My Ex-Bestfriend

Home sweet home

I head over to my Dad's house and am greeted with his traditional 3 second hug. It's the only time frame of human contact he can endure without physically wanting to shed his own skin. I know it's no insult to me. It's just how he is wired. My mom was the mushy cuddler, something I have craved for years. Thankfully Walt is my cuddle bug and obliges me.

Dad quickly declares that he needs to head into work for a few moments. I know my dad is just desiring his solitude that he is accustomed to and I can't knock him for that. Tomorrow he will be forced into a holiday dinner with people he too despises. Today he needs to recharge his battery before its on E.

I look around my childhood home and see how much it has always lacked a woman's touch but even more so now. It needs a good scrubbing and a few paint touch ups. I need a reason to escape spending time with our neighbors aka Mrs. and Mr. James so a to-do list is my saving grace.

I send a quick text to Michael:

Me: Dad's place is a disaster. I am going to have to stay over here the rest of the day to get it livable.

Michael : I can come over and help. It will get done twice as fast so you can come for dinner.

The only problem of having your best friend as your baby daddy is that he knows when I am avoiding uncomfortable situations, but two can play that game.

Me: That's sweet but I think my dad would prefer some alone time with me as well.

Michael: Allie, I saw your dad leave for his shop. I know he isn't there. It's fine if you don't want to come over tonight but tomorrow you better give an Oscar worthy performance of happiness with my family.

Me: A whole day with Mrs. James, what could possibly make me happier?!

*barf*

At least I am thankful he understands my need to distance myself for as long as possible from Mrs. James. He only sees her through rose colored glasses but for me she is anything but a saint. It's not worth my breath to try to explain things to Michael, he will ultimately see her side.

I work out my frustration in the bathroom, kitchen and living room til my knuckles ache and my muscles give out.

I take a long hot shower letting it loosen my tight muscles from work and stress. A day filled with cleaning has allowed my mind to ponder the what ifs with Michael. That somehow over the course of a few months I'm no longer vehemently opposed to rekindling our relationship.

Like every other time in my life that I have come to some ideological understanding I hear the thunderclap and rain streak my window.

"Grrrr." I say out loud to no one. I haven't "needed" anyone in years to coax me through my thunderstorm fears. Being back in my childhood bedroom with the nostalgia however has seemed to of caused my tolerance of the fear to be a little more intolerant. Walt has always instinctually kept me company and I miss that tonight.

I toss and turn and try to furrow my body deep inside the mattress but sleep escapes me. I'm mentally and physically exhausted but my fears keep creeping up preventing a restful slumber. I am no longer paralyzed by my fear but that doesn't mean I can blissfully sleep while a storm rages outside.

I hear a thud on the outdoor siding by my window that startles me. I assume a tree branch has fallen considering it's quite the storm. Then I hear the familiar rap of knuckles on my window as a soaked Michael emerges through.

In a flurry of covers being whipped off, window unlocked, and running for a dry towel to wrap a bone shivering Michael into it I howl, "ARE YOU INSANE?!"