Five Years Without You (HIATUS)

Chapter Ten

~Raelyn~

Marissa is coming back to California today. I don't want to admit that it's all I've been thinking about all morning, but I suppose it's true.

6:00 PM. That's when her flight lands.

All day, I've been writing poetry, as usual. The poem I'm working on right now is what I like to call "depression in writing form".

Autumn walks into my room just then, walking up to me and looking at what I'm working on in my notebook.

"Hey!" I exclaim, snatching the notebook back.

"Sorry, that was wrong of me," she says, then adds, "you write about some deep shit, Rae. What happened to little girl Raelyn?"

"She grew up, Autumn," I reply.

"Raelyn, why don't you get out of the house? You're sixteen, go enjoy life while you're young."

"But I don't enjoy life."

"Raelyn..."

"I don't care, Autumn," I say, then decide to change the subject. "May I go see Marissa at the airport?"

"The neighbour?" she asks, and I nod.

Autumn laughs, which I was not expecting.

"What?" I ask, slightly annoyed.

Autumn smiles knowingly at me. "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

"What the fuck, Autumn? I'm not in love with her."

Autumn ignores me. "I'm sure you remember when I was dating Mattias. I loved that boy with all of me, and he broke my heart."

"This isn't the same, though. I'm not in love with her, and she's not in love with me. We're friends." I say. "Also, she's a girl. I find boys an offence to this planet earth."

Autumn smiles again. "You are so... adamant," she says. "It's fine. You can see Marissa at the airport."

"By myself?" I ask?

"By yourself," Autumn confirms.

-

I finish my poem that day. I feel people underestimate the amount of time it takes to write poetry, as it's not long, like a novel would be. However, it takes time to make up rhyming schemes and string words together so they sound pretty.

"Raelyn?" Autumn calls. "Raelyn?" she asks again, peeking her head into my room.

"I'm right here," I say.

Autumn lets out a sigh of relief. "I didn't know where the hell you were!"

"Well, I didn't go anywhere," I say dully.

"If you want to be at the airport by 6, you better get going soon," she says, then leaves my room.

I close my notebook and place it beside my other poetry books and classic novels. It feels kind of wrong to put a book filled with a sixteen-year-old nobody girl's poetry beside books by literary icons such as Jane Austen and Sylvia Plath. Maybe if I was one of the authors I have on my bookshelf, I would be offended to be on the same level of bookshelf as some random teenager.

I haven't changed since I'm depressed and didn't have the energy, but I do now, for Marissa. I wear an oversized brown-grey sweater and black jeans, my hair in a french braid.

-

While I'm driving to the airport, I realize this is the first time I've driven a car entirely by myself since the accident. I suppose I got over that fear rather quickly. I don't think I'll be talking on the phone while driving for a long while, though.