Until We Meet Again

24. without her

At home, I feel like my high school self again. It's like she never left and never grew into the alarming person I am at college. I think that's better for me right now. Just a small break in a different way.

My mom took the day off work to drive me from the airport and since the moment I stepped into that dark red car, she hasn't stopped asking me questions. I've already keep her fairly updated throughout the semester, but it's different when you're actually face to face with someone. She wants me to repeat all of the big events that took place. I gladly do, even going over every little exam and interaction with another person that I can recall. I tell her everything, except for anything that involves Delilah.

She asks me if I've found a boyfriend, and I tell her no.

She tells me that I'm so pretty and she finds it hard to believe that I haven't gotten one yet. But then, she says after a moment or two to thinking to herself, "you're young. Don't worry about boys."

She still wants me to be that little girl that she held in her arms every night and read childhood stories to. I wish I were still her too. I don't think I ever appreciated being so young and having no responsibilities back then.

As the years passed, I remember being in middle school and just wishing that I could grow up already. I wanted so badly to be in high school, and when I get to high school, I just wanted to be in college. I wanted that fake sense of independence. And now that I'm in college, I don't know what I want next.

I just wish I could go back in time. I could re-do everything and be excited and in peace and live in constant joy.

I also wish I could my 14 year old self to wake up and forget about Delilah. I would tell her she isn't worth it and that she's just like every single one of those spoiled kids living on the wealthy side of town. She isn't any kind of exception to anything.

I continue the conversation with my mom, telling her about some of the friends I've made and showing her pictures of me hanging out with a few of them. I tell her about Nina in particular, my best friend who is probably the nicest person (sometimes) in the world.

She laughs, and says, "I'm happy for you, Priscilla. You're finally making really good friends. I was never a fan of your high school friends. And don't even get me started on Delilah!"

I mean, she's right. I barely talk to my friends from home, for several reasons. I never really connected with most of my friends beyond a basic level. We just didn't have much in common in that private school world.

I think that after Delilah, it became hard for me to ever find a best friend that could take her place. No one could be as funny or as smart or as kind as she was. Obviously, I would tell my 14 year old self that I was incredibly dumb and should have gotten over those feelings as soon as I could have. But it was what it was.

I think that my ex-girlfriend almost came close to taking the prized spots when we were friends before dating, but I'm not sure. We were never truly right for each other, it was a friendship fueled by jealousy on her end and lack of trust on mine. We fought over silly things like words in my journals and her desire to be better than me. I think that friendship died through slow burning as our relationship fell apart. I had a fault in it, we both did. But I think that if you asked her, she would only be able to point out my own flaws.

I lost my best friend and girlfriend with one discussion, and by that point it was already my last year of high school, so I didn't really try again. Strange, it happened again with Delilah. I let go of a best friend and girlfriend in one day. I have a habit of dating people I've known for a long time I guess.

My mom goes on and on in the background about what's been happening at home, but I know it's the same news from always. My parents are always working, so the majority of their tales describe what goes down at the grocery story with angry customers and appearances by close family members. I try my best to pay attention for her and I try my best to ignore this growing headache.

I focus on the scenery around me, white snow and icy roads that must exist in contrast to Delilah's LA location. I push her out of my mind as soon as the second she makes a visit in, but it's hard.

I should focus on the holidays though. Those are always amazing. My family usually alternates between Christmas being held at any of the houses that my uncles or aunts own. This year, it's held at the house of my favorite aunt. She's known for great cooking and giving the best gossip in our family, although I know my mom's food can never be beat. I look forward to seeing my cousins too, I'm not close to any of them in particular but they always make good company with their jokes and comments.

I also enjoy all the gifts, of course.

I haven't bought any presents for my parents yet, which is embarrassing for me. I never fall behind on Christmas shopping, but somehow so many things have changed in the last few months.

I realize that I can just use the money that Delilah very kindly left for me that day she broke up with me to purchase gifts for my loved ones. I tutor here and there at my college for younger kids, but I think I should keep that saved up. I might as well just use her evil money for a noble purpose.

When I finally get home, my dad is waiting on the front lawn of the apartment with a puffy black coat and huge fluffy hat that almost completely covers his eyes. He waves hi to me and carefully speed walks on the icy sidewalk before he gets to me, hugging me tightly like nothing else in the world exists.

My dad is special. I think that I'm lucky that I'm really close to both of my parents. They're supportive and trusting and always there for me.

I should try to be a better daughter. Lie less and never drink again. It would be good for both me and them, well, if they ever found out about it.

My dad helps me take my suitcases inside and up the slippery staircase. The three of us make it inside without any of us falling, and I think I'd call that a significant accomplishment. My things are put onto the ground, leaving a small trail of melted ice and snow behind as they travel with me to my room in an abandoned corner. I laugh when I remember that I would have offered this space to Delilah if I had known that she was leaving.

I might be thankful that I never found out the truth then.

My room is just as I left it. It smells and feels like home. Random stuffed animals are thrown on the pink sheets of my wooden bed, and I pull out Sparkles from my luggage to set it next to the others. I take the moment to just on my bed, which instantly reminds me of just how many noises this bed makes with any movement. I look around this place I used to live in 24/7, and it makes me smile with all of the memories I made.

This old computer is still placed on the desk in my room, one that must surely be from the 90s. It's huge and might not even work anymore, but it's still here. It's the computer I always used when playing random games offline on the days I was bored, which was often.

My closet is small, but it's never failed. Even when I struggle to slide the door shut because of how many clothes I stuff in there, it's still great at its job. Right now, I take the time to unpack some clothes and shove them into my closet. I'll probably regret that since I'll have to put it all back in my luggage soon, but it doesn't bother me too much at the moment.

I notice that familiar small dent on the side of the wall next to me, and I trace over it with my finger and smile at the memory that comes up from that. I was 10 years old and on a mission. I tried to put up this tacky wallpaper on this wall as a statement piece, but I went about it all wrong. I didn't tell my parents about it, and I just went on this path alone. I thought I had to, in a way, sand down the wall like people do to floors sometimes to make a new look, but it went a bit too far on this exact spot.

The good thing is that it was the first place where I started, and the chipping of paint quickly warned me that it wasn't going to work. I gave up right away and didn't even bother with the wallpaper. I didn't bring it up to my parents either.

Now, it's the same light pink walls from my childhood, but I wouldn't change it. Ever.

And some spots on my floor are scratched, but I think it's just a sign that a child once lived here. Now, it's occupied by a growing young adult with other concerns and ideas of what it means to have fun.

These two weeks will be short, but they'll be nice.

My parents clearly want me here based on how happy they are to just see me, and I feel the same way. I've been pushing them away throughout the semester, but it's clear to me now. They need me.

And I need them.