Man Overboard

15. I Cannot Sleep, I Cannot Dream Tonight

I felt numb for the rest of the day. There were just too many emotions coursing through me right now: guilt about the surgery, relief that the procedure was over, worry about what was going to happen to me now. So I just decided to ignore all of it, which probably wasn't the best coping strategy but it was effective.

Tom seemed concerned with how I was handling everything once I had calmed down in the waiting room. He most likely had been expecting my crying to last longer than a few minutes, but honestly I just wanted to get out of the clinic as fast as possible.

And I wanted to go get my things from my room so I'd never have to step foot in that house again.

"We can always do this some other day if it's too overwhelming for you right now," Tom offered, but he drove to my address like I had asked him to.

"No, it has to be today," I stated. There really wasn't any other option, not any that were more desirable anyway. Not only did I need my clothes, but I also knew that my dad was going to realize I wasn't coming back home the longer I was gone, which meant today might be the last day to sneak into the house without him waiting there for me.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Tom asked as he parked the truck. "I can always just go in and grab your stuff."

"You don't even know which room is mine," I smiled at his suggestion. It was impractical, but sweet.

"I'm sure I could figure it out," Tom replied.

"It's fine, Tom," I assured. "I can go inside the house. You don't even have to go in with me. Dad's at work."

Tom immediately shook his head. "I'm going with you."

"Then let's go," I said, unbuckling my seatbelt and climbing out of the truck.

Tom followed me to the front door of the house and waited patiently as I fumbled to get out my key. I led him through the house that was filled with so many memories, the bad far outweighing the good.

I paused in front of my bedroom door. I've never showed a boy my room before and I was suddenly anxious, even though the circumstances were completely abnormal. I just hoped that the room wasn't too messy and that Tom wouldn't judge me too harshly. I've never redecorated my room, leaving the white frilly bedspread and butterfly mural that my mom had painted on one of the walls.

Tom placed a hand on my shoulder comfortingly, misinterpreting my pause. Although he was right about my room not being my favorite place in the world, it just wasn't why I was hesitating right now. But I smiled at him to show my appreciation for the gesture.

I opened the door and stepped inside. I stared at the walls for a moment, knowing it would, hopefully, be the last time I stood in this room. I felt Tom's eyes on me, probably trying to judge how best to console me. Before Tom could do anything however, I sighed and walked over to my closet.

I unearthed my suitcase from its hiding place in the back of my closet. The bag was in fairly good condition since I've hardly ever used it except for my eighth grade trip to Washington D.C. I started to pack clothes into the suitcase and threw other essentials on top of my wardrobe. I took a few of my favorite books and set them carefully in the bag. It pained me not to be able to bring all of them, but I knew I could always read them at the library.

I walked over to where Tom's painting hung on the wall. I lifted the picture off the nail and set it down on my bed. I surveyed the room, checking for anything I had missed. Once I was satisfied, I closed the suitcase and zipped it up. Tom took the bag from me, allowing me to grab my backpack that was filled with schoolwork and textbooks. I slung the bag over my shoulders and picked up Tom's painting.