Long Way Home | Michael Clifford AU

Friday, May 15 | 8:00pm

I looked around and sighed, taking a sip of the drink that was in my hands. I always thought that once I had graduated, the world would be covered in some sort of film that just radiated with happiness and freedom. I was finding out quickly that it wasn't true. I sat in the backseat of my friend, Sean's old Cadillac, his girlfriend practically in his lap as he drove down the road. My best friend, Naomi , sat beside me, her fingers intertwined with her guy-of-the-week, and I sat by myself... sipping on a warm Bud Light, wondering when this happiness filter would suddenly swipe on.

I was happy in general, but everyone has those nights where they just want to be alone. I didn't want to be stuffed into a car that smelled of weed and flat Mountain Dew. I didn't want to be surrounded by couples in love or couples faking love, whichever it was at that moment. It was all just a reminder that not even 24 hours beforehand, the love of my life broke my heart.

He told me that he was doing what was best for me. I kept trying to roll over the situation in my mind. I kept trying to convince myself that he was doing this for me. He was going to school in Perth, while I was staying in Sydney. I had no doubt in my mind that we could make things work over the distance for a few years, but obviously he did.

So it was just like that, an entire year of my life, my first everything, was gone from me. And where was I? Stuck in the back of a fucking Cadillac playing fifth wheel.

I was never much of a party-goer, but I was holding my breath, hoping to show up at the location as quickly as possible so that I could slip away and end up spending the rest of my night in the back of someone's garden, or petting the family dog that was forced to wear a party hat.

Once we pulled up to the curb, I practically jumped out of the car, immediately introduced to whoops and hollers disguised underneath EDM music. I barely said a word as I bound into the house, weaving in and out through crowds of people, some of which I had known and gone to school with, others that I had never seen before. I quickly dropped my warm beer in a trash can, grabbing a glass bottle of whatever, flipping the top off. I finally took a second to breathe as I leaned against the counter.

Around me, I was surrounded by your typical Australian girl. Blonde, tan, beautiful. I wasn't anything special; hair dyed red, pale skin. I know I wasn't terrible looking, but I was definitely put under water by some of these girls.

"Hey, Andy." A voice said next to me as the refrigerator opened and the light illuminated the southern part of the kitchen.

I turned to see my old friend, Michael. When I say old, I mean old. Our parents were best friends growing up. We spent every day together. Days at the beach, going on hikes and even movie nights in his parent's basement. Eventually my parents got divorced and we just stopped hanging out. We tried to keep in contact, but he eventually got a girlfriend who sucked up all of his time and we just drifted apart. Life happens and that sucks.

I cleared my throat and took another sip before I said anything. "It's Andrea." I said softly, turning towards him. I tilted my head slightly as he shut the door, popping the lid to his beer off. "I'm not seven anymore."

He leaned against the fridge, his shoulder pressing up against photos of a family that I didn't know and he crossed his feet down at the floor. "What are you doing at a party anyway?" He asked with a slight shrug. "I thought this wasn't your crowd." He turned his head to look around, which made me do the same.

Part of me didn't want to admit it, but this definitely wasn't anything close to my crowd. These... these were the popular kids. The kids with money who were good at sports. The kid who had a full ride from playing soccer was doing a keg stand. The girl who set the nationwide record for the kilometer was sucking the face off of the kid who never wore the same outfit twice. Meanwhile, I was wearing my usual flannel over a tank top, and I was neither talented nor born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I hung out with the stoners, mainly because they didn't care that I didn't smoke...