Page 2 of Alex

I’m still frozen in my spot, despite hands reaching past me to unhook IVs and monitors.

Looking past the blur of hands, I focus on Mom’s face. Even though she’s lost too much weight over the past couple of months, her face is peaceful and pain free.

Mostly from the morphine drip, but partly because she’s no longer here to feel the pain of the disease.

At least I can take solace in the fact that she died in her sleep.

After Mom is free from the cords and machines, several nurses turn their attention to me.

One nurse asks, “Do you already have a funeralhome in mind where you would like her services to be held?”

Another one speaks from behind me. “Is there any family you’d like to call to be here to help you in your time of need?”

A third nurse walks over to the curtains and flings them open before cracking open the window. At my questioning glance, she explains. “I like to set the deceased’s spirit free. I don’t want them to be trapped here any longer than they need to be.”

Her statement seems to activate the flood inside of me.

Emotions well up in my throat and eyes. My skin flushes from the growing anger inside of my chest. It’s hard to breathe even though I’m sucking in air.

It’s too soon. Mom was still young. She could’ve had several more decades to live and be happy.

I suck in another lung full of air and all I can think about is getting out of here.

Jumping up, I push past the nurses and doctors as I race towards the door before following the all too familiar path to the main doors of the hospital.

The warm spring air is like a slap to my face. I have to get out of here. I need to be away from all the sympathetic glances and the never-ending questions.

I have no friends, but luckily it’s the weekend, and I live in a small town, so I know where everyone my age is going to be.

The beach.

It doesn’t take long until the crash of the waves and the laughter from the party reach my ears.

I take a deep breath and fill my lungs with the salty sea air. It instantly calms my nerves and for a second, it lets me forget where I just came from and what I’m going to have to do in a few days.

A dry laugh escapes past my lips.

My mom just died and how am I planning on spending the night? Getting drunk at a rich elite beach bash.

I’m the complete opposite of these kids. I’m a jobless college dropout who wears hand-me-downs and who’s now homeless.

Whereas they wear name brand clothing, drive expensive cars, and live in mansions.

They don’t know me, but I know them.

I’ve envied them my entire life. How could I not? They’ve been handed everything their entire life, while Mom and I struggled to stay warm and find food.

Mom worked two jobs while I worked one just to make enough money to pay our bills. We had no money in savings. We never had a rainy day fund where we could go crazy and blow it on a fun adventure.

We lived paycheck to paycheck. Hell, there were several times where we couldn’t pay our bills and went without power.

I shake my head at those memories and walk along the outskirts of the party. I’m here for the booze, not the festivities.

Several people linger around the beer cooler, so I wait for them to leave before reaching deep into the icy water. I wrap my hand around the bottle and pull it out of the cooler.

I walk down the beach towards the pier, away from the fun and laughter, and away from everyone. Just like I like it. There’s no drama when I stick to myself.

I head to my favorite spot on the other side of the pier. Noone ever comes over here. It’s rocky, with barely any sand, but it’s peaceful and quiet.

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