Departure
"The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways--I to die and you to live. Which is the better, only God knows."
-Socrates
The loud thud of a suitcase reminded me it was almost time to leave. I released my mom from the hug, as my dad went back into the house for another bag.
"You sure you don't want to stay?" my mom asked teary-eyed, propped up against the open door.
Her thick white bathrobe hit against her ankles, as the strong winter winds whipped around us. My dad soon came back through the door with a packed box in hand.
"This going to?"
"In the passenger side; yes mom, I'm positive." I turned away from the car and back to my mother's worried expression. "Mom I'm a senior, give me some credit. I'll be fine."
The car door slammed and dad appeared by my side. He embraced me in a tight hug. I was going to miss them, but I needed to get away. This long vacation was a necessity.
"There's a map in the glove compartment with stops and back routes, just in case." He released me and went to my mother's side.
"And there's an extra twenty beneath the steering wheel cover," she shivered in the breeze. "If you need the cash."
"Thanks mom." I sighed, giving one more round of hugs.
I rubbed my hands together, as I ran to the car.
"Bye," I waved with one hand on the open car door.
In my mind, I already had a simple schedule laid out. Without glancing at the brown cardboard box next to me, I started the engine and pulled out of my driveway. I'd already said my goodbyes to the boys yesterday. They'd thrown me a going away party at the grill, which came with a CD entitled 'Break-up'. I wasn't entirely ready to listen to it just yet, so I put it in the case above me til I could build up the courage to hear my reality.
The path on which I drove, was a familiar one filled with memories…but then again what didn't hold memories nowadays? I grimaced as the ache in my gut made itself known. A tear started to form, but I hastily wiped it away. No use crying, what good would that do? I took a deep breath and composed myself. Strength was necessary at this point, no turning back, no bailouts from mom, it was all me. I began to get anxious about the idea, and started tapping on the steering wheel as if it would help me get to my destination quicker.
It wasn't long before I turned down a road that I'd had memorized in my heart. I turned into the fourth house on the right. It was white, newly painted, with dark green shutters, three stories of house. The biggest house I'd ever been in. The driveway was empty, and the house appeared lifeless. I already knew where everyone was, I'd expected the stillness, but somehow it still managed to catch me off guard.
I left the car running, and stepped out into the breeze, shivering beneath my blue jean jacket. I didn't bother to button it up. I figured it was just a waste of time and energy, seeing as it would be easier to withstand the chill for a few moments. With the cardboard box in hand, I approached the porch. It began to be difficult to put the simple little box of memories on the doorstep, but as soon as it touched the welcome mat, I turned and ran without a second glance over my shoulder. With a thump, I slammed the car door shut behind me and backed out of the drive, as fast as I could without taking out the mailbox. Tears welled up in my eyes, as I pulled out onto the road and set my sights on the stretch of pavement ahead.
"Don't look back," I told myself, wiping the tears away, not daring to let them fall. "It's bad luck."
That had been my Grandma's advice she'd given me the evening before she died. I was nine then, but it was just as true then, as it was now. I was almost off his road, when her words replayed in my mind, yet I still found my eyes lingering towards the image in my rearview mirror. With a deep breath, I turned off his street for the last time. Though I had stocked up on many CD's before leaving, I kept the car silent, as I drove down a busy road and up the ramp to the highway. The purr of the engine and the sound of the tires gliding over the pavement, cooed me back to my calmer state of mind. The sound reminded me constantly about the miles between my past and present. It disappeared along with the cloud of exhaust trailing behind my car.
***
It was Christmas Eve and snow was the last thing that we were expecting. We were at Garret's for their annual Christmas Eve bash, and when I say 'bash' I do mean a bash. Surround sound –blasting Christmas music throughout the rooms- was in every room except for the kitchen, which was packed with distinguished waiters, trays filled with exquisite food. Everyone was dressed nicely for the occasion; I myself wore a small black dress just for the event. It had two normal straps, as wide as one finger, a corset –perfectly formfitting-, which sparkled slightly with every movement and turn. From the corset, the skirt of the dress broadened out, faintly cascading down toward my knees –the dresses full length-. It was a fairy type dress, something small, simple, and pixie-like, yet magnificent even on a hanger. I wore with it only a simple necklace, charm bracelet, and black ballet-toed shoes, making me seem much shorter than I already was.
Around me, numerous adults and other teens, who I vaguely knew, were in separate clusters, chattering away. I walked loyally by Garret, meeting various important peoples, unable to remember names to go with the many faces. We ended up staying with one particular group made up of five other people besides us: Stephen, Chase, Austin –all soccer friends-, Leah, and Macy. Oh joy.
During the entire conversation, I stayed deathly silent except for an occasional "Mhmm". Throughout the night, I learned something unique about each person. Stephen had the highest scoring streak on the team, and was going to college on a full scholarship; Chase was musical and could play over five different instruments; Austin was a wiz at math; Leah played four different sports including lacrosse; Macy, well, never mind about Macy. Besides Macy, the evening went perfectly, dream-like.
When eleven-thirty rolled around, they began their tradition of the mistletoe. Before midnight, every couple in the house had a single kiss before Christmas, as usual, Mr. and Mrs. Atkinson started off, while other adults followed after. After the adults, some started nudging the young teenage couples toward the archway; it wasn't long before Garret and I were being pressed for a kiss. With a smile, he took me by the hand and led me beneath the mistletoe. I was nervous, shaking like a rattlesnake. He could sense my worry and gently squeezed my hand. We'd never really kissed before, on the cheek yes, but that was as far as we'd gone in the one year we had been dating; definitely not in the public eye.
It got silent as we faced one another, the light color of his hazel eyes read sincerity as he looked down at me, smiling. I grew weak, legs turning into Jell-O when he leaned in towards me, gently raising one hand to the back of my neck –where head and neck met-. I shut my eyes, and lost my sanity. As the clock chimed midnight, people whistled and clapped as we kissed, and soon we both pulled away grinning. Garret looked over at me and gave a slight chuckle, then placed his hand on the small of my back, guiding me back towards the crowd of cheering faces.
I looked over at him as he watched the crowd, eyes stuck on one face; everything to me was perfect: the boy, the kiss, the relationship, this life. It was a fairytale, faultless, but if I'd been looking at that situation from a different point of view, maybe then I would've noticed the key points and slight signs as to my fairytale's ending. Yet, I was naïve, unwilling to see what was staring me right in the face, ignoring the evidence completely. Now looking back, I saw it all: the hints, clues, and signs; every little detail of imperfection I'd once dismissed. And that was my downfall.
***
With the long stretch of road in front of me, I put the car in cruise and settled in for a long drive. Only occasionally, did I stop for gas and food; the money I'd taken out of my bank account in advance was still in vast supply, so I hadn't needed to use the extra money yet. I didn't think of anything as I drove, besides the sights of trees and asphalt passing in front of me, nothing really registered that I was indeed free.
My peacefulness was soon disrupted by an annoying, beep beep. I let the noise pass by me uncaring the first few times, but after about ten minutes of enough beeping to censor an 'R' rated movie, it began to bug me. It wasn't long before I began to search for the noise, with one eye on the road and the other looking to see if it was in a bag. Sure enough, I found the source of my annoyance.
Thirteen missed calls.
I flipped open the cell and looked at my recent calls. I didn't bother calling anyone back just yet; they'd all be busy, unable to answer their phones, so I just turned off my phone and tossed it in the backseat. I'd call the boys when I arrived in Kentucky, but until then the phone stayed where I'd left it, behind me.
Miles turned to hours passed, and hours turned to everlasting moments. With each passing minute on the clock, it became easier, until it took no effort at all. The sun was just beginning to fade as I crossed the Kentucky line. Granted, it would've taken me longer without the GPS. The roads weren't crowded, and the only company I had was that of the eighteen-wheeler's passing through. It was breathtakingly beautiful. There was no flat land visible anywhere; snow covered hills of mountainous size towered around me. Fields ran alongside the freeway, cows and horses grazing before the setting sun.
I turned down a long winding road, as directed by my GPS. The vacant road soon came to a steep hill.
"You have reached your destination." I was informed.
Gazing down the hill, I could see a small, lit farmhouse to my left, surrounded by empty fields –a barn lying in one in the fields-. It was my only beacon in the darkness, and the only house on the street, so with a deep breath –and one foot on the brake- I descended towards the house, and my future.
