When The Sun Rises | ✔

08 | Bye Felicia

Chapter 08 | Bye Felicia

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        We order our drinks and before Rondo can even walk away good, their eyes are on me again. I swallow the tightness in my throat and rummage my brain for an answer.

        "I'm not sure. I have a little bit of money saved, but not enough to actually pay rent for more than a month so I need to get a job first. And a car..."

        My voice slowly tapers off. Ever since I figured out what a gamble it is to depend on other people, its been my goal to be independent. But now the future is staring me in the face, daring me to make a move and this is the first time it's hit me that I might not be ready for this adulting shit.

        For the past nine years, everything has been decided for me. Where I went, where I lived, how long I lived there.

        So damn used to not having control, that now that the reins are being handed over to me I have no clue what to do with them.

        "Well, like I said, you're welcome to stay with us for as long as you need. We're willing to help you in any way we can, it's no problem."

        With the way he's talking like he's tasting every word before it falls from his lips, it's obvious he picked up on my mood shift. The idea of staying with them indefinitely makes me feel more out of control than ever. Staying past graduation is not an option.

        "Nah, graduation has to be it. I don't need a crutch, I'm tryna learn how to be on my own," I declare with finality, deciding for myself that I'll do whatever it takes to make sure shit goes my way for once.

        "Well, that's okay, too. We're following your lead here, Captain."

        He salutes me and gives me a reassuring smile. I look over at Ms. Corrine and her eyebrows are scrunched like she's in deep thought.

        "Well, your Uncle. What about your Uncle? Are you sure you're going to be ready to be on your own by graduation? I mean that's only ten months from now, maybe you ought to stay with him for a while. We could talk to Miranda and – "

        Mr. Paul cuts in for a second time, before she can go on another tangent.

        "Corrine, sweetheart. She's made up her mind. Why don't we just support her decision, yeah?" He snakes his arm around her waist to give her a gentle squeeze.

        She doesn’t say much after that, only speaking up when the food comes to remind us to say our grace. The rest of the time at the restaurant overflows with tension, the only relief being Daria and Donovan arguing over which is better: drums or flats.

        And the occasional drop in from Rondo checking to make sure things are going smoothly.

        Most definitely drums, I think to myself still not ready to jump back in the conversation. The half-hour we spend eating feels three times longer than usual. When Rondo brings the check around, I excuse myself from the booth and make a beeline for the door. The energy was awkward and tense as hell.

        Rounding the corner to the exit, a pair of hands immediately drop onto my shoulders preventing a head-on collision with a chest. I'm hit with the overwhelming aroma of cinnamon and expensive cologne.

        "Ope, my bad."

        The hands steady me as I stumble over my own two feet, only letting go after I regain my balance. I lift my eyes in equal parts annoyance and gratitude, fully intending to give whoever this is a passive-aggressive thank you.