No Time Like Now (Lesbian)

Epilogue

Never, ever, am I going on a plane for nine hours straight again. Nope. Fuck that.

As a result of sitting for that long, my walk now has a waddle to it. Dad has the grace to keep the laughter to himself as he watches his wobbling kid struggle to get her luggage from the baggage claim. He takes two of my bags and carries them with his one small bag, so I only have to drag the suitcase out of the airport.

"So, I take it you had a good time on the plane?" Dad asks once we get into a black cab.

I cringe as I collapse into my seat. The first thing I'm gonna do when we get to the destination is burn off the nine hours of sitting with some jogging. Even if I have to join the local marathon to do so.

"I know what my Hell is like when I die," I answer.

"The bright side is you have all the time in the world before you die."

Uh-huh.

As I'm trying not to nod off, the driver -- prompted by Dad -- recommends sights for us to see and what pubs are worth going to, which is most of them around here. I'll give the driver credit, though; he doesn't play favorites when it comes to pubs.

Several times the driver makes a detour to stray from heavy traffic. The vehicle rolls over the bumpy road, causing me to smack my head against the window while I was resting. After the third time, I decide to hold off resting until we get to Homemaker Student Housing, my place of residence for the school year.

"If I were you," Dad tells me, "I'd watch how the driver navigates on the road. It'd be nice to know how different the rules are compared to the ones back in US."

I shake my head. "I don't trust myself driving here. Besides, everything is within walking distance."

His eyebrows shoot up. "I'm surprised you know how to use your legs for that."

I stick my tongue out. Can't flip off the parent who helped me get here.

A short while later, the cab driver stops the car, announcing our arrival. I jump out of the vehicle as Dad gets out colorful notes to pay the fare. Once we get the luggage, we head towards one of the two doors that stand next to each other.

"Are you coming in?" Dad asks, when I stop right outside the left door.

"Yeah, give me a minute."

With a shrug, he lets himself in.

The cab's already gone, so I'm by myself, taking in the appearance of what's probably two buildings. Like the doors, the structures are right next to each other, and separated by a thin line of space. Brown-grey bricks fill in the spaces between the white outlines of the windows and doors. There's no sign displayed on the buildings, or at least none that I can tell.

The buildings I passed by were similar; nothing like the 'modern' structures I've seen back in the US, no-nonsense colors decorating them, and very comfortable taking up space between them. It would have to take some getting used to. Maybe a couple days.

Having enough of the sight-seeing (because a couple people were giving me weird looks as they passed by), I finally enter through the same door Dad went to, where he's waiting by the front desk. Immediately I notice the lack of luggage.

A guy not much older than me greets from behind the help desk. "Hello, you must be the famous Niamh," he says, shaking my hand.

"Sorry, is it normal to greet people as 'the famous' whatever their name is?"

He smiles as Dad chuckles. "I may have told him a lot about you while you were outside," Dad tells me.

To the guy, I say, "Whatever he told you is a lie."

He keeps smiling, and breezes past what I said. Probably for the best. "You're already checked in, and your Dad put your things in your room. Why don't I take you on a tour around the place?"

Dad and I follow him out of the room and into the kitchen, where he explains some rules everyone must follow. And from the kitchen to the common room -- I guess 'living room' would be too casual for the place -- I'm greeted by a couple preppy students who have already moved in. I can't tell what nationality they are, since they just said hi before looking back to their laptops.

A couple more rooms to tour in, and the guy finally leads us up a small, crickety staircase and to my room. It's bare of anything personal. And technically it's not my room, since I'll be sharing with someone else. Two small beds are against the opposite walls from each other, along with identical desks and equally worn drawers. My luggage is splayed out on the floor.

"Your roommate hasn't checked in yet, so you can choose which side you want," he tells me as I step inside the room. Below, I hear a doorbell.

"This is nice," I remark. The help guy has already left, presumably to check in another person that came in just now.

Dad's skeptical. "You think so?"

"It's clean. It's presentable. I'd be hella concerned if it wasn't."

He thinks about it before nodding in agreement. Holding up his bag, which hasn't left his side the whole time, he asks, "Are you okay if I leave you here? The hotel's a block away, so I won't be too far."

Scanning the room again, I say, "Actually, can you help me set up a little bit before you go?"

He lets out a huffy sigh. It's the most dramatic I've seen him in all my life. "Sure, but just this once."

__________

So far, I'm doing good on my own. Within a few hours, my side of the room is personalized to my taste via stack of books on my desk, a blue rug by the neat bed, and a sentimental poster of a band I don't listen to anymore. Dad's already helped me with the computer setup, meaning the one thing I have to worry about is keeping it charged and preventing the wires from getting messed up.

As great as it is to start a new chapter, I miss my friends. Ikra's been texting me a lot of pictures, ranging from her dorm to her now-favorite cafe to her campus. Jeremiah just sent a thumbs-up emoji when I asked how he was doing. I'll try talking to him tomorrow.

I stand on my side of the room with my hands on my hips. Damn. It took months of planning, but I'm here. In England. The one place I didn't expect to be right now. And it's all because of a misunderstanding.

Mentally, I kick myself. I should've sent Mr. Timmons a thank-you card. I still can, but I'd have to search for his email on the mess of a website the high school has. Who knows when it was last updated?

I sit at my desk and open my laptop. Filing away the thank-you card for later, I've been itching to Skype Aspen. Man, I hope she's awake. The time difference between countries makes it hard to call at the right time.

So, when she answers my call from her bed, scratching at her disheveled hair and looking a little grumpy, I immediately apologize for the bad timing.

"I was hoping to get you before you went to sleep," I say.

Shaking her tired head, Aspen mutters, "It's fine. Only been an hour since I crawled in bed." She rubs her eyes and clears her throat. "How's England?"

I shrug. "So far, so good. I haven't seen a lot of it from the airport to housing. How's college for you?"

"Nonexistent right now. The first day's next week."

"Oh." What else do I say to that? "I'll be starting in a couple days"?

I struggle to come up with something different to say when Aspen beats me to the punch.

"Is it too soon to tell you how much I miss you?" she yawns.

I put a finger on my chin, pretending to think. "Hmm, what was the phrase I heard someone beautiful say to me so long ago?" A moment passes. "That's right. There's no time like now."

She stares at me for a long time. Then rolls her eyes. "Fuck it. I'll wait until next week."

I smile. "I'll be here."

END