The American Dream

The day started with the collapse of my make-shift fort.  It wasn’t really a fort though, just an arrangement of my pillows in such a way that I could get some sleep after eight hours of being holed up at the airport. I noticed a dim light filtering in through the lopsided blinds, and then one of my new roommates, who on the Craigslist ad said his name was Kevin - no last name - shoved aside the flimsy floral curtain that sectioned up the living room.  Three-quarters was designated as practice space for “jam sessions with the guys,” a surprisingly popular Christian rock band, and the other quarter was all mine.

“Kevin,” I warned, clutching the blankets closer to me. “What did we say about boundaries?”  He looked sheepish, but didn’t leave just yet.  

“Sorry, I zoned out while Scott was giving the new roommate talk. I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“It’s okay,” I said, blinking the sleep out of my eyes  “Where is everyone?”

“Well, Scott’s at the Afghan place getting take-out and Jasper, well, I’m pretty sure he’s just roaming.  You slept the whole day, by the way.  Must have been a long journey.”

“You could say that.”  I sat up and threw on a gray fleece jacket.  It felt as though the cold was seeping in through the walls, into my skin.  Inescapable.

“I’m just passing by,” I explained, “The Meridian is the second-to-last leg of the road.”

“So you’re a vagabond, like Jasper?” I grimaced at the term.

“Not exactly,” I said.  I wanted to close the curtain and be consumed by peaceful sleep while the rain thrummed rhythmically on the glass, but I could tell he was waiting for me to elaborate.

“It’s kind of a long story, actually,” I started, “I’m going to find my real family.”

I hated that whenever I said that it sounded like a one-liner on a soap-opera before it cut to the commercials.  Or a reality-tv show…

“So your parents just told you you were adopted, yeah?”  That probably had sounded better in his head.  

“I knew the Polaskis were my foster parents.  I just never had bothered to ask who they got me from.”  I didn't intend it to come out as biting as it sounded.

Suddenly, a wave of images flooded my mind.  Tan, glowy skin airbrushed to perfection, sleek, coal-black hair, impeccably manicured brows, and curves that had been plastered on the cover of every magazine.  

A jarring bang cut through the momentary silence. There was a crackle of electricity, a flicker of lights, and we were plunged into darkness.