A/N: I updated. It's late, but I updated... and that's good, right? And you should check out my collab with TotallyNotFamousGal1920118LO VE called 'Time Travel, Quargles, Blown Up Microwaves.' It's far better than the summary sounds. Oh, and to be the desperate authoress that I am, review!
Disclaimer: No. Just no.
When I awoke Wednesday morning to my five o'clock alarm, the only thought in my mind was freedom. Today was the day I would escape to New York City. This, of course, was also hidden by a sadly-necessary piece of subterfuge. I lied to my family and told them today was the day I'd be setting up an apartment in St. Mist and that I wasn't going to install a phone line for financial reasons. They had to fall for it hook, line and sinker- apparently working as a typist for four years without buying very much leads to an empty pocketbook. Though I couldn't see the logic in that, I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I had to make my plane flight from the Minneapolis/St. Paul terminal at eight, so I had no time to waste. Slamming down on my borrowed alarm clock to turn it off, I rolled off of the couch I had been sleeping on for the past week and went straight into the bathroom to take a shower while there was actually hot water in the tank.
Half an hour later, I stepped out of the bathroom to see my mother standing in front of the stovetop cooking enough food to sustain the American forces in Vietnam for the rest of the year. Her dark brown hair was done up in four inch curlers around her head and she was wearing a powdery pink terrycloth bathrobe over her floor-length nightgown. My mother had some awfully interesting ideas about what was appropriate. She'd have a heart attack if I so much as said the word 'pants' to her and wore nightclothes more suited for the Victorian era than 1971 but gave free, off-color advice to any female in my family that would listen about how to get the man they wanted. I didn't understand her double standard, but there was just no way I'd question her. It wasn't worth it.
"Abbey!" she gasped. "I can't believe you're leaving home today! And Esther going next week… my baby girls, all grown up." She started to sniffle dramatically, before pulling me into an outrageously tight embrace that lasted for far too long. Mother was overbearing and overprotective sometimes, and was deathly afraid of something happening to one of us when we left home. She almost refused to let us go to college due to her worry.
After nearly strangling me, my mother grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the kitchen table, shoving me down in front of a plate covered with piles and piles of food. She then woke up the other seven residents of the Laine household and got them to the table to eat one final meal as a family. My leg jiggled irritatedly as I tried to wait with some modicum of patience. I was going to miss my all-important flight at this rate, and then I'd be in big trouble. How would I get to New York City? All of my things except for what could fit into a single suitcase were waiting for me there, including my old, beaten-up car. They had been shipped off a week ago.
Finally, after what felt like hours, every member of my family was seated at the table. My brothers started shoveling food into their mouths with reckless abandon as soon as their backsides touched their chairs, so I considered myself safe to begin to eat in a more sedate manner. I ignored the conversations all around me, eyes glued to the clock. My ride to the airport, a friend named Mary, was due to pick me up in less than ten minutes.
"I'm going to leave in ten minutes," I announced to the gathered Laines sitting at the table. The reaction was immediate. My four brothers and younger sister tackled me, somehow managing to weave their limbs into an unbreakable barrier. My mother burst into tears and was duly comforted by my father, who looked proud of me. Esther just continued eating like nothing was going on.
A knock on the door cued my exit. I gave my younger siblings and parents plenty of hugs and kisses and promised to send letters galore. Dad told me about a thousand times that he was proud of me and knew I'd succeed at any classes I took. My mom bawled into my shoulder for a moment before she was pulled away by a scowling Esther, who neglected to say good-bye at all. Grabbing my old black suitcase and carry-on bag, I somehow made it into Mary's car without being dragged back by my family.
"So you finally escaped the loony bin?" she asked me with a faint, cynical smile. I had no idea how someone with Mary's luck was such a pessimist and how the two of us didn't depress each other, but we had been close friends since junior high school.
"Yeah," I replied softly, staring at the dark road through the window. Neither she nor I felt the need to talk after that, so I drifted in and out of a doze as she brought me from Dylan to the airport in Minneapolis. Finally, she stopped in front of the terminal.
"Last chance," Mary told me. "If you want to turn back, just tell me."
I took a deep, fortifying breath. "No, I'm going to do this," I said, more for my benefit than hers. The feeling of butterflies in my stomach went crazy, but I stepped out of her car and grabbed my luggage, determined not to second-guess myself. "Bye, then," I mumbled nervously.
"Bye," she replied, closing the door and driving away, probably trying to keep me from seeing her crying. She was just weird like that sometimes, I thought as I checked in to my Minneapolis- New York City flight and hurried onto the plane. Mary acted like she never got sad or upset, but I knew the truth. And, as the plane took off, I knew the truth about myself, too: I was doing the right thing for myself by leaving.
If only my heart and my mind would agree on that.