to get what he came for.
“I have photographic evidence, Miss Brennan. Taken outside your apartment at 4:32 a.m.”
Before he said this, I was being rude to him simply because I generally disliked the man. However, once I realized he had set up a camera without my knowledge, my anger mounted.
“You videotaped me?! There was nothing that I signed in our leasing agreement that even hinted I was ok with–”
My jaw dropped as the picture came into focus. I recognized the familiar bulky figure that stood in the empty space right outside the window that I had just earlier refused to look out of. The picture was my wake-up call, and I snapped back to my task at hand. Not caring enough anymore to be even remotely kind got my ex-landlord, I simply closed the front door in his face, gathered my remaining belongings, and flew out the side door with peeling red paint.
I felt my feet command my body through the snow and into the Jeep. I could see my breath in front of me mimicking the smoke of a signal fire my ancestors made years and years ago- a fire telling me to retreat, to get out of here. Never in a million years would I have thought that he would show up here. My normal reaction of anger and frustration tried to break through, but was dominated by confusion and fear. I turned the key in the ignition and put the car into drive, but was blocked by another intruder. The neighborhood cat who had seemed to adopt my cabin as its home was waving its long, charcoal black tail in my headlights.
“A black cat. Aren’t you poetic.” I scoffed, trying to make a serious situation humorous. I opened my car door in an attempt to shoo it away, but the cat jumped right in and made himself at home in my passenger seat, leaving a trail of snow on my ripped jeans. I didn’t have the time for this! I was trying to flee! I picked him up and began to deposit him on the snow covered driveway, but his sharp claws dug into my mud green sweater. Normally I’d never forgive myself for losing a battle against a kitten four times smaller than me, but my heart had been beating out of my chest since Mr. Hawkhauser’s visit, and in my panic my stubbornness was wounded, so I hit the gas.
I had only an inkling of where I was going. My jean jacket was a weak opponent against the Springfield winter, but I couldn’t do without it on this journey- the pockets were so large that they made up for the lack of space generally found in women’s clothing. To fight the cold, I turned the heat up so high that it ruffled my shoulder length brown hair up against my freckled face.
I began to plan in my mind, and decide where my next residence would be. I was used to relocating, and always had a few places in the back of my mind. I decided on Nashville, Tennessee- I had an old college roommate that lived there, last I heard, and I always hated country music, so why not make myself even more miserable than I was now?
It was only now when I began to calm down and sort through everything going on in my mind. I was comfortable watching the city disappear behind me. I was used to this; I had spent my whole life running away in some sense. Still, I had grown to partially enjoy my job as a journalist for the local newspaper, and the one friend that I had made in my time here.
Right on cue, my phone rang, making me jump for a moment. A picture of two smiling women was glowing on the screen: one with beautiful, ebony skin and wonderfully messy curls, and the other with a questioning look in her eyes, hands buried into her jean jacket. The name read “Serafina Carby”. The stowaway kitten looked disapprovingly at me, as if she was judging me for looking away from the road. I clicked the hands free bluetooth speaker phone that was built in to my Jeep, and gave a slightly sad “Hello” to my best friend on the other end.
“Brennan Rhodes!” her excited, jovial voice screamed into the phone. “Where were you today? I thought you said you’d never leave me in the hands of those fake socialites in the office.”
I smiled, and replied, “I’m sorry Fina, but something came up. I’m afraid you’ll have to brave the office without me…for awhile”.
The youthful voice on the other end was dripped with worry as she asked, “What do you mean? Brennan, what’s wrong?”
I sighed, and tried to answer with as much empathy as I could, which I was not used to. “Fina, I moved out today. I have to get away from here. I wish I could understand, but I really will miss you. Pick up my last check, will you? I didn’t have time to stop by, and I really didn’t want to have to say goodbye to you. But I promise I’ll check in every week, I’ll call you.”
Fina didn’t answer for a while. When she did, she spoke very softly. “Brennan, please tell me what’s wrong. Do you need somewhere to stay? You know my apartment’s always open. How could you just pick up and leave? What about me, what about that nice guy that you met the other night?”
I tried to sound as casual as possible, and quickly replied, “Fina, I’m totally fine. You know I love you and I’ll miss you like crazy, but I just wanted to get a fresh start. I don’t like being tied down.”
“But–”
“I’ll be completely fine, Fina.”
Fina sighed. “Ok, Brennan. Can you at least tell me where you’re headed? So I can come see you? And I can tell Michael where you are, he said he had such a fun time with you the other night–”
“No, no I can’t Fina. Please don’t mention this to anyone. Especially Michael, promise?”
“Brennan, you’re really worrying me–”
“I promise I’ll call you when I get settled. Don’t worry! Hang in there. Bye, Fina.”
I hung up the phone before she could protest again. I really would miss Fina. She always tried her best to get me to socialize, and she was always introducing me to her guy friends, who she had no romantic interest in. I had my best laughs on our nights out when multiple men threw themselves at her feet, and she finally got so sick of it that she introduced them to her girlfriend, Layla. I almost felt a tear coming on, but I pushed the sadness out of my mind before it could cloud my vision. I had to get far tonight, and I wouldn’t let some emotions hinder my driving. Not my emotions, and certainly not the cat that was now meowing and purring on my lap. I was stuck with it now- not even I was heartless enough to abandon such a tiny helpless creature in the snow. I might as well name it if I can’t get away from it.
I decided to think of what I would have named myself if given the choice. “Hmmm…Maleficent?” I asked the animal. It almost seemed to hiss in disapproval.
“Gladiator?” A similar reaction followed.
“Ohhh, I see. You want to be the good guy.”
I really had let the traumatic events of my day get to me. Here I was, talking to a cat as if it knew what I was saying. I decided on my most favorite writer for the next choice.
“Twain?” I asked.
Of course, this was a cat I was speaking to, so I took its silence as affirmation. I turned up the music in my car to fill the empty air, as the car was too quiet with the absence of the sleeping kitten’s purrs. I immediately went to change the radio station when I heard John Mayer’s Daughter on the station. I couldn’t get it to change for the life of me, as my fingers were still frozen from the outside air, and the radio buttons were miniscule. The song melted through my skull, penetrating my mind, and forcing me to remember the worst night of my life, in which the song had played. I was frantic now, I wasn’t watching the road, but punching different buttons, I didn’t care what I pressed, I just needed that song to go away–
Fathers be good to your daughters
My father stood over my brother and I, all three of us crying, I was screaming in terror
Daughters will love like you do
I was eight years old, I was terrified.
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
My father’s bearded face was twisted in confusion, anger, and shock
So mothers be good to your daughters too
“Mom!” I was screaming, but no one could hear me.
I snapped out of it as a car horn honked loudly. I was going ten miles under the speed limit. The radio was static, and it must have been for a while. I wiped a tear off my freckled cheek. Twain hissed as the car passed me rapidly.
I hated that song.
Realistic Fiction
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this story is amazing! I can’t wait to see what happens next!