Taking the Long Way Home

Safe and sound at my mom and dad's

After grocery shopping I took the long way home. When I pulled out of the grocery store parking lot, I looked in my rearview mirror and noticed the car behind me. Driving down the main road a couple miles I notice the same car behind me, and I become highly suspicious. At this time, I think of the older man smiling at the kids while we walked out of the store. He looked so much like a serial killer from the movies; wearing Donahue glasses, trucker hat and a puffy vest over a dirty grey sweatshirt and jeans.

My initial thought is that the person driving the car is that smiling serial killer and he is following us so he can kill me and steal my kids. The best way to prevent this (without medication) is to not drive home, but past it; turn on the next street and back track, so long as the car does not turn on the same street as me, otherwise, I have to keep going, hoping to get home without feeling suspicious of another car. This happens more often then I’d like.

I am home alone, at the moment. It is always ok, until the sun goes down. I set the home alarm and I shut all the curtains. I sit in bed and read my book and listen to my house creak and the wind blow against the windows. My heart begins to beat faster, I get hot, but after kicking the blanket off my body, I feel exposed, and need to put the blanket back over me, covering up more, up to my neck.

Now I am not worried about that serial killer, but a home invader. I read an article about crack heads breaking into a house and torturing the family and then killing them all except just one. I start to sweat and throw the blanket off again. Is that someone at the window? I get up and turn the light on even though the bedside lamp is on. Then I get in bed, and put the blanket back on.

After a while of sheep counting, book reading and chanting, I dozed off, only to wake up to a loud creak. I check my phone and it is 2am. I must have fallen asleep around 1am. I know its windy outside, but can’t help but panic by the loud noises coming from the walls and windows. I have my escape plan devised; I’d grab the baby, then pull Kiki from bed and we run across the street to the neighbors. They seem harmless. I do find it weird that they drink beer and smoke cigarettes in the driveway all day long. But when my mom watched the kids and I was out of town, she thought the house caught on fire, and called the fire department. One of the beer drinking smoking neighbors came over with a fire extinguisher, walking through the house to see where the smoke source was coming from. This act of neighborly kindness has led me to forgive them for their dog frequently pooping in my front yard, and, I guess, make me think their home is a safe house in case of emergency.

As the sun comes up, I can fall asleep. I feel safe. Not long after I fall asleep, the baby is up, so I am up too. I start to pack our bags to go to Tahoe and stay with my parents. I don’t know if I will make it through another day of running errands. I might end up like Ray Liotta at the end of GoodFellas. With sweat beating on my forehead, looking at the helicopters over my head, worried they are packed with terrorists coming to drop a bomb on me. Or a quick mall trip entirely filled with panic that someone is going to come in, guns blazing, and another mass killing will be in the news. I might make it through the day, but certainly won’t make it through the night. I’d probably have a heart attack after hearing a branch fall from the tree and graze my window.

With my parents and sister’s family, we had a great time out at pizza. We would have gone to see the new Hard Rock Café that opened if my daughter wasn’t acting like such a little booger. She was worrying about coyotes. Over the summer I took her out to look at the stars and the coyotes were howling so loudly she nearly had an anxiety attack. I reassured her not to worry because my parents’ crazy ass dog wont let a coyote within a sniffing distance of the house, as well as, we are in a house and the coyote is out there, unable to get in unless he grows hands. She is so obsessed with these howling animals; it is the main subject she discusses when we come up to the mountains. Where do they live? What color are they? What do they eat?
I think of Grandma J and her “no soliciting” sign and strict never-leaving-after-dark policy. My mom told me she sleeps with a seven-inch flat head Phillips screwdriver under her pillow when my dad is out of town. I told her, “ I could never do something like that because I’d be worried of doing some crazy sleepwalking horror scene!” She said it was worth the risk.

We are all a bunch of scaredy cats, but luckily we know, we are just a short drive away from each other; a shorter drive than the mental institution, another place we might feel at home.