How Strange is it to be Anything at all

Chapter 8

(3rd Person)

This time it was Peter's turn to be out of class. He wasn't there that Friday, and in fact, the next time Samuel saw Peter was a week later. Peter had made news, as he wasn't playing in the second off-season rugby game, a game that had a weird sacred aura about it. Samuel was feeling a little on edge about it but hadn't reached out to him, not wanting to bother Peter just in case something serious was going on. Peter had been hoping for Samuel to text him as well. He had gone home Wednesday night on a redeye flight. Why was he going home and missing a week's worth of class and arguably one of the biggest off-season rugby games of the semester? The answer was at a funeral home in Santa Barbara, where he and his family watched as men put his little sister into the ground. When he first found out his sister had died, he had just gotten off his flight to Northern California. It had shocked him. He hadn't been able to tell any of his friends, even Thomas and Nathan of her passing, as he couldn't bear to bring up the fact that his sister was dead. But now, being at home with constant reminders of her passing, Peter had been hoping for a single text from Samuel. The service had been a grueling three hours, where people who both knew her and couldn't even tell her favorite color got to a podium and spoke about her. It made Peter sick to his stomach. Every once in a while, when he would get a text from Thomas or Nathan, who he had told he had a family emergency he had to attend to, or another one of his other friends, he had eagerly rushed to check if the message was from Samuel. Every time, however, it wasn't. A week and a day had passed, his sister's service was over yesterday afternoon, and Peter was at the airport for his flight. It was a short flight from Santa Barbara to Redwood University's closest airport, but to Peter, it felt like hours. By the time he had gotten to his dorm room, it was already dark outside. Nathan and Thomas seemed to be out, so with nothing else to do, Peter went to bed, tired as hell.

Peter woke up to his head pounding. Besides not drinking any water for the past three days and hardly eating, he couldn't think of what was causing his headache. He checked the time and it was only four-thirty. His first class wasn't until nine. After taking Tylenol and getting back into bed, he quickly realized that he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. He lay there for a second, not knowing what to do with himself for the next few hours but soon made up his mind to scroll on social media. He checked his Instagram, seeing messages asking where he had been for last Friday's game or why he was missing classes. Of course, his professors knew the reason for his absence, but it wasn't something he wanted to share with anyone else. He messaged back the people who reached out to him, leaving them with the same message "Had some family stuff back at home. Got back to campus last night." When he swiped back to the home page, however, a story caught his eye. Samuel had posted on his story that afternoon, featuring Kenna with brownie batter smudged all over her face. Peter smiled to himself and clicked the "Send Message" button at the bottom of the screen. He thought for a second before typing out what he wanted to say.

"Kenna texted me last week that you were able to make it to class and stuff! Sorry I wasn't there, I had to go home for some family stuff." He pressed send, sighing, putting his phone next to him as he lay on his back. Peter wasn't expecting Samuel to be awake, as it was still barely five am. But then, a small buzz came from Peter's phone. He quickly picked it up and read "Thank you :) I understand. Sorry for not texting you sooner, I just assumed you were doing something important and didn't want to bother you." Peter instantly started to type back.

"Yeah, I guess it was kind of important. Sucks that I missed the game last Friday." He sent the message, and a part of him was hoping that Samuel would ask why he had gone home. It was so suffocating not being able to tell anyone else about Isabel, but it was scary to admit out loud that she was dead. Peter thought the reality of it would crush him. A few months ago, Peter would have told Maeve, his ex-girlfriend about Isabel, and would have been able to fall on her while he was going through his grief, but just two weeks before Isabel's death, he found that he was cheating on her with his rugby captain who had just graduated. Peter's phone buzzed and he was snapped out of his thoughts.