I must be crazy.
"Hello, you have reached the cell phone of David Fisher. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as possible." Crap! Now David won't answer. COME ON! Why is NO ONE answering? And why can't stupid Mom get a stupid phone! Ever since Nate died she's been wanting closeness and the ONE NIGHT I try to get that, she's not there! Where IS she!
"This stop is... Canal St. Please stand clear of the doors." I walk out into the mobs, still feeling agitated and keyed up. How can he leave his cell off? How can Mom not have one? How can I get tricked into eating with my therapist! My therapist! What was I thinking? Why did I even come out here! Nate was right. I should have stayed with Ted-back in Cali. Maybe then my life wouldn't seem so senseless.
I rush up the steps, my head spinning with thoughts the whole way. What if I can't hack it here, what if I DO go home and Ted's gone back to fucking that office slut? What if...I go back and...Fuck! I don't know! I want things to be simple! Right, when have things ever been simple? My dad died when I was in highschool, I fell in love with an addict, and mom started broadcasting her sexual adventures at breakfast. God, who needs that right? We're eating eggs, we don't need to hear about yours.
"I'm sorry Miss, you can't go in there. This building has been quarantined."
"Wait, what?" I pause, suddenly realizing that I've made it home despite my brain clogging thoughts. This cop is standing by me in what appears to be his "official" stance, tight face, unemotional eyes, hands on hips. Though he's got a slight beard. The way he stands makes me think he's been DYING to have something to do all night.
"Ma'am, are you a tenant of this building?" he asks, his face nearly frozen in duty. What is that anyway? Relax dude.
"Yea, second floor."
"ID?"
"Are you kidding me?"
"Ma'am, don't make me force you." I roll my eyes and fish for wallet. This is NOT what I wanted to do tonight. This is NOT what I wanted to do ANY night. I just want to go home, get a little high, and sleep this off. Can't I get what I want for ONCE in my life.
"Happy?"
"As a clam Ma'am," he says flatly as he glances at my ID. He hands it back quick, rattling off a series of questions that don't make sense. Behind him two EMT's are loading couple of bodies in an ambulance, lights and noise blazing.
"Tired?"
"Yea..."
"Exactly how tired?"
"What?"
"On a scale of one to ten?"
"Why does this matter?"
"Look Ma'am, I am just doing my job. And part of my job is to make sure no one enters the dwelling until the health authorities have deemed it safe. Until then I advise you to stay with a friend and to please contact 9-1-1 if you experience any extreme fatigue." He starts to walk away when I jerk him back with my hand, desperate to end this night in a place I'm somewhat comfortable in.
"Wait, so I can't even go home! What about clothes? Am I supposed to just walk around the city with whatever's on my back?"
"Sorry for the inconvenience." He turns and leave, my hand still outstretched as he walks. So this is it? This is how the worst night of my life ends? Get chased out of my therapist's house JUST to be told I can't enter my apartment? What kind of shit IS that? Can't they spring for a night in a hotel? What do they expect us to do, call our friends? Right...what friends? The only thing closely resembling that are three thousand miles away. Fuck...
In my haze I turn around and hop the next subway, my body moving before my mind has the chance to figure out it's plan. The train zips forward, the stops blurring together into blotches of gray with spots of color and, just like my ride home, I am suddenly in front of a door with no memory of how got I there. With my luck it might be just as toxic.