Wildflowers

Chapter 31- We move in, we move on

Alexandra, August 26th

With the suitcase by my side, backbag on, and all my belongings packed, I choose the next song to listen to as I click on the screen of my phone.

I look up and see Myles with his own shit packed, approaching the bus station where I'm standing at. We'll be saying our goodbyes, he'll take a bus back home, and I'll be taking another bus to the train station in Ashford City. 

Wordlessly, he wraps his arms around me when he lets go of his suitcase. I sigh into his hold, resting my head on his chest.

"Alex."

I look up at him and grabbing his jaw, I kiss him. Just to distract him, and distract me from the aspect of us leaving.

"Your bus is here," I say, seeing it turn the corner.

He sighs, "Call me when you get home. Call me whenever you need, really." Myles pecks my forehead.

Smiling, I take his hand and hold it in mine, rubbing my thumb over his soft skin until his bus arrives completely, and the doors open.

I take hold of the back of his neck and smack a kiss on him before he steps away and gets onto the bus.

It takes approximately four minutes for my bus to get here. It's almost empty and I thank every God ever, thank you for that blessing.

An hour later my train is departing, and another two later I'm stepping into my bedroom. I let my bag fall to the ground and dive into my bed. Myla came back home a week ago, not with me, now she's sitting on her bed headphones on, ignoring me.

I head to the bathroom, rip off my clothes, and take a hot and cold shower. 

I'm munching on Caesar salad I let myself spend money on, as me, my siblings, and our mother sit around an oval-shaped faded turquoise-colored kitchen table, eating.

My mother speaks up. "Are you sure about all of this?"

I spoke to my mother weeks ago about my decision to move to Maryland. She was fine with it. She's always responding indifferently, letting me do what I want and be my own person, decide what I do, and all that.

But I know she cares, at least a little, she lets it slip with random questions and concerned gazes. Partly it's a mother instinct, partly because, after my depressive summers at 14 and 15, as I call them, she's cautious about if I'm going to do something self-destructing. 

"Yes," I sip my Red Bull. What a meal.

I continue. "Everything is settled with that school. I have a room waiting for me. I'm starting a job in October to pay my part of the bills and shit"

"Okay..." she trails off, seeming as if this is all new information to her, it isn't. I don't know why she's like that.

I catch my sister's eye from the opposite side of the table. She doesn't like me leaving, she's mad and hurt.

I snap my gaze away, I have to leave as much as I feel like I must stay, for me and for them. It hurts me as much as it hurts my siblings, maybe more.

Firstly, overall, the older sibling leaves- the emptiness and weird feeling it leaves. Secondly, I get away, they don't, they will have to endure more of our father and his anger. I get anxious just thinking about it.

"Call me anytime," I smile at them all.

Mother smiles, "Yes, we will." 

"You too," I look at Myla.