"I'm not gonna settle down, no way! That's how shit starts, you know? When you start having things of your own. Things you ought to defend."
And here she was. Crying and screaming in a tiny apartment above a garage. She wasn't even sure where she stepped off the path to end up here. Trying to remember what came first: Sean, the real job, the dog, the car, the apartment. It all just happened so fast. And if not what was first, when she started protecting it.
It was definitely Sean first. Maybe it was all his fault. He was just some guy, just another fuck. But then she went to see him. He was all alone, and he had nowhere else to go. Just a small run down garage he worked out of and a little living space above.
Then came Daniel. He just walked in off the streets one day and laid down in the shade of the garage. They may both have taken care of that little pup, but it followed her and ran to her when it was scared. It was definitely her dog now.
Then came the job. He couldn't do it all on his own and it wouldn't be fair to let him try. Real jobs where they didn't have to worry about being shot or not paid. Not American level restrictive job jobs, but at least legal. Legal always brings rules. Even in Mexico, she had to fit a standard. Cover the tattoos, cover the hair, clean clothes. But legal brings stable money, you work you get paid, no matter how good you do. Not as much money but reliable.
And with money and a garage came a car of their own. Not much but it got them around. But the car needs gassed, needs fixes. Always needing more money, never saving enough to leave this average lifestyle.
She was reminded there was a lot to be said for a real bed, a roof, hot showers, a fridge and oven. More than three sets of clothes. A few things that brought back memories, some nice things it felt empowering to own.
You don't want to lose it. The lure of freedom goes away a bit when you remember you crapped in buckets and bailed water out of your tent. And he doesn't want to go back. You don't want to lose him. You don't want to take the dog back out there, he seems healthier here.
The nail in the coffin was when Sean's business started gaining good reputation. That's when money stopped being one problem and became another. Their little apartment and garage got a bit nicer. Town became a place with friends, not just people who thought you didn't belong or were causing trouble.
The most dangerous idea to the way things were- "Home". When did this place start being home?
Little things here and there. A cabinet for food, a bigger mattress for the floor, things for the new dog. Stuff for the car, some furniture, a heater, then a fan. Cooking utensils, a plunger. At what point were they buying what they needed to keep going, and at what point were they settling in? Eventually you think about the stuff. You get a lot after a while and it would be useless out on the road and in the camps. Do you sell it, throw it away, leave it behind? Maybe a storage unit? Can you even get rid of it now? It's yours, you earned the money for it. You forget what it was like to not own things.
This isn't you, this is everything you didn't want. And then the regret hits. That one memory.
"I'm not gonna settle down, no way! That's how shit starts, you know? When you start having things of your own. Things you ought to defend."
This was as far as possible from what she wanted back then- no attachments, no responsibilities. Now she was afraid to lose what she had gained. And had to face what she had lost and forced to gain. Brown hair, makeup and sleeves over ink, schedules, bills.
That's what it was. She grew up. And she wasn't sure if she could go back. There was too much to lose for too little to gain. She felt trapped. By affection, by accomplishment, by safety, comfort, things.
Maybe that's all her old life was, running from those things. Trying to stay free and unburdened. But even the bird builds a nest, finds a mate, raises offspring. It tries to make its life easier, does what it takes to survive.
So now what? Run? Stay? What would she lose if she did something? Pros and cons? That's not her, it was never her, why is it her now? .
Never missed rent, never missed a car payment or bills, never lied to miss a day of work. Was that still her old self or someone new?
That's when the existential crisis hits you.
Who am I?
Is that old me still there?
Do I want to go back to her?
Am I better off now? Is this just what I want now?
Who I am? Is this who I want to be?
The ink is still there, but it has to be hidden so much it feels like it isn't. The hair is there, but it's boring now. The clothes that smelled like weed. They didn't even smoke anymore.
Is this what the 70's were like? Most of the hippies from the 60's must have integrated into the world they stood against. How many of them went through this exact crisis, asked these same questions, cried these same tears? And had she just been living the trend those people set before it was cool?
But the alarm went off. She'd woken up early when this hit her, and now it was time to go back. To put on that cheerful face. Cover her arms, put up her hair, use the service voice. Wipe away the tears, put on the makeup. Tell Sean she loved him, and she'd be back later.
Maybe today that is a lie. Maybe today she doesn't come back. Just cuts those ties that bind her and run. Don't even show up to work. Take the car and go. She can always go back north, no one is looking for her, and no one can chase her if she does. Start over, go back, find who she used to be.
Or maybe today is the day she accepts it. This is her now. She doesn't hate who that is. She doesn't hate what she has. Yesterday she was happy. She was loved. By Sean, the dog, her regulars, people they'd met over the years. She belonged. She was home.
Sometimes prisons are so nice you don't realize you're in one.