Running had never been something Clementine Jones had particularly enjoyed, but she never expected to flee halfway around the world to escape her past. But sometimes when your demons refuse to back down, it's all you can do. Isolated, Clementine tries to lead a quiet life, waking from her nightmares and trying to live a normal, half-hearted life. And then she meets Niall Horan - popstar, internationally famous, just-released-a-new-song Niall Horan. And all her secrets, all her guilt, is blown wide open.
May, 2016.
Anxiety had my fingers bouncing; off of my thigh, off of my other hand, off of the purple rolling suitcase situated next to me. In front of me, the security line waited with the promise of a new life, a new start. At the same time, my head felt thick, and full: everything comprehended a second too slow. I reacted to sounds a second too late. I felt dizzy, even standing still. My eyes were already watering. Maybe that was why everything looked so blurry.
Behind me stood the last remnants of a terrible, life-altering three months. Behind me stood the other baggage threatening to bring me down.
Jamie took a step closer, standing close enough to brush her arm against my own. "The kids made you a goodbye card," she said softly, and passed a construction-paper mess of drawings, words, and glitter into my hand.
Behind her, my mom cleared her throat. "Those poor kids. Clementine, they'll miss you so much. You don't have to go." Jamie frowned, the worry lines on her face tightening. She and my mom seemed to have been avoiding each other, distant when they used to be so close. It was easy to know why: Jamie supported me leaving, and Mom was fighting like hell to keep me here.
The card in my hand was like a weight, pulling me back to my life here. I opened it, and a puff of purple glitter floated down onto the white-tiled floor.
"Love you Clem! Have a nice vacation!" the card read in messy handwriting, and I winced. They were a bit too young to really understand that this move would be permanent, that I wasn't coming back. It would crush them when they finally realized it.
I choked back a sob. "I can't stay here. You know that," I whispered softly to Jamie, glancing up at her as her face blurred. Mom huffed behind me, and took a few steps forward and grabbed my wrist, her fingers closing around it like handcuffs, chaining me to her.
"You can stay here, Clementine. You're wasting all of your time, going off like this. You're wasting your scholarship money, my money, and your degree."
"The degree I barely got." I managed to whisper, and under normal circumstances, this would have riled my mom up further, but she softened. Norma Jones, whatever else you could say about her, understood grief. She understood it, was burdened by it much like I was, but she was like a rock anchored in a stormy sea, while I drowned next to her.
She patted my arm, the touch firm, controlling. Like she owned me. "You still got it. You still can go out into the world and make something of yourself."
But Mom didn't get it. Maybe the person she had been when her husband, my father, died, but she had grown and changed because of that, and I was buried six feet underground next to Jack.
Jack.
The name clanged around inside of my head. I rolled my shoulders back, straightened my spine.
Jack.
"I can't stay here. Not when I see Jack everywhere I go, not when I wake up and remember everything about him and wonder why I did what I did, said what I said. I am drowning here; I may as well tie a cinder block to my ankle and leap into the Manatee River, because I will die if I stay here."
I was panting, shocked by my own admission, but I knew deep down that it was true. "I'm barely sober, Mom. I tried to drink myself to death. You know it. I can't be here anymore."
My mom's hazel eyes hardened and stepped back from me, her calloused hand slipping from my arm. She straightened, her posture matching mine, and looked me dead in the eye. "Then you are no daughter of mine. No daughter of mine would be such a waste. My daughter died alongside her best friend, on a lonely road by the river."
The words crystallized and broke inside me as my mom, the woman who had always supported my dreams, who had been there for every milestone, every achievement, walked away from me.
But she was right. That daughter had died next to Jack, was buried next to him. Maybe it was easier this way.
She couldn't mourn the fact that I was leaving when I was dead to her.
That goodbye was brutal and painful, but there was only one person left to say goodbye to now. I've already said goodbye to my house, where I've lived all my life; Bradenton, my hometown; Florida in general, and the humidity in particular.
I turned to Jamie who, judging by the flare of her nostrils and the wide set to her eyes, was livid. Before she could say anything about me or Mom, I wrapped my arms around her and hugged tight. "Bye," I whispered, settling into her quiet warmth and strength. "Thank you for helping me go."
I felt the brush of her lips against my forehead, a caring mother always, and then I pulled away. "Thank you. Goodbye."
I waved and walked away from my cousin, trying to ignore the burn in my eyes as I entered the security line. It was better this way. They would suffer less without watching me drown in myself.
Guilt is a funny thing. There are days where I'm strong and clear-headed and I know it wasn't entirely my fault that Jack died. And other days I couldn't leave the house, so encumbered as I was with the knowledge that his death was my fault. Some days I soared, and other days, most days, I sunk.
Security passed by in a blur. My body was on autopilot, but my mind was weighted down. I couldn't focus on anything, faces and bodies sliding across my line of sight. No one stuck out.
It seemed like only seconds after saying goodbye to Jamie that I was sitting on my seat on the plane, A14, with no recollection of how I had gotten there. The boarding pass in my hand was crumpled a little, worn from my handling.
I turned to the window, and let my head rest against the seat as I stared out of it, at the gray morning light streaming down from the sky. A storm was rolling in.
I was going.
My eyes closed, and a few tears slipped out, burning down my cheeks.
This was it. There was no turning back now.