Hate Is A Strong Word

47.

It's nice to think about what's going to happen when we're big. We'll buy lots of candy, all the toys, go to bed at 10:00 at night and drive a big pink car. Being a kid again. Not knowing that the world is the most fucked up place that can exist. Living in the belief that there's only good things in your future. Not caring about anything or anyone, as long as grandma gives me a green or yellow lollipop.

But the older I get, the more it's not what I imagined. If little Justine saw me now, she'd be asking a lot of questions. How's Mommy? Mommy's doing great. How's Simon? He's great too, he's got a nice girlfriend and he's going to be a dad. You'll be an aunt. And Dad? He's better than ever. So, do we have another sibling? She's a girl, right? We do, and no, it's not, you have another hockey-obsessed brother.

What about Victor and Ema? Still best friends, you'll never get rid of those two. Are we skating? Not competitively anymore, only when we want to, but we still love it. How's Samo? Samo's doing great, he's gonna play in that famous league, just like your brother. And we finally have a full library? We can't even fit any more books in there. Did we write a book? We did, a lot.

What about Sebastian? We still hate him so much, don't we? Would you like to break all his hockey sticks? You know, he's become the person who's always there for you. He'll come to you when you're at your worst. He'll hug you when you need it most. Wipe your tears when you cry and tell you how beautiful you are. He's the one you fall head over heels in love with. We love him.

We love him.

That's how I imagine having a conversation with my little self. Justine, who had no idea what she'd experience and the people she'd meet. I have an amazing life, some things just might not happen, but that's out of my control. Thinking about Sebastian and everything we've been through together is terribly sad, but beautiful at the same time. How we were able to get from the arguments to the something that we have between us. Love is blind.

Maybe she'd ask one more question. Why are you crying? Because someone you love is flying away today and you don't know when you'll see them. If you ever will.

"Tiny." He runs his hand over my back and I sob even louder. "It's not the end of the world." I bury my head in his chest and continue to cry. It's night, about three in the morning. He's leaving at a quarter to three in the afternoon, and he'll have to be at the airport by ten because he'll have to be at the airport by ten because he's dragging about five suitcases, several bags, and hockey sticks with him before he leaves. All the luggage contains clothes and hockey stuff.

Well, that leaves us only about seven or eight hours left together, depending on how long we're going to be saying goodbye. I'm crying, of course. We were still packing yesterday, and I started crying at that too. I'm just going to cry until the end of the holidays, then the start of school and by the end of September it might just be before bed. I'm really gonna miss him, so much.

"Mousie, we have phones, tablets, laptops. We'll call each other. It'll go by fast, and before you know it, I'll be holding you close again." I lift my head from his chest and he looks down at my tearful and snotty self. He takes a tissue from the nightstand, wipes my nose, then wipes my tears clean with the other. "Tears don't suit you."

"Too bad, get used to them." Now he'll only see me with tears for a long time. He takes a breath, but he's a little away from a complete breakdown himself. He doesn't want to cry, and it's because of me. He knows that if I saw him cry, it would be the end of me.

"What are you so afraid of? No one's going to kill me in there, I'll take care of myself, I'll call you every day." With a nine-hour time change.

"Samuel also promised."

"But I'm not Samuel, he's an asshole and a dick for not getting back to you." He strokes my cheek and then pulls me back to him. I hear a few more curses in Samuel's direction, but they stop after a while. He smells as wonderful as ever. Like shower gel, water and a little sweat. When I smell his perfume, I know it's him. He could be in the other room, but as soon as his scent hits my nose, I know it's him and I don't even have to see him.