I sighed as I lay down, relieved that the day was finally over. I was grateful for the party my parents threw, but it was exhausting. All I could think about as I blew out the candle that read “18” was how I had to move out soon and start doing everything by myself. One of my mom’s gifts to me was signing over my car and the insurance, which didn’t help. I pulled my pillow over my face and groaned. I felt like I had put the final nail in the coffin of my childhood when I blew out those candles.
I blinked myself awake, unsure of when I had finally fallen asleep with how much my mind had been racing. I felt a breeze push my hair and realized I must have forgotten to close my window before I lay down. I sucked in my breath and shot up as I finally took in my surroundings. I was not in my bed anymore. I was no longer surrounded by the familiar posters that I’d awoken to since I was 10. I was between two buildings with tan walls on a narrow alley street.
I began yelling out, hoping someone could tell me where I was and how I could get back home. “Hello?” I called out one last time before sliding down the wall, trying to gather myself. I put my head between my knees in defeat. I sat like that for a little while before I felt someone gently tap my arm. I jerked my head up and looked at the woman in front of me, and hope swelled within me. “Puis-je vous aider?” I felt my heart drop as the woman spoke. I didn’t know what she was saying to me or even what language she was speaking.
I stood up quickly and stared at her, scared, unsure what to do. The woman spoke to me again, “Tous est bien?” Her face seemed to grow in concern as I tried to run away, desperately wanting to find someone who spoke English. I checked my pockets and felt my heart break as I couldn’t find my phone. I must have left it charging the night before. I then finally processed it. I was still in my pajamas. I also just accidentally mindlessly wandered into a crowd of people.
Then it dawned on me. Despite the embarrassment of being surrounded by properly dressed people, someone in that crowd might speak English. I tried time and time again, asking people if they spoke English, and they all got the same confused look and would say something I didn’t understand. My panic grew as I picked through the crowd. “Does anyone here speak English? Anyone at all?” My voice became desperate and loud. I grabbed someone by the shoulders and asked if they knew English. “Qu’est-ce qui se passe?” Their response was loud and laced with concern and agitation, but I didn’t care because I still couldn’t figure out what they were saying.
People started moving around me, holding their purses a little tighter. “I’m not crazy! I’m just lost and want to go home!” I felt tears welling in my eyes as my cheeks burned hot. I knew how it looked, but I couldn’t figure out what to do. I must have seemed to them to be a crazy woman in her pajamas yelling in the streets. I didn’t know how to get them to understand what I was asking, and I couldn’t understand them. I heard people whispering to each other as they passed, looking at me as if I was rabid, “Qu’est-ce qui va avec elle?”
I ran towards an alley that could give me some space from everything. I leaned against the wall and wiped away my tears as they fell. I felt like a little kid again, waiting for my mom to save me. The difference was, I wasn’t a kid, and she wasn’t coming to save me. I was 18 and alone.
I tried to gather myself and figure out where I was. I could see the top of a large building above the labyrinth of homes I had found myself in. I slowly made my way towards it. As I grew closer, I realized it was a black cathedral. On the steps, I saw a girl who looked my age crying, she was almost incomprehensible—almost—I could make out her saying the word home. She spoke English.
“Are you alright?” She looked up at me and began vigorously rubbing her eyes before speaking. “I don’t know French. I just want to go home. There was a woman who offered to teach me, but what good would that do? I’m still stuck here.”
“I would have taken her up on the offer if I were you.” She stared at me like I had hit my head. “I don’t intend to stay here, though. I’m getting out of here the first chance I get!” Watching her, I understood the people who were evading me. Her being so adamant made something click in my mind; I couldn’t turn back time to before I got here, so I was going to have to figure it out. If I wanted to be able to get back to my comfortable life, I was going to have to figure out a way home, and learning what was apparently French was likely my best bet.
“Don’t you want to go home?” She asked me, confused. “Of course I do, but what good is freaking out and giving up going to do. I mean, it sucks that we are so lost, but I think we are going to have to learn how to navigate through it.” I watched her shoulders drop in defeat as she stood from the stairs, brushing dirt off her pants.
She led me to a house that looked identical to its neighbors. She knocked, and a woman answered, saying something in French I didn’t understand before repeating it in English, “Je l’ai su! I said I knew you’d be back, and would you look at that, you’ve brought a friend too.” She opened her door and let us in, a homely place awaiting us. She fed us onion soup for dinner and told us she would try teaching us some basics of French before we settled down for bed.
True to her word, she taught us some greetings and common phrases we would need to try to get around. After a couple of hours, she said we could continue some other time, and we should try to get some sleep. She offered the guest room to the girl from the stairs, whose name I learned to be Abigail. I put up no fight when she apologetically told me I would have to sleep on the couch.
As I lay down, I felt a little more comfortable in my own skin. I didn’t know where I was, where I was going to go, or how I was going to get there, but I knew I would, and that was enough; it had to be.
I opened my eyes the next morning expecting a sore back, but instead was greeted by the grinning face of Taylor Swift. It was one of my posters—I was back in my room. I heard my mom open my door and begin to speak, “Sal, we have to go get those insurance papers finalized.” To my surprise, I didn’t feel a knot form in my chest or bile rise in my throat. I simply hummed an acknowledgement and began to get ready for the day. I couldn’t explain the new feeling that had settled within me, but I knew I would eventually find my way in this terrifying, unknown world of adulthood.
