Day 1
I dont enjoy asking people for things. If a closed mouth don’t get fed, i’ve been starving all my life. I can’t even tell you why. Pride? A desire to feel independent? As proof to myself that I am capable? All of the above? Today, there is no space for any of it. I have to call the last person I ever want to ask anything of. The person who had always been there for me in the past.
“Hey mom. How you doin?” I ask. I can hear rustling as she shifts positions. “Hey ‘Bias. I’m good. How are you?” she answered happily “Is that Tobias? Where you been? I thought you moved to Africa or something!” I hear my dad say. He’s joking because they both know how much I dream to see to see the world. I chuckle a little, completely understanding where he’s coming from. I rarely reach out to people. Not because I don’t enjoy talking to them. Simply because I don’t enjoy talking.
We’ve been catching up for a few minutes now. I’m basically uh huh-ing and yeahing throughout our conversation. On the inside, I’m anxiously trying to muster up the courage to let my parents know I need help. Stepping so far out of my character is a process, and judging by the sweat flowing from my pores, not an easy one. My throat feels dry. My heart is beating faster than normal. My palms are sweating. I’m so fucking nervous.
I finally conquer my anxiety, and explain my situation to my parents. I ask them can they help me to rent a hotel room. Honestly, I dont mind even living out of a car for a week. It’s not ideal, nor desirable, but i’ll do that shit. “Ok. Well, find a cheap room and we’ll see what we can do,”my mom responds. Perfect! “Why don’t you call your Uncle? Stay over there a few days,” my dad adds. “Oh yeah, I can do that,” I lie, knowing good and god damn well i wasn’t going to call my uncle. Why the fuck would you say that shit to me? You know that calling you was a last resort. What would make you think that calling my uncle was an option?? I haven’t even talked to him since the Christmas party at his house.. My immediate reaction is anger. Per usual, my anger is confined to my mind. “Ok. I’ll see what I can find…
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