The Things We Leave Behind

e i g h t

Homecoming was around the corner, and I didn't have a date. Not that I wanted one. I didn't want to go with Logan.  I didn't particularly want to go at all. As cliché as it sounded, I would much rather stay at home and study but Lana's practically begging me to go. She's pick me up in a few hours so we can go dress shopping, which doesn't sound too bad. I love dresses and I love shopping so it might be fun.

It was one in the afternoon on a Saturday, and I was stumped with my NYU homework.  We have to write a poem from the heart. The assignment was of few words, and I could be as long or as short as we liked but it had to be original and heartfelt, but I couldn't think of anything. Somehow, the girl with so much depressing shit in her life couldn't figure out what to write about. How ironic. I keep rereading the prompt again, hoping to find some underlying meaning but it's still the same every time.

I decide to stop working for now to try and clear my head. I'll come back to it later with fresh eyes and hopefully clear of any brain fog. I sigh to myself, knowing that sitting here staring at the paper isn't going to do anything. I stood up and paced around my room, stretching my legs and taking a breather. I walk over to my beside table and pull out my novel for English class that we are studying this semester.

While The Scarlett Letter was widely regarded as an obscene and inappropriate book, that made the English faculty even more inclined to read it. My English teacher, Mr Hubble, said that the most controversial things are often the most interesting.

"That's why people love gossiping so much," he said to us on Friday afternoon. The whole class cracked up at his joke. "The reason we read this book is to explore the ideas of sin, forgiveness and redemption. We have to learn these things to understand the consequences our actions have. Even if we commit these so called 'sins' we have to learn from our mistakes. That's what makes English literature so powerful. Endless ideas and endless explorations of amends."

I think he's the first decent English teacher I've ever had. He truly means that there are no right and wrong answers in class and every answer should be thought through because maybe no one else had thought of it.

I read for a little while, until my eyes start to feel heavy. I didn't get much sleep again last night and my body is feeling it today. I close the book and stand up as I rub my eyes. I decide that I feel like having some afternoon tea, so I trudge downstairs to where everyone else is.

I see Jackie sitting at the kitchen table on a phone call while her husband, Daniel, reads the newspaper. "Hello Cassie," he says without looking up from his paper. He and my dad were pretty close, so he became like a second dad to me. "Hello Mr Anderson," I reply as I grab a mug from the cupboard.

He sighs, hating that I act formal with him. It's not that I feel a need to, he just gets pissed off and it's funny. He's like Logan in that sense. "Cassie, I've known you for almost 10 years and you still call me by my last name."

"I can't help it. I'm a respectful person," I reply, smiling.

"Good one. I remember once I was walking through your front yard while you were watering the plants and you sprayed me with the hose," he recalls. I shrug innocently. "You were on the grass." He laughs as I start the kettle to make the tea. I open another cupboard and get out a tea bag, completely in my own world as I make the beverage.

I walk over to the pantry and get a small packet of chocolate chip cookies to munch on. When I get back to the counter, the water is ready to be poured. I let the tea brew for a minute or two, then take out the bag and add the milk, stirring it gently. I smile again at Jackie, who's still on the phone, and whisper a goodbye to Daniel. I carefully walk up the stairs, trying carefully not to spill the tea.