Chapter 37

It would've been really nice to say that ever since I got back yesterday, things have been smooth.

Well, nothing extreme happened, but that's kinda my problem. Nothing happened. It finally dawned on me that I've done this crazy thing, and the outcome was nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. My balance is now showing $32,000 less, as to show how much of a nothing this whole thing means.

And I left her a present. It's a Rosewood snow globe. She's gonna know it's from me. She can't ignore me forever, she can't run away from me forever. Even though 3 years are a forever that lasts 1095 days (and counting), things are bound to shift, one way, or another.

I'm just sick of waiting. I'm not the type who sits around and does nothing, so I did anything but, this past week. Sadly, some things are just out of my control.

When you build up to seeing the other half of your soul, after almost three and a half years, expect to maybe spend their birthday and Christmas day with them, it kinda sucks when you don't. And that's an understatement.

So I guess I'm mad. At myself, at the world, at Paige. For being such a stupid girl and not answering my text. A "thank you," I could've worked with, I could've said "we're getting somewhere." But a nothing? What can I do with a nothing? I'll tell you what I can do, a big nothing. Or Nada. If you feel like the word nothing has been said too many times.

I came back yesterday. My mom picked me up, and I just didn't let go from her embrace. Quite selfish, considering I didn't say a word to her about my trip. I was basically using her to get some motherly love. Like when you're sick while far from home. All you want is your mom to come and make you soup. It happens to me every now and then since I moved to LA. So in the current situation, I was playing the role of myself, my mom was playing the role of *her*self, and in the role of my soup, was the embrace.

I just wanted to be home. Considering no big tragedy happened, I felt guilty for feeling so sorry for myself. But I couldn't help it. I needed comfort. I wanted the warm and familiar thing that was Paige, but I couldn't have that. Instead, I had to find an alternative warm and familiar thing. Home. My room. My bed. Being in Rosewood. It always makes things a bit better.

I let my mom lead me in, I took a shower. I had flight smell. You never wanna have flight smell. So after I changed, brushed my teeth and had tea, I let my mom take me to the couch, and put my head in her lap as we were watching a film.

Dad was out getting some of my favorite foods. Mom said they weren't sure until the very last moment if I'd actually been on the plane. I guess they figured I'd change my mind mid way, sky dive my way into the ocean and grab a fisherman's boat to head back to shore. That made more sense to them than me actually… giving up.

I didn't "just" give up. But I don't expect them to understand, mostly because I hardly said a word about the trip since I got to Paris. But when I finally texted them that I landed, my mom frantically sent my dad out to get stuff for me as she headed to pick me up.

Parents. They always think it's things like treats and objects that make home… well, home. They don't get that it already *is* home. Just by being there whenever you get back from being far. The familiarity, the memories, the presence of loved ones. I didn't need food. I wanted my dad home. But then I was like, "if he's already out, might as well tell him to also get some pancake mix. Just in case."

"It's already on the list, honey."

"Awww… you guys know me so well. Tell me more about what's on that list."

"Gummy bears."

"Mmmm…"

"Pop Tarts."

"Yeah… wait, which flavor?"

"Both Chocolate Fudge *and* Cinnamon…"

"Tell me more…" This is like food porn.

"Strawberry cupcakes. Hmm… Coconut too…"

"What!"

"Em, you're not the only one in this house. I don't mind coconut myself. Plus, you never know when we might have guests. A good host is always prepared."

"Fiiiiiine. Go on. Please."

She kept going through the list of just a few of my favorite things. All the things I can't eat back in LA because of work, but I'm home for the holidays now. And mom also promised to cook. She was talking and I eventually drifted to sleep.

I woke up in my bed this morning. I'm sure daddy came home and they both carried me up the stairs. Crazy parents. I love them. But that didn't mean I felt a need to get out of bed as I remembered why I was so emotionally drained the night before.

My phone was lying next to me. I picked it up. 1 text message. Paige?

I leaned on my elbows and checked the message quickly. It was only Aria. Pffft. This was the kind of anticipation that 5'2'' just couldn't fill!

She texted me last night after I already fell asleep and wanted to hang out, but… I was asleep. And I think it was good I had some family time with my mom.

I texted Aria back, apologizing for the night before and we scheduled to right about…now.

It took me a few more hours to drag myself out of bed, but I'm downstairs with Aria, and my mom, who, as she promised, cooking for me.

Spence said she won't be in town until closer to Christmas. God knows what she's doing. You can never know with her. Hanna is only coming in tomorrow. But, I lied. I love these 5'2'' with all my heart, and even though I'm cranky, I'm really glad that she's here.

It's not like I mind talking about what happened. I just know that when Han and Spencer are back, I'll have to tell the story all over again, and I get exhausted just thinking about it.

"If I tell you, and I'm sure my mom wants to hear every detail too…."

"I do."

"Figured, Mom. Anyways, if I tell you, can I count on you to fill Hannah and Spencer in?"

"Come on, Em. If there's something we're good at, it's *that*. You don't really think Spencer didn't fill me in on all the details, right?"

My mom turns to us and says, "and Aria already filled *me* in on everything."

My life is an open book. Well, not entirely. But really, I can't help but smile at how close our families are. When Aria got here I wasn't even downstairs yet. She just spent half an hour talking to my mom over tea, and now I know what about.

"This is like a very weird support group," I say.

"Well, Em, you do realize that no matter how elaborated my storytelling skills are - and, they are, hello, almost an English professor - these girls will drill you for more details."

"I know, I know."

They just stare at me, patiently, and don't push.

I know I need to talk at one point or another, so might as well start now.

And so I spill. *All* the details. Not gonna stop until I'm done. If you can't beat them, exhaust them.