The Good Hair Family Sitcom

S3 E8.3: Endings and Beginnings

Brayden's POV

Deion: Are you coming?

Deion: Hey, we're leaving for the airport soon.

Deion: Okay, well...bye.

I've been sitting on the porch steps for half an hour—regretting everything. The wind freezes my hands as I hold my phone, staring at the messages he sent, and I read them, but I gave no response. Eventually, I drop my phone on the stairs and pull my knees up to my chest to bury my face into them while I cry, draining more water than the Niagara Falls. I doubt any waterfall could beat me. I'm discovering that tears are one of those things that you simply never run out of. No matter how long, you can always keep crying. I wonder if that was purposeful when humans were made. God just knew that there were far more bad things in the world, so he made tears endless, yet if you smile for too long, you get tired. There simply aren't as many joys that exist. Deion was one for me, though. And he's gone. And I didn't say goodbye. I stayed here instead, contemplating. I was afraid. I'm still afraid. I can't say goodbye to him. If I do, I will fall to pieces. But now he probably thinks I don't care. Oh, how untrue that is. He would understand if he knew how much it hurt me just to think of his name anymore, just to look at that cassette he let me keep. I may just have to get rid of it if it makes me feel this empty.

The door opening turns my head up again, and I look over to see Cara coming out of the house to sit down beside me.

"You cry loud," she says. "Shouldn't you be saying goodbye to your boyfriend?"

I ignore the boyfriend comment, because I don't have the energy to argue with her.

"I don't know how," I respond.

"Aren't you a genius?" she counters.

"Not with this. I've never experienced this before."

"So you're just letting him leave without saying goodbye?"

I remain silent, and Cara shakes her head.

"Wrong choice," she says.

"Cara, if I say goodbye to him, then I'm going to become a puddle of tears." More than I already am.

"Then become a puddle."

Such a plain, frank answer, with no thought at all, but somehow it actually wedges its way into my brain. I will shatter when I see him, but maybe that's okay. Maybe that's better than being a window that never sees the outside. But there's another problem.

"He's already at the airport by now," I mumble, "and Mom and Dad aren't home to drive me."

"Get someone else to drive you," Cara responds. "I would, but driving laws are biased."

Having an idea, I stand up, bringing my phone with me.

"Thank you, Cara."

"Go get 'em!" she shouts as I walk toward the sidewalk and unlock my phone to make a call.

________________________________________

Brayden's POV

I look through the heads of the travellers to check each gate number in the airport. I walk so fast that Jonah and Walker struggle to keep up, but I have no time to waste. I can't be late.

"Which gate?" Walker asks.

I count the numbers. 28, 29, 30—31.

"That one," I say, stopping in my tracks.

Jonah looks down at me as I stand frozen in the middle of the path.

"You gonna walk?" he asks.