The door thuds behind me as my father pulls it closed. His hand on my shoulder, he leads me through the living room, past my scowling mother, and up the stairs.
At the top of the stairs, he pulls me into a hug.
"Go take a shower, get dressed. I'll talk to your mother," he whispers into my ear.
"Thanks," I say, my voice raspy.
I walk into my bedroom and grab a pair of jeans off of my desk chair and a shirt from the floor. When did I get so messy? Throwing the clothes down on the bed, I grab the rest of the mess off the floor and open my closet. I dump the dirty clothes into the hamper and a flash of blue catches my eye. I reach into the closet and pull out my graduation dress. Holding it up to my body, I look at my reflection in the mirror on the closet door. I sigh and put it back in the closet.
I scoop the jeans and shirt off of the bed and walk into the bathroom. I look in the mirror with detachment; that can't possibly be me. Deciding to skip the shower, I pull on my jeans and shirt. As I smooth the shirt over my stomach, I know what I must do.
Running out of the bathroom, I grab my suitcase from the hall closet. I throw it down on my bed and begin flinging clothes in it, whatever I pick up. I run back to the bathroom and grab my toothbrush, my medicine, and my makeup case. These things packed, along with a picture of my family, my favorite books, and the picture of Eva and me, I pull on some sneakers and a sweater. The last thing I do before I leave is grab my stash of 200 dollars from under my bed.
As I sneak down the stairs, every footstep is like an explosion in the near silent house. Avoiding the living room where I could hear my father's hushed, soothing voice talking to my mother, I slowly open the back door, wincing at the screech it makes as it swings open. I run around the back of the house and down the street to my car parked on the corner. I toss my suitcase on the backseat, climb in and start the car.
I'm gone.
After driving down the highway for an hour, I can feel the tears burn behind my eyes. I pull over to the side of the road and put on my blinkers, the tears now rolling down my face. In less than two hours, I've left eighteen years of my life behind me. What am I leaving behind? I took all my finals, I can get my diploma mailed to me, and I've already been accepted to college. My bank account, with all of my money saved for school, is in my name.
The only thing I'm leaving behind is Eva. Eva. Not only my one-time lover, but also my best friend. My comfort, my safe haven. I don't know if I can survive without her, but my mind is made up. I need to start over.
My eyes now dry and containing a fire of determination, I pull back onto the highway and drive to the nearest diner. I grab a twenty and walk into the diner.
The thing that hits me first is the overwhelming smell of grease, rancid and sickening. Choking back a cough, I am greeted by the middle-aged, bosomy waitress.
"Can I help you," she asked, not unfriendly.
"Yes, please," I say, "Do you have a pay phone?"
Smiling, she points towards the bathrooms.
"Oh," I say, looking down at my palm, "Do you have change for a twenty?"
Seeing my tearstained face and the confusion in my eyes, she gives me an understanding look.
"Come with me, sugar," she says with a gentle nod of her head.
I follow her past the greasy tables, gathering lewd smirks from the tough, wizened clientele of small-town rural workers, behind the counter, and through the kitchen, instantly assaulted by the intense cooking smells. Grease spits and hisses out of the deep fryers like some kind of dragon, while the oven groans and moans.
She takes me out behind the kitchen into a small room with a small table and chairs. Sitting down, she motions for me to do the same.
