Getaway

“One day, I’ll get out of here.”

“Out of where?”

“Out of… this house. This city. This country. This world.” My eyes were glued to the full moon glimmering in the sky.

“Where would you go? Venus?” Selvie asked, sitting beside me on the grass.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll backpack across the world.” I answered.

“Planet wise,” She specified.

“Mars is scientifically more livable.”

“Isn’t the point of leaving is to go somewhere different?”

“Well, then maybe I want to go somewhere where I can be different. Where things are different. Not a completely new universe, you know?”

That made her quiet for a moment, it was as if my words held meaning when I’m with her.

After a few seconds, she pointed with her head towards my family’s house behind us.

“What about them?”

I blinked, “I never said I want to vanish. I just… wish to start somewhere else.”

A pause.

“I’ve always wondered what would happen if I disappeared for a while. Like a two weeks getaway. Where I get to do whatever I want.” Disappearing with a time limit seemed more forgivable than leaving forever.

“I want to go far, sure. But I know I’ll always return home. It’s inevitable.” I said at last, already regretting all the silly confessions I spilled out, when I should’ve resisted the tempting lamination of the night that invited honesty. I chose to give her that piece of information, yet it feels wrong.

That night, I thought about just doing it. If I wait, I might end up waiting forever. So, I decided to do it. I will have my two weeks of freedom.

My alarm went off at six fifteen in the morning, I shut it off but not long after my mom barged into my room, rolling up my window blinds and muttering something about how I shouldn’t have stayed up late last night.

That morning I didn’t plug my headphones in on the ride to school. Instead, I listening to my siblings fight about who gets to sit by the window seat.

At school, I didn’t put my head on the table once. I slipped exchange notes with my classmates, joked more to watch my friends laugh, listened to music with a friend at a low volume so that we didn’t get caught.

At home, I ate two plates of pasta, because I knew it would make my mom happier, shortened my nap despite the temptation, and colored outside the lines with my siblings.

That night, after everyone went to bed, I packed a suitcase with necessities, variety of ‘just in case’ outfits, and a book I knew I wouldn’t read.

Quietly, I placed my temporary goodbye letter on the table in the kitchen. I knew I was being a selfish asshole; but I wasn’t so much of a horrible asshole as to not leave a letter reassuring my parents that I haven’t gotten kidnapped nor murdered mysteriously. And that I am sorry for doing this. With that, I left the house and got in my new rented car.

The clock read two twenty-four am on the dashboard. I plugged my phone in and played a random playlist.

Buckling my belt, I drove away from the neighborhood I spent my entire life in. I drove away from everything I’ve known. Somewhere far enough.

The adrenaline didn’t hit the way I expected it to. My hands were sweaty as they gripped the steering wheel, I pretended not to see them. I kept skipping songs, one after the other until I gave up, accepting whatever played.

The music wasn’t loud enough. I kept rethinking my choices. I could turn back home before anyone woke up, burn the letter, unpack my bags, hide under my sheets until dawn and repeat the normal daily cycle. But I’ve been stuck in that cycle for as long as I can remember, so I kept driving.

I parked in a free parking lot for the night. Finding a motel at this hour didn’t seem worth the risk. Plus, sleeping in cars felt like a part of the experience. I couldn’t summon sleep no matter how many sheep I counted. Eventually the sun began rising and my phone began buzzing uncontrollably.

My mom.

I let the phone ring. Over and over. Until I heard a knock on my window.

“Ma’am, you can’t park your car here.” A man said after I very hesitantly rolled down a quarter of the window.

“Oh, sorry.” I rolled the window back up, climbed to the driver’s seat, and drove away from the parking lot, and to the nearest fast-food drive through, having my first real meal ever since I left home. My phone kept ringing furiously, as if it were displeased by my little act of rebellion.

By afternoon, my phone was flooded with notifications. I kept driving because I didn’t know what else to do, until my car gave up on me in the middle of the road. When I got out of the car and checked the wheels, none seemed damaged, so I googled: What To Do When Your Car Stops Working? None of the results were helpful, I almost called my dad. I spent the next hour trying to fix an issue I was unaware of.

A car pulled up. “Is everything alright?” The woman inside asked, and I almost broke down there and then. I tried to sound calm but the tears in my eyes probably gave me away, because the woman came down to check my stupid cheap rented car herself. She asked a few questions before opening the hood. “Ah, battery’s loose.” She grabbed a small wrench from her car and taught me how to fix this issue myself next time.

“If it loosens again, use this.” She handed me the wrench.

“Thank you. You’re a savior.”

That made her chuckle. “Go home, kid.”

The next morning, I wasn’t sure what time it was when I woke up. Last night, I stayed in the car, crying because some random woman told me to go home. I sat there eating a bag of chips and pretending I didn’t crave my mom’s food so badly. Last thing I remember was opening the book I thought I would never read; which remains true because I fell asleep not long after I started flipping through its pages

In a nearby restaurant, I ate fries on pizza watching a family on the table across the place. I’ve always felt like I was watching from afar, just like I was doing right now.

This was going against how I wanted this getaway to be. This can’t go any further, or it would mean that this trip failed. Therefore, I headed to the mall, trying nail polish colors on display, until each of my nails were painted differently. At a Lego shop, a worker kicked me and a kid out for playing without buying anything. Bargained with a staff member to give me five scoops of ice cream. I left the mall with four scoops because that was the best deal I could secure.

I managed to book an available room at a possessed-looking motel, took a torturous shower where the hot water ran quickly, then lay in bed. When I turned to the side, my eyes caught the sight of a spider making its way up the wall by the nightstand. I jumped so fast, searching around for any weapon that could spare me from that creature. But nothing useful was nearby. I couldn’t ignore it. It didn’t seem like the spider plans on immigrating, especially not if I was the one invading its home. So, I put on a jacket and left.

I rattled through the items in my car, grabbing some cash I left there just in case I got robbed in my sleep, then headed to the convenience store. As I stood by the gummies section, a voice startled me.

“Do you live in that thing?” A guy who seemed to be around my age asked, pointing with his head towards my car outside, parked under a lamppost that deprived it of any privacy, revealing all the belongings scattered inside.

“No.” My answer was quick, which made him raise a brow in disbelief. “Well, partially.”

He hummed.

“Why?”

“I saw you come out of it.” He replied.

“You’ve been watching me?” My tone sounded sharper than intended.

The guy glanced my way as if I was being ridiculously insane. “No. It just caught my eye.”

“Doesn’t necessarily mean I live in it.”

“It seemed like it. Plus, you confirmed it.” He spun behind me, disappearing behind another aisle.

“I didn’t confirm anything,” I shot back, grasping a random bag of gummies. “I said partially. I’ve got a motel room.”

“You shouldn’t tell a stranger where you’re staying.” He replied, walking.

I unconsciously followed. “You asked if I was living a car.”

“Exactly.” He kept walking.

I kept following. “What do you want from me, Sherlock?”

He stopped in his track, spinning around to face me with an amused expression. “I could ask you the same. You’re the one following me.”

I blinked.

“And it’s Irvan.” He went on, casting a look in my direction, one that I rolled my eyes at.

“What got you in such a bad mood?”

“You.” A pause. “And a rude spider in my room.”

“Did it insult you?” He jested and I wanted to add him with that spider on my kill-list. Instead, I sighed and headed to the register to pay for a bag of gummies I no longer felt like eating.

Irvan followed me this time, jiggling the keys of his car. “Wanna get out of here?”

“‘Stranger danger’ was your whole idea, wasn’t it?” I murmured, paying for the snack.

“I told you my name, we’re past the strangers faze. Unless you plan on going back to keep the spider’s company.” Technically, he had a point.

“Where to?” I asked, closing the passenger door of his black truck.

“I know a spot.” Was all Irvan said before he hit the gas, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

The windows were rolled all the way down, and I didn’t stop myself from leaning out, letting the breeze brush my hair. He only drove faster and I realized all I needed was the rush of fresh air in a car I didn’t have to be the one driving.

I dipped my head back inside, “Is this the part you take me to a deserted area and sell my organs?”

Irvan laughed for the first time since I met him ten minutes ago. “Do you think I’d risk you losing your head if I planned on making you my merchandise?”

I shrugged, smiling. “Maybe it’s part of your scheme.”

He shook his head, smiling back. Forgetting all my worries back at my motel room; I wanted this moment to stretch longer.

Irvan pulled up outside an office building, led us to the emergency stairwells where we climbed endlessly, higher and higher. Once we reached the entrance leading to the rooftop, he gripped the handle, pushing. On the third push, the door swung open, revealing the view of all the city lights glowing beneath the night sky. I forgot why I was breathless.

Irvan got comfortable on the ground. He had a cigarette between his lips as he pulled a lighter from his pocket. I sat beside him, my eyes watching him light it up. “You smoke?”

“Yeah. Occasionally.” His voice was muffled due to the hand he brought up to block the air from blowing off the fire. “Why? You got a say in that?”

“Nope. Do whatever you like.” I mumbled, returning my gaze to the view before me.

Beside me, Irvan took a drag, I could feel his eyes on me before he extended it my way.

The version of me that I’ve known forever would’ve told him just how damaging smoking is. But I don’t have to be the angel at his shoulder. And frankly, I don’t think he’d want me to be. Here, now, we can just exist in our faults.

The extended cigarette looked sinfully tempting, but isn’t that exactly how addictions start?

“I’m good.” I waved a hand. “Thanks,”

He didn’t say anything, he just raised his brows for a millisecond; and that was so much more than I could understand.

I pretended it wasn’t my first time sitting right next to someone smoking. Funny, considering I used to cough dramatically around smokers.

“You never told me your name.” Irvan mentioned, his voice softer than before.

I considered lying, but I saw no point in it. “Nyra.”

“Nyra,” he repeated. It felt so odd hearing my name coming from him. “So, who are you, Nyra?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that. I knew exactly who I was, yet I didn’t know at all. I did what I did best; I brushed it off. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would.” He said, unexpectedly honest.

“I don’t know how to answer that.” I confessed.

He hummed, thinking. “Who do you want to be instead?”

That, I had an answer to. “I don’t want to be a copy of anyone for sure. What about you?” “Maybe I’ll be an astronaut,” His eyes left the sky to meet mine. “And chase the moon.”

Was chasing the moon the equivalent of a two-week getaway? Perhaps I’ve been chasing the moon all along and I just didn’t know it.

We stayed up for hours, talking about everything and nothing all the same. There was something bittersweet in getting a taste of something we can never fully have.

I woke up in the back of his truck feeling the warmth of his chest against me, I was surprised he was still there. Leftover fast food lay around us, forgotten fries, burger wrappers, and half empty soda cans.

I knew this wouldn’t last, but I couldn’t leave without a proper goodbye. So, I began writing Irvan a goodbye letter while he ordered breakfast at a nice bakery we stumbled upon after hours of driving around aimlessly, giggling as we played eye-spy.

I was always good at goodbyes; this shouldn’t be difficult. Yet, it was.

When Irvan finally came back to our table carrying a tray filled with pastries we wanted to try, I quickly shut closed my notebook and discarded it on the side.

“Damn it. I forgot to bring utensils.” He grumbled.

“I got it,” I chuckled, getting up to complete the new task at hand.

By sunset we’d gotten kicked out of three libraries for being too loud, left halfway through a movie after running out of popcorn, shared slushies until our tongues turned purple, since ‘blue and red blend well.’

I waited until Irvan fell asleep, left my goodbye letter folded by his side, spent a few seconds looking at his sleeping form. He never looked more peaceful. I felt horrible for being the thing that disturbed it.

I cried in my motel room, because the spider never left, unlike me. I pretended it was a choice to walk away, when I knew I had to from the beginning. Maybe in another life.

Next morning, I decided I needed to stop waiting for things to happen and start creating them.

At a random restaurant, I pretended it was my birthday and joined a group of friends’ tables. The staff were nice enough to offer me a free cake, one I shared with a bunch of strangers that sang happy birthday to me as I blew out the candles. This birthday was fake, but it was the most celebrated birthday of my life. Not because my birthdays were brushed off, but because these strangers celebrated it out of sheer choice. It was like watching birds fly, wishing you had wings too.

What I never imagined doing was auditioning for a theater role, reading the monologue lines, and improvising so much I might’ve believed myself to be a different character from what the writer originally intended.

“End scene.” One of the casting panels said after I was done, and I realized it wasn’t just the end of the scene; it was the end of my gateway escape, too. It was time to go back home.

I never wanted to fall far from the tree; I only wanted to fall on my own.

My multicolored chipped nails tapped rhythmically on the wheel when my phone suddenly rang, displaying an unknown number. I glanced its way, the air wafting through the rolled down windows rattled some pages of my opened notebook on the passenger seat, revealing handwriting that wasn’t mine. Once I paused by a red light, I leaned forward to grab the notebook, knocking down the wrench the lady gave me.

I peeked through your notebook; sue me. I don’t have much time since you’re only getting utensils, but I wanted to tell you that I was never good with goodbyes. I never know what to say, and even now I don’t. Maybe we exist in another universe where we’re on the run from the cops, but we are too pleased with the siren sounds and the reflection of the red and blue lights. If not, then we’re two giant spiders scaring people out of their motel rooms. I hope one day you’ll be able to fight spiders yourself. Don’t think that I was ever going to let you have the last word, Nyra.

Irvan.

Irvan’s words made me laugh and cry at the same time.

I kept driving until my house came into view, dimly lit at the time of day when everyone existed peacefully. With the box of leftover birthday cake and bags left in the parked car, I approached the threshold. Afraid of what would happen next. And glad I was back home.