Free This Book Does Not Exist by Mike Schneider Page B

no! I thought his clothes were rad for an old man……so I accepted
    who is he?

 
    Me : have you ever talked to him?

 
    Kirsten : nope
    you know him or you don’t either?

 
    Me : i’ve met him
    i ’m still not really sure what to think

 
    Kirsten : well he reunited us, sooo

 
    [She waits for me to respond. I don’t.]
    Kirsten : how are you??

 
    [Not sure what to type, I start and delete several times.]

 
    Me : i’m ok
    how’re you?

 
    Kirsten : eh, i’ve been better
    relationship stuff with my ex

 
    Me : sorry
    something you want to talk about?

 
    Kirsten : ummmm I don’t wanna bug you but thanks

 
    Me : sure

 
    Kirsten : hey where are you right now?

 
    [Why would she ask this? Does she know something?]

 
    Me : in ohio

 
    Kirsten : you visiting?

 
    [I decide to make something up.]

 
    Me : girl i know moved here to go to med school
    Geppetto hasn’t said anything to you about her has he?

 
    Kirsten : no
    would he?

 
    Me : sorta how he and i met

 
    Kirsten : what do you mean?

 
    Me : he helped unload her moving van, haha

 
    Kirsten : oh haha
    guess he was anxious to be your friend
    I’m in DC actually
    not THAT far away from you
    heading back to LA tho

 
    Me : when?

 
    Kirsten : leaving in the morning
    gotta escape
    when are you going back?

 
    [I don’t know how to answer. She must get impatient or nervous because she IM’s again before I can fabricate a response.]

 
    Kirsten : when you do we should hang out
    I want to hear how the writing’s going!

 
    Me : ok cool

 
    [Even though I type this I’m not convinced I mean it. I’m not sure I am going back. I’m not sure I can make it.]

 
    Kirsten : here’s my number 323-XXX-XXXX
    call me alright? We’ll go to a show or something (:

 
 
    I leave the app open after Kirsten signs off. Before the screen dims to black, I copy her number and paste it into my contacts.
    I slide my phone back into my left pocket and stare into vacant space. Eventually, I walk out of the rest stop without ordering anything. Pushing through the exit doors, I tweet:

 
    “H-e-l-p”

MY MOM AND DAD
     

 
 
    I’ve come to believe I need help. To what extent, I can’t say. But the only people I know I can turn to are my parents. They won’t judge me even if they think I’ve lost my mind .
    Approaching the front door of their house, I circumvent the patch of grass where I last saw the pilot’s dead body. The murder in self-defense – be it actual or imagined or something else entirely – haunts me. I’m having an increasingly difficult time conceiving of anything that doesn’t involve some form of pain or suffering.
    I ring the doorbell.
    No one comes.
    I call my dad on his cell. He doesn’t answer. I leave a message saying I’m outside the house. I call my mom’s phone. But hers is pay-as-you-go, and she rarely uses it. In this case, she must have forgotten to re-up the minutes because I can’t even get through to voice mail.
    I figure I’ll try the door to the garage, which is often left open in the event someone gets locked out of the house. Sure enough, it opens. Unfortunately, the garage is empty – both of my parents’ cars are gone. They probably ran out somewhere. I retrieve the spare house key from underneath an old, extraneous refrigerator that sounds like it’s broken and use it to enter the house.
    Walking into the kitchen, I have never felt more alone. I light up my phone to confirm which day of the week it is… Saturday. Errands day.
    I head upstairs and take a shower.

 
 
    Clean and freshly clothed, but too apprehensive to sit or stand in one place, I wander about the house. Neither of my parents has shown up yet. Neither has called. Entering my old bedroom, I’m surprised to discover it has been completely redecorated. Gone are the Michael Jordan, Jay-Z, Eyes Wide Shut , and Fight Club posters. The walls have been painted burnt orange and brand new, plush grizzly bear brown carpeting is on