My mum's eyes began to water as she placed my heavy suitcases into the boot. I didn't understand why she was crying; she was the one sending me to boarding school. She wanted me to go and live in a different state with different people I didn't know. To be completely honest, I didn't really think she had the right to cry. But she was.
She engulfed me in a hug, sobbing quietly into my shoulder. I sighed slightly as I pulled away and threw myself into the passenger seat of my dad's car, rolling down the window. She dabbed her eyes with a tissue and sniffed, blinking rapidly until her tears subsided.
"I love you lots sweetheart," she squeaked. "Be good; don't get into too much trouble." I laughed before returning her words. As she stepped away from the car and my dad began to pull away from the curb, I felt a pang of sadness deep in my chest. This was going to be a long day.
I kicked off my flip flops and rested my feet on the dashboard, turning up the music in the car. I wasn't one for intense, meaningful conversations and to be fair, my morning had been bad enough already. I didn't want to listen to the list of warnings from my worrying father; whose forehead was becoming increasingly wrinkled as he frowned. He was thinking, I knew it. I knew that face, a face of pure concentration. It had been the same since I was a child, and it always came out during certain activities that requited a lot of thought; playing the guitar and paying bills, mostly. Now though, he just stared at the road, thinking.
The trees flashed by as I gazed out of the window. Melbourne wouldn't be my home for much longer. I was soon to be a Sydney resident, at one of the few boarding schools in the country. Ellebrooke College; even the name put me off. I imagined snobby rich kids, in perfectly ironed uniforms, with a bedtime of 8pm. Screw that. They could kiss my ass if they thought they could lock me in a dorm when the sun was still high in the sky.
A man in an orange vest was waving a neon stick towards the available parking spaces when we reached the airport. He was chubby and wore a scowl, making him look like he really enjoyed his job; not. I'm not surprised, I'd hardly enjoy standing in what was now pissing rain for minimum pay either. My father pulled the car to a stop in the closest space to the door, turning to face me as the engine puttered into silence.
"I guess this is it," he said flatly. I was like my father in more ways than one. Not only did we look frighteningly alike, share a very similar taste in music, but we never spoke of our emotions either. We both left all our feelings inside to simmer away. But if you leave something to simmer for too long, it'll burn eventually, right?
I smiled weakly back at him, sighing slightly for the hundredth time that day. Leaning over the middle console, he hugged me tightly. I wriggled slightly under the sudden contact, but accepted the unusual gesture. Hugs from my dad came few and far between, so I was willing to take whatever I could, even if it was very awkward.
I unlatched myself from my father and delved into the glove box to retrieve my passport and flight details. In a sense, I was glad my father wasn't coming with me to check in, because I was on the verge of tears now, and I was strongly against looking sappy. Looking over my shoulder one last time at my weakly smiling father, I exited the car and retrieved my bags from the rain splattered boot.
