Week 7: A Runaway

I always loved how different the lighting seemed in the morning. Bright, but not blinding. Soft, but still noticeable. As I walked along the road to the movie theater I make those sorts of small observations. I rarely see this sort of lighting for more than a few minutes on the way inside school, and by the time I come out it had ebbed away into a mundane sky. The air is crisp, not terribly hot nor humid. Filled with ambience from the racing cars besides me, I feel as though I am not alone.

It is 9 o'clock in the morning. I've run away from home, and the atmosphere is perfect.

Well, "run away" is probably too severe a term. And not really accurate; I do intend on coming home afterwards. "Sneak away" is more accurate. No one knows I'm heading off on this adventure. I still vividly remember what lead to me deciding to go yesterday night.

It was dinnertime, a few days after we had an argument. Something petty, but neither of us were backing down and fought back in equally petty ways. I refused to sleep in our shared bedroom, or cook for her. She makes a show of scooting her seat a good feet and a half away from me at dinner; suddenly yanks away a dish as I was reaching for food. For her talk of maturity, she was acting pretty childish herself.

So that night I decided I have had enough. After her usual show, I move my seat closer than it was originally. She moves my seat back even further--while I am seated I might add-- and I simply get closer again.

"She's too close to me!" my sister yells. I roll my eyes at the apparent hypocrisy.

"What is going on with you two?!" My dad finally joins in. I understand his confusion. We're usually the best of friends, talking of games and watching shows together everyday. I say nothing, giving an oblivious look.

"She has no responsibility!" And her answer stuns me. It stings, not that I wanted to show it. Of everything she could've said, that was among the worst.

I don't think I've ever downed a bowl of noodles that fast before. I was desperate to leave the table, be by myself.

That night, as I languished in a mix of self-loathing and contempt, I hatch my plan. I would walk to the movie theater (I could not drive) and catch a morning showing of a movie both of us had been looking forward to. With things as they were were now, I figured she would not take me before the movie was out of theaters. Exhilaration swelled within me as I realized I was committed to this plan. I needed to get out of the house, and this was a good form of pay-back, I thought. I try my best to get to sleep early.

Sneaking out of the house was easy. I awoke at 5:30, discretely made a breakfast of coffee and a Hot Pocket. While awaiting for the most opportune time to depart--9 o'clock for a 10:30 showing-- I was far too antsy. My sister was going to a friend's today (or so I thought) and if she decided to get ready earlier than usual, my plan was completely down the drain. So at but 7:30 I left that dreary prison, while pointedly giving it the middle finger as I left (I will not claim to be the mature one in this situation).

 



Growing up in a place where everyone took cars everywhere, walking to the movie theater was a new, but welcome experience. It was usually a mere five minutes away. But on foot, the two miles became an hour long trek. Even though I was not acquainted with street names, I still knew the way well enough. It was a straight shot from my neighborhood to my destination.

The early morning made for a very pleasant walk. I had my earplugs in, listening to some new songs I found on Spotify. In my hand was a small water bottle. Now and then, when an ad break interrupted my music, I would turn around as a precaution against would-be kidnappers. Not that I truly believed someone would snatch me off the street--and indeed, not a single person shared the sidewalk with me that day-- but it didn't really hurt to be careful, right? Those silly thoughts only made the journey more memorable.

At 8:41, I make it to a grocery store across the street from the movie theater. With my casual pace, I was not exhausted from the trek but still I seat myself on a bench. The earliest showing of my movie is 10 o'clock, more than an hour to burn. I planned on walking around inside the grocery store, but before that I take the opportunity to record my thoughts down in a note on my phone. I had always enjoyed keeping a diary, and I knew I would want to record my feelings and revisit them later.

I expressed myself with no filter. Among other things, I wrote how I thought my sister was holier-than-thou, putting up a fake, cutesy act. I even admitted to stealing money from her for the movie. It was liberating, in a way, and I couldn't help but smile as I entered the grocery store.

I buy only a bottle of garlic powder. I considered buying a box of candy, but then thought it would not sit well with my stomach to have so many sweets so early in the morning. At 9:30 I head to the movie theater (and no one ever tells you how terrifying it is to cross a busy street).

Inside, it is totally empty, as would be expected on a weekday morning. I buy my ticket and mill about the lobby, for I had still arrived rather early. At 9:47, I am seated inside the theater writing my second entry.

There is no one else with me, I note. I planned to turn my phone off during the showing. If someone was going to notice and call, I did not want it do ruin the movie. As I waited for the previews to start, I imagined turning my phone back on to a flurry of phone calls and angry text messages.

Did I want that? Proof that someone was worried? So pathetic.

After penning that down, I shut my phone off and enjoyed the movie.

It was an excellent watch. With the credits rolling, I power up my phone. Not a single call or text. Was I disappointed?  Maybe a little, but I took it as an okay to stay out until dinner. It was then noon, and I went to lunch at a fast food place back near the grocery store. As I'm eating, I do finally receive a call. It's from my mom. I don't want to worry her more than I already have (and I'm certainly not mad at her) so I pick up after a few rings.

"Where are you?" she asks softly in her native tongue. I cannot speak it very well, and likewise she cannot speak English very well. I try my best to relay to her what I had done, and where I was. Of course she was exasperated that I had walked so far. She wants me to come home. I try to say I am going to a bookstore, and will be back soon. With my poor speaking skills that doesn't quite get through, but still I reassure her I will be home soon. I leave at 2 o'clock.

And it is then I realized making it to the bookstore would be impossible. The summer heat is in full force now, beating down on me relentlessly. The bookstore was another two miles past my neighborhood, and only half of the way there I was quite fatigued. Before I had to call my mom to rescue me off the side of the road, I decided to just go home.

On the way there my mom calls me a grand total of three times. She asks me if I'm coming back soon, warns me of creepers that would pull me into their vans. It's heartening and amusing at the same time. I regret unintentionally hurting her.

When I come home, I am covered in sweat. And as I walked in, I see the computer room door swing closed, my sister inside. I ignore her and see my mom. She hugs me tightly, and uses a word I had not heard before. I assumed she said something to the effect of "I thought you ran away". I say I'm sorry, and go to shower.

I left my movie ticket in a place my sister would definitely see it, so she would know what I had done without speaking to her. It must've worked, because the ticket is gone the next day. I took great joy in imagining her angrily crumpling it into the garbage (for she always kept her tickets as a souvenir). That day, I felt I gained a sort of triumph.

After that adventure, we did not speak for the remainder of the summer. There was no real resolution to the conflict, either; one day we simply started speaking to each other like usual, as if we had not ignored the other's existence for the past few months. I cannot say I am without anger at her for what she said. I know without doubt she still means every word, stands by every action. Still, what choice do I have but to continue on as usual? I did start to miss her eventually. It's not worth it to continuously get hung up on the past. Maybe someday we'll be mature enough to speak frankly about it.