Chapter Thirty-Four

 

<><> Miriam <><>

 

A week has passed since I left my life. Bailey, Jacinta, and I scattered into the wind and blew in opposite directions. Sure, Rutgers University isn’t that far away, but it’s still far enough that I’m isolated from the possibilities. I feel so disconnected from their new lives already.

And then there’s Chris.

Guilt festers at the way I left things with him. Lets face it…I left him before he could leave me. In my head I’ve convinced myself that he’s not right for me, but my heart is screaming that I’ve made a horrendous mistake and I would give anything for a time machine; give anything to have his arms around me right now. Instead, I’m stuck cleaning up Reece’s mushy cereal from the kitchen table and wiping down the counters in my dad’s kitchen. Sure, he welcomed me with open arms and lots of smiles, but as the days have passed, the reality of my situation has sunk in for everyone. I’m too old to be here. I’m too independent to live with my dad now, and his wife Lindsay is too young to act as my mom’s stand-in. She knows it, I know it, Dad knows it, but no one has said it out loud.

Reece is the only one overjoyed with my being here. And why wouldn’t he be? I read him stories, take him to the park, and sing him songs while giving him endless hugs. I’m pouring all of my need for love onto the poor kid because no one else is willing to give me what I need right now.

I’ve sent out a few resumes, but for the most part I’m stuck at home with Reece as Lindsay runs errands, goes to her yoga classes, and meets friends for coffee. Basically, I’ve become the built-in babysitter. I don’t mind spending time with my little brother, not at all. We haven’t really had this opportunity before, but I can’t help but feel that I’ve traded my freedom and happiness for everyone else’s expectations of what it means to be eighteen. I’m realizing it’s such a misconception. Being a teenager doesn’t have to be defined as living with your parents, or in a dorm, or with a bunch of sloppy roommates. No, it can signify living alone, having a job while attending school part-time so you can manage both, moving forward into adulthood in a healthy way with minimal trauma, despite having lost a parent so young. Why am I now realizing this? Is it too late for me? It’s not like I’ve sold the house yet. Still, I’m scared at the thought of losing everything. What if I fail? What if I can’t do it all alone?

“Miriam,” calls Lindsay.

“Yes?” I answer while rinsing out the dishcloth.

She bounces into the kitchen with Reece on her hip. Although he’s three, he’s still such a little guy. Lindsay is a tiny blond, a good half a foot shorter than me with a heart-shaped face and delicate features. She has a very peppy, get-up-and-go kind of energy – the very opposite of my mom’s laid back, calm, relaxed personality. The traits that always infuriated my dad since he’s a Type A, get-the-job-done-now kind of person. I often wonder why my parents fell in love all those years ago. Temporary insanity? Maybe opposites attracting isn’t such a good thing after all. This is another reason why Chris Loman and I just won’t work. Like attracts like, after all. Chris has a very similar energy to my mom – a little too laid back at times, fairly calm and easy – the total opposite of my constant neurotic buzz. Still, Chris did stay with me after she died. He stayed still and quiet right when I needed him to be, so maybe he is the calming influence I need. I just don’t know.

“Miriam? Did you hear me?” Lindsay asks, pulling my mind back to Connecticut.

“Oh, pardon?”

“You kind of went somewhere else there for a second.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’m heading over to the kindergym class with Reecey. Want to come and watch?”

Tempting. “No, I think I’ll stay here and search the job listings again.”

“Suit yourself. Your dad should be home soon. Have fun!”

She bounces away, leaving me feeling like I don’t belong here, like I’m a spectator to someone else’s life. I hang the dishcloth over the tap and head toward the glass patio doors, anxious to get outside for some fresh air. The stark patch of grass is strewn with colorful plastic toys, the clutter making me reconsider. It looks like a yard sale threw up all over the place. Not exactly the serene oasis, or dreamscape, I left in Buffalo. Normally everything is put away in its rightful place, if my dad has anything to say about it, but I guess Lindsay forgot before they left. The view has me feeling as low as ever. The only way to grab a vista is by the water, a walk I’ve taken on more than one occasion since arriving. There’s solitude by the water too and I cherish my precious moments there. It’s always better to wander down by the water after dinner, when the sun’s about to set and people are scarce, just about the time Lindsay and Dad sit down with a glass of wine to catch up on their day, right after they’ve put Reece to bed and I’m feeling like the third wheel.