Till Next Time | completed | currently under re-edit

16

16
I decide to break the news to the family over dinner that night.

"I will be leaving in three weeks," I speak in a monotone. Your opinions are not welcomed.

"We could have been to Reykjavik and back by then," Dad remarks.
Mom and I pretend like we did not hear anything.

"Where will you be going?" Mom asks while breaking off a piece of her white bread.
"We are driving the East Coast, checking out the places along the 95. We will drive till Tampa Bay and then back to Chicago for Lollapalooza. Drive back home," I answer, giving away more than I intended.

"That sounds like a lot of fun!" she exclaims like she's talking to a child. Absolutely out of touch. "What about Anastasia? What did her parents say?"
I swallow a mouthful of rice to limit my speech. "Onboard."
The last thing I want to give my mother is hope. Hope that we can bridge the gap we helped create. Hope that someday she can lay her head on my shoulder and I will not flinch at contact.
Hope that things will return to just the way the used to be in some distant memory.

"Do you have everything you need?" Mom continues to ask me questions.
"Yes," I say, the irritation prominent in my tone.
"Okay." She clears her throat.
My mother may be a lot of things, impatient is not one of them. Indifferent? Maybe.

My phone buzzes against my thigh in my pyjama pocket. I check it to see a text left by Anastasia.
Hey, can you call?
I put my fork down. "I'm full." I get up and feel my appetite die with every step I take away from the table.

I walk into my bedroom and shut the door.
Anastasia picks up in a single ring. "Hi!"
"Is something wrong?" I ask, worried.
"No. Just wanted to check up on you."
I sigh. "Jesus Christ Ana, use an emoji once in a while. I freaked out."
She laughs. "Why?"
"Nothing. It's embarrassing. Anyway, what's up?"
"Nothing much. Since we are going to be leaving on a roadtrip together, stuck for God knows how long, I feel obligated-" her voice gets dramatic "- to stay connected with you."
I chuckle, "Is it too late to duck out if you are going to be this dramatic?"
"Uh, yes. The portal has closed. Sorry."
I laugh. "How do you feel though?"
"Honestly? I don't know. It is a strange amalgamation of excitement, nervousness, fear and longing. I have sat dormant for so long, I don't think I can tell one from the other."
"You don't have to. You can feel everything, all at once. As long as you feel something, you are okay."
"I guess. What about you? How are you doing?"
"Worrying."
"Worrying, why?"
"Because you get to do the fun part. I am going out tomorrow to get supplies."
"Oh man, you are adulting so hard. What will you get?"
"Taking the car to the mechanic to get it checked. Buying extra tires-"
"Okay, stop. I feel useless. Your adulting beam is blinding me," she pauses, "Wait, that sounds incredibly inappropriate!" She bursts into a fit of laughter. So do I.

I finally get myself to stop when misery takes over in form of a cramp twisting my stomach in knots. A silence prevails after that. My index finger twitches.
I do not remember when I last laughed like that.
"Okay. You should go sleep now. You got a long day ahead of you," she says.

A knock interrupts me. Dad walks in and stands at the smack middle of my room.
There it goes.
"Okay. Bye. I'll call you later." I hang up, slipping my phone between the crack of the mattress.
"I want to see you at my office in a minute," he says and walks out.

I pull my T-shirt down self-consciously and stop midway.

What for?
Who am I so eager to impress?

I step in without knocking. "You wanted to see me?"
The murky smell of stale air makes me want to dash out.

I always fucking hated this room.

Dad puts the receiver down. "Yes. I did. Take a seat."
I do as he says, unwilling to stir up something I am not prepared to deal with.

"What part of you thinks that the girl is for you?"

There it is. John Baxter. Never beating around a bush.

"I do not see how that might concern you." I cross my arms across my chest. "And the girl has a name."
"I do not understand why you refuse to be friends with people who are more suited to your background?"
"I don't owe you an answer to that."

He comes closer to me, so close I can feel him holding his anger back with every flicker of breath I feel on my nose.
"You owe me everything. You owe me your life, your education, your acquaintances, your meals, your shelter. Everything."

I hold myself back. He's right.
He's wrong but he's right.

"Apparently, she has made you forget the decorum around the house as well."
I knew he would bring up the knocking, "What did you see in her that I cannot see? What do you know about her that I do not?"

"You do not need to know about her, I do. I know her. I know who she is and what she is and what I see in her."

He stares at me for a solid thirty seconds, then I watch his clenched jaw loosen, like letting go and he moves back to a more comfortable distance between us.
I take it as my cue to depart.
As I am about to close the door between us, and seal the miles our ideals exist from one another, he clears his throat.
I stop and look back.
"I hope you know what you are venturing into."
I shut the door on his face.

A/N: Oh boy. Two chapters from scratch in a week.
Well, I hope you like this. Comment down below what you expect to see next!