These Coming Years

Chapter Five: A Boy to a Man

"What did he say?!" Marisol demanded. "Does he feel the same way?"

"I don't know," I breathed. "He just said he wants to see me. It's been a really long time, I don't blame him. He said he still cares about the time we had, and he just wants me to go visit him."

"You're going to go see him?" Her eyes widened. "Where is he?"

"He's in New York," I answered. "He didn't tell me how long he wanted me to stay, but he told me to be prepared for anything."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know. I mean, I'm sure his life is crazy now."

She took a moment to process. "So.. How are you going to get there? Are you going to drive? That's like, over two thousand miles."

"I know. I thought about that too," I looked in the envelope. "But then, I found this." I pulled out a plane ticket and held it out to Marisol.

She gasped, and swiped it quickly, "Are you kidding me?!" Her eyes danced across the ticket, her mouth gaping. "What if you said no? Like, he already bought the ticket and everything."

"I can't say no," I stood up, running my fingers through my hair. "Even if I had to drive there, I would leave right now. I can't pass this up."

"Do you feel obligated to go just because he asked you too?" Marisol hinted.

"No, no," I denied. "I mean, I'm obligated to go for myself, not necessarily for him. I don't even know what he's going to say to me, but I think he wouldn't ask me to fly out to him just to pick a fight."

"What do you mean, like, closure? What if you don't get that?"

"I think it's worth it," I stated, taking the ticket from her.

"You know that flight is scheduled for tomorrow morning? Do you want to just stay up tonight?" She asked. I shrugged. "We could have a junk food plus horrible movies night like we use to."

I looked up at her. She was smiling wide, making me forget about how much the ticket in my hand weighed me down. The memories of high school came flooding back once more. Staying up on school nights, watching bad infomercials and eating whatever we could get our hands on. All the mornings, slugging to school because we were so tired. I hadn't anything like that in a long time.

Marisol sent Rudy a text to stop at the store and pick up food and movies after work. He seemed enthusiastic about it. Marisol then told me that she was going to have full authority over what I packed. It really was like we were eighteen again. She dug through my clothes, throwing them either into a "yes" or a "no" pile.

"Seriously, six years and you never once bought a pink or yellow shirt?" She demanded. "Everything is still black."

As she packed a big bag for me, I noticed she was choosing all of my most lacy tops with dramatic cuts. Things I had packed in a bag that I hardly wore anymore. She started looking through my pants before she found my bag of skirts and leggings, and a couple of dresses. She held up a dress and looked at me.

"If you tell me to wear that on the plane, I will not hesitate to punch Rudy when he gets home," I growled.

"Punch Rudy?" She asked. "What did he do?"

"Nothing, but you're pregnant," I pointed at her belly. "I can't hit you anymore." She packed it anyways. She also threw in a couple skirts and a few pairs of leggings. When she felt like the bag was up to her standards, she zipped it up and set it by the front door.

"You can pack anything else you need," she said.

"Well, thank god I had you to do all the hard work for me," I muttered. She left me to put together a bag of toiletries and get my makeup together. I hadn't even worn my makeup in so long. I wouldn't be surprised if I didn't remember how to put it on.