This wasn't what I was expecting. I was expecting a town a little more rundown, something a little more like I was used to. Apparently, according to Bishop Street, I was in a very well-to-do neighborhood. I suppose the fact that Yale was about a mile down this the hazy road in the late afternoon had something to do with the visual appeal.

No, this was a quaint town. There were trees here. Nice,strong old ones. It was clean. I figured it'd be hoity toity, but not until I got into this vicinity did I realize this was really some ritzy neighborhood.

Figured.

Only an hour ago did I figure out that Brooke had been going to Yale for nearly ten years now. Her father had money, but still. To me, that's a long time to be spending at university. Especially an expensive one. She was getting a degree in graphic arts. I knew my way around those arts degrees, and personally, I think daddy was just getting her out of his hair. Something was fishy.

I quit community college after my associates because I needed to make money. Like anyone else.

And consequently, I made lots of bad choices. Idiot choices.

Had lots of terrible ideas. Juvenile, immature, impudent ideas that made me end up here, driving slowly down Bishop Street in New Haven Connecticut, looking for a friend's house whom I hadn't seen in, well, almost ten years. So I don't always blame my problems on everyone else. Only in the last year did I stop playing that game. Because now I know I'm the one responsible for the problems I have in my life now.

But enough with the crying about it. I'm sick of crying. I need to find this address that I'd hastily scribbled down on the back of a coupon book, because my life as I knew it was over now. I needed to put away the old chapter and start a new chapter. Part Two. Setting not necessarily to be in Connecticut, but I felt that it should begin somewhere away from what I used to call home. It was an idea that hadn't left me alone since... well, I don't want to get into that right now.

So on this abnormally warm day, with the sunlight flickering in my eyes and aggravating me, I felt this was turning this into a most unfulfilling prologue.

These lovely Neo-Victorian style homes were throwing me for a loop here. I was expecting short apartments. A little campus-like, sure. Neo-Victorian architecture, colors and bricks and all? No.

And there it went. That light blue house with the number 401 on the mailbox.

I had to go all the way down to the stop sign and repeat the directions. Growing up in one-way streets, all towns and cities felt the same. The sense of direction came naturally to me, as if I could see myself moving on the map in my head. It's those winding country roads that screwed me up. I'll take a city grid any day.

So this is Brooke's house. Tall, narrow, kind of like herself. Was that coincidence? I didn't recognize any cars, obviously, but she said she'd be home. So I pulled into the narrow driveway with my tail end obstructing the sidewalk. I wasn't sure if I could even park in this spot, but hey, it's only temporary. I texted her, anxiety suddenly setting in as soon as I thought of getting out of my little two-door Toyota, calmed my nerves while I waited for her reply.

No, I told myself. I accept this. This has to be done. There is no way I could have stayed there. This is not impulsive. This is not another bad decision. I'm not compulsive. I'm not – the familiar chime. It never worked.

Brooke: Be down in a sec.

This seals the deal, doesn't it?

I stepped out into the warm September air, catching a whiff of the musty smell of fallen leaves in the dampness. The walk was short and I nervously stood at the bottom of the steps, painfully aware of any passersby that should notice my restlessness. Thankfully, there were none.

And I was grateful for that, because Brooke opened the door and greeted me with such a big smile and with open arms. Have you not seen anyone from high school since we left? I let myself be embraced and squealed over. But I felt the strange aloof nostalgia that I always got when I reunited with old classmates, as I figured I would. I only knew these people by name. Personalities changed or became more exaggerated, usually for the worse. Brooke fell into the category of the unknown persona.

I'd known her as bubbly, friendly, and attractive, but now she looked middle-aged, that youthful charm faded, her spark faded. As if she knew how to carry on the façade, but the life inside of her was gone.

"Charlie, how are you! It's been so long!"

I extricated myself, wondering what ever possessed me to think that this was a good idea. "About ten years, yeah," I replied, looking up at her clear grey eyes. "This is a really nice place you have," was all I could muster up.

"Oh sure," she shrugged, "it's just a spot. I liked my old spot better. Nicer trees. But this'll do, I'm so close to my classes, you know? You got a lot of stuff? Come in, I don't want the neighbors to snoop."

I followed her in. They're already snooping, now that they see the Jersey plates in the driveway. Her home was even nicer in the inside, a vivid contrast against the antique accents of the century clashing with the 21st century decor. Well she had quite the spot, alright. I complimented her fairly, discovering that another tenant occupied the upstairs, while she had full reign of the main and lower floor. Nice pad.

"This is all so nice, Brooke," I said, setting down my water bottle and leaning on her galley kitchen counter, neglecting to ask her if her father paid for it all.

"It's good, it works. I don't spend a whole lot of time here, actually, only when I'm studying."

And then the awkward silence set in, because it had been ten years, and we both knew quite well that neither of us weren't the same person anymore.

"So what exactly happened back in Jersey, Charlie? Sounds pretty bad."

I glanced up at her. "It's..." Where do I start? I hardly know this girl. "It's complicated. I... I really don't know where to start."

"What did he do?"

I eyed her. "Is it always about a guy?"

She said nothing, looking back at me.

Anxiety. My heart raced. The fear of being disbelieved. I had to quell that. Brooke wasn't being malicious, she was just blurting out her initial feelings as she always had. She didn't know. "I had to get away from it all. If I stayed any longer…" Wow Charlie, way to share your feelings. "I mean, I don't want to be alone. I have no one down there. It's home but it hurts too much right now."

Brooke's mouth made a sympathetic oh. "And what about your sister?"

"She lives in South Jersey; she left a long time ago. We don't talk much. She's better than everybody, that kind of thing."

"Yeah, there's a lot of them like that out there," Brooke nodded.

"Kel could care less, anyway. She's got a fiancée now and—"

"And she's the golden child, right?" Brooke finished for me.

I nodded. If that's what you want to call it.

"I'm sorry, Charlie. You can stay as long as you want. I'm by myself here, I'm sure you can find a job somewhere – that is, if you want to stay that long."

"Yeah, I really appreciate it Brooke, really, I do."

"Don't worry about it," Brooke smiled, touching my arm. "Let's get your stuff out of the car, okay? I'll take you out tonight, my treat."

"Ah, you don't have to, I'm a little tired actually, you know, stress and all..."

"You'll feel better. Come on," Brooke gestured, and I gave up.