Annabelle's locket

chapter 33

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I could feel the morning sun against my face and opened my eyes. Noah had his arms around me, watching me. I let out a laugh and moaned as he kissed my lips. He rolled on top of me, keeping his weight off of me. I grinned and placed my hands on his neck and said, "So, what are we doing today?" He started to kiss up my neck in response. I was fine with that!

As he started getting faster I laughed and pushed him off. "Really? I need to get out somewhere." I smiled, watching him recover and sitting next to me. "We have to go back to Maine." Noah looked at me with concern. "Its been over six months." Noah said. "Okay." was all I had to say.

"What am I going to say to my dad?"

"Peace corps?" Noah suggested. That actually wasn't a bad idea. It was worth a shot.

"But we don't have to leave yet." Noah grinned his beautiful smile. I agreed. "I am really hungry though." I picked the glades of grass. "I got you something." I could hear his distance voice and looked in that direction. "What do you mean?" he picked up a bag of what looked like Italian food and walked to me, handing me it.

We shared the food as I told him about my past experience in the year. "I'm going to kill them." he growled. I laughed. "I admire your determination, but don't." he nodded and we went for a walk through the woods, coming out on a busy road. We caught a ride from a nice middle aged couple who dropped us off at the airport.

We were now outside my dad's house door. "Are you ready for this?" he asked, looking at the cabin. "As I'll ever be." I opened the door and shut it behind me. I glanced at him and gave him a reassuring smile before he drove off, to see his own family. His explanation would be a lot easier. Mine however, would not.

It felt comforting to be back, as I ascended up the stairs. I stood outside the door and took a deep breath, gathering my courage. I knocked on the door and shoved my hands in my pockets, getting ready.

The door opened. "Annabelle?" I saw my dad's familiar face which now obtained a beard. "Hi dad." I replied and we hugged awkwardly and motioned me to come in. He made me Earl gray tea, my favorite and we sat in the couch. "Where have you been?" he asked about twenty times. My mother would have been crying probably, but my dad was always more laid back.

There was an awkward silence and I looked out the window. The Peace Corps idea was too unrealistic, it was time for improvisation. "I needed some air. A lot of air actually."I said, fiddling with my fingers. "So you leave for a year, only calling a few times? What was is supposed to say to your teachers? To everyone?" I laid back my heads, trying to think of a response. I felt horrible about it. "Dad-I am sorry. I don't know what else there is to say. I feel so bad." I looked at his wear eyes. He looked older, more than a year older. He had heavy bags under his eyes, and more wrinkle marks. "Are you alright?" I asked when he sighed. "Im fine." he assured. The conversation ended with my ascent to my room. I opened the door and stood in the entrance. It was exactly as it was before, except dust had collected on the woods furniture. I let out an abated sigh and closed the door behind me, breaking the utter silence. I walked on my bed and recalled the last time I was here. It had been over a year. My nineteenth birthday was coming soon, in May.

I took a long, hit shower and went downstairs. I heard the microwave going and groaned. "Is this what you've been eating the past year?" I let out an aerial laugh. "I can't cook!" he thee his arms in surrender. The tension from our argument seemed to be gone, and we ate, catching up on everything. I told him I went across the country, which was true, and backpacked. He actually seemed impressed with the places I went and certainly not as mad as I had imagined. The only bad thing now was that I was to have to retake my senior year in September. So much for going to college at nineteen.

It was getting late and dad fell asleep on the couch, watching tennis. I snuck out. My shoes splashed in the puddles, and I shoved my cold fingers in the pockets if my jeans. I walked along the road, breathing in the clean Fishead's air. It was good to be back. That was something I never thought I'd say.