The Unexpected

38 || The Stall

"Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" Grace screams in my ear as if she's five years old again.

I groan as I turn over to look at her through squinted eyes, blinded by the light streaming through my blinds. Her excitement and energy are unusual; typically she's fast asleep. My old alarm clock flashes 9:22am, telling me that it's much too early for anyone to be this loud.

"Gracie, would you kindly shut up? Let me sleep," I beg, pulling my cotton comforter over my head of messy hair.

She yanks on my only source of warmth, putting her face directly in front of mine and says, "Mom and Dad aren't going to make breakfast until after presents. Get up!"

Unmoving, I watch as she races back down the hall, towards the stairs. The loud thud of her footsteps pound through the floorboards, waking me further.

How has it already been over a month since I left Sydney? I think to myself. The thought of Michael makes my head hurt. It feels like cement is hanging from the small silver chain around my neck, not two tiny hearts from Tiffany.

Christmas Day has managed to creep up on me, warning that I need to return home soon. Just thinking of going back leaves a sour taste in my mouth, making me want to push my flight back. The appeal of this idea draws me from my bed, over to my desk.

Mid-January. I'm staying until mid-January. That gives me a little less than three weeks.

It seems that each day I find a new way to stall my return to Sydney. As much as I miss the city, and the people, I find that I'm scared of what will happen once I go back to them. Having to face Michael is inevitable; I'm not avoiding it, just delaying it. His number, along with the other three's, is still blocked.

Voices call to me from downstairs, motivating me to exit my room. I run to the kitchen to get a mug of my famous cranberry apple cider, then join my anxious family members around the tree.

"Merry Christmas!" My parents sing in unison.

Jonathan looks at me as if to say why are we awake right now?

I take a seat on one of the lounge chairs, waiting for the present opening to begin. Not expecting to get much, I zone out for a while until a box is placed in my lap.

"You didn't think you'd be left out of presents did you?" Mother asks in response to my puzzled expression.

In seconds, I've torn through all of the wrapping, leaving a long cardboard box in my lap. Once it's open, I find a ukulele staring back at me.

"You're welcome," Grace throws at me. "I know you're always trying to be one of those hip indie wannabes, so you obviously need a uke."

Rolling my eyes, I get up to hand out the presents that I bought for each of my family members back in Sydney. I didn't realise how much I had wanted to be with them on Christmas until now. Seeing the smiles on their faces as we all exchange gifts; it's something I didn't know I had missed.

_______________

As I try to find a place in my suitcase for each of my new gifts, I hear my door slowly creak open.

"Have you spoken to Michael at all?"

I turn to find my mom now sitting on my bed, concern etched in her features. As I study her face, I try to picture her back when she was my age; young and carefree. From what my dad has told me, she was one of the most sought after girls in the town they grew up in. Suddenly I snap back to reality.

Considering where this conversation is about to go, I answer her truthfully. "No..."

"Skye, sometimes you have to do the things that make you uncomfortable or upset. You can't just run away from things. You can try to leave town and hop onto the earliest flight all you want, but you'll always have to go back because there are just some things you can't leave behind. You can ditch them but eventually you will have to go back for them. Your luggage can only carry so much with you."