Tails

Chapter 4: Celine's POV

Packing the house wasn't a total pain in the ass because we had so little to pack. We even had enough room to pack mom's old hippie dresses from the 70s that I suggested she throw out a year ago, along with my old Rugrats rollerblades and tin Jimmy Neutron lunchbox.

First thing in the morning we went to go pick up Colleen at her house. I sat up in my seat and took out my tiny white earbuds. It was a tiny house with pink bricks. It had a small porch that had lots of empty cardboard boxes stacked all across the cement floor. I didn't mind it though because I've lived in much worse. I'm not one to look down on the 'less-fortunate'. In fact, I look down on the fortunate.

I moved out of the passenger seat and into the back. Colleen gets in and starts telling mom to hurry or we might miss our flight.

Colleen had her strawberry blonde hair in a messy bun that looked like it might fall out any minute. It's actually a good look for her though. Even at 4:00 in the morning she still managed to have a face full of makeup. When I first met her I immediately thought 'Doris Day' because that's exactly who she looked like. Every time I look at her it's like stepping into the 1950s. We're not very close, but from what mom tells me it seems like she was born in the wrong generation; wearing vintage clothing, watching film noir, listening to James Dean, and occasionally using 50s slang. She's different. I like different.

I can't believe I actually expected to have a good flight. While my mom and Colleen got rows all to themselves, I got stuck next to two Korean women who would not stop talking almost the entire flight. I had no idea if they were talking about me or not because they weren't speaking English. As I reached into my bag to grab my earbuds, hoping music would drown out their constant rambling, I realized I had left them in the car. Just my luck. My mom said I could move and sit next to her, but as I was getting up from my seat the flight attendant said "I'm sorry miss, but you'll have to stay to your assigned seat." I practically begged her if I could please move but the answer stayed the same. She kept on a fake smile the entire time she was talking to me. Underneath that toothy smile was vexation and distress.

As it reached nightfall, my thoughts started raining in about the move. Ever since my mom told me the news, I saw moving to Hawaii as this staggering new change for her and I, but as I leaned my head next to the window of the plane, the 'What ifs' started to pour into my mind. "What if things don't go as planned?" I pondered. "What if the diner eventually closes down and then we'll have to move again? What if I drown in the ocean?" I don't know what it is about the night that downcasts my mood. My thoughts are darkest at night. Night is when thoughts about my dad start to flood in. Seeing him on the bathroom floor with....

"No." I scolded myself. "Not again. Don't think about it. Please, just don't think about it." I started scratching myself as my muscles tightened. I tried to think of something else. Anything else. About how the last contestant on American Idol should never of gotten kicked off. About how badly I wanted to taste real food instead of stale airplane food. About how things are starting to turn around for my mom and I. Anything to stop me from thinking about that night. I kept scratching and my muscles kept tightening.

Then I started thinking about last winter back in Montana.

It was snowing pretty hard outside. Everyone in town was ushered to stay inside their homes until the weather calmed down. Mom and I were in the living room. It was the coziest room in the house because it was painted a deep beige, was small, and had the most snug furniture. We were in our warmest and most comfortable pajamas. Mom had her, as I like to call them, 'old lady slippers' on while I was wearing my red fleece socks that made my feet sweat like crazy, but I loved them because grandma knitted them for me before she died. Mom was sipping her coffee while I was trying to eat the small little marshmallows off of my spoon before the hot chocolate melted them. I watched old Christmas movies on ABC Family while mom read 'Pride and Prejudice' for what felt like the 100th time in a row. I splayed my feet on my moms lap and just laid there feeling calm and happy. We joked around and talked about how Mr. Darcey was a cold-hearted son of a bitch. The hot coco and cheesy Christmas movies had me extremely drowsy. As my mom got off the coach she laid my favorite quilt over me. She whispered a silent "I love you" before she turned off the lights and went to her room.

That memory somehow always manages to calm me down from my 'silent but lethal' panic attacks. It's such a simple but extremely sedative memory.

I finally stopped scratching and my muscles relaxed. I turned over to look at my mom. She had her head resting on a pillow with a book on her lap. I didn't even have to wonder what the book was because I already knew the answer. Her skin looked quite pretty under the moonlight that shone through the tiny plane window. She's done so much for me over the years. She deserves the best. She deserves this change.