2:56 :: h.s

vingt et un

4:56

I walk inside my childhood home and feel like collapsing on the tile.
The feeling of familiarity that my house brings makes me feel so comfortable and at ease.
It's only been a month, but I've missed this place.
I've missed my friends and just the city in general.
I walk through the foyer and turn on the light to the living room.

Everything is in its normal place.
The two half circle couches face each other, the pillows untouched.
The glass that stretches across the back of the room reveals the Las Vegas skyline.

I walk into the kitchen and turn the light on.
My hand pulls the refrigerator door open and I pull out stuff to make eggs.
I know it's five o'clock in the morning, but I'm hungry and I'm home so I can do whatever I want.
My dad walks past me to go to his room and doesn't say anything.

Good.

I finish making my eggs and head upstairs to my room.
This floor is almost the same size as the bottom floor and has most of the same components.
A living room, a balcony, an office, a bar with a massive amount of alcohol, a workout room, a movie theater, and a bedroom.
The second floor alone could fit three of me and my mom's house.
Just thinking about that makes me realize how different my life in Oregon is.
I could have just about anything I wanted when I lived here.
We had maids and personal chefs.
We would hold cocktail parties and events for my parents jobs.

When my mom and I moved, she had to leave her job and find one that didn't pay nearly as much.
My father made the majority of the money and my mom had a job because she felt like she needed one, but it was quite clear that my father could afford all of this without her.
Explains why he wasn't so broken when my mother caught him cheating.

I want to call my mom.
It's so early though and I drove half way.
If I would've had to stay in a hotel with my father, I might've just jumped out the window and ran home.
By 'home' I mean my mom's.

After I finish eating my eggs, I carry my things upstairs and go into my room.

Fuck, I've missed this room.

I flop onto my bed, kick my shoes off, and fall asleep.

::

12:03

I roll over and the desert sun shines into my room.
I stretch my arms over my head and climb out of bed.

My father is talking to someone on the phone outside when I walk into the downstairs living room.
When I go to open the fridge, a short woman with grey hair stops me.

"Harry, is that you?" Her thick Spanish accent is excited.

"Rosa!" I exclaim and wrap my arms around her.

She was always cleaning up after me, making me food, and teaching me how to be a a responsible young man.
She wasn't a nanny because my mum was usually around, but when she wasn't, Rosa was always there.

"Oh my! It feels like forever! Shall I make you something? I know you're hungry!" She teases.

I laugh, "you don't have to, I was thinking about going out with my friends."

"Oh, alright. Well, you're here for a week so I will have my chance!"

I make myself some cereal while she continues cleaning.
My father comes inside and I head upstairs to shower.
After my shower, I text one of my friends and ask him if he's busy.
Instead of answering, he calls me.
When I answer, I hear three other voices and they all scream at me, asking me if I was home.
I tell them yes and they cheer, shouting that they'll be over soon.

When I hang up, all I can think about is how Rae is doing.