Senior Year

Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHOICE
POV: Apollo

The next day I feel giddy as ever. I grew a pair and told Haven that I love her. The words fell off my tongue before I could sike myself out and take them back. I meant every word. And when she said it back I thought god was coming at that very moment. It was as if the clouds parted and a bright light appeared.

I can't wipe the smile off my face as I get ready for the day. I threw a t-shirt over my head as I heard a loud crash from downstairs. I spring into action and run out of my room. The hardwood floor slaps against my feet. When I'm halfway down the stairs I stop in my tracks.

There's a few men carrying our couches out of the front door. What the hell? There's another guy wrapping our lamps in bubble wrap. I walk over to him. "Excuse me, sir. Who are you?" I ask, confused.

He looks at me like I'm an idiot. "We're a moving company, sir." My body becomes stiff. My stomach turns into mush. We're moving? My hands are clammy. As soon as I come back to reality my mother walks in. A woman is hot on her heels.

"Wrap all the chandeliers. I had those installed but they didn't come with the house." The young lady takes notes as my mother talks. "Good morning son," she greets me.

She walks past me so I scramble to my feet to catch up with her. "Would you care to explain what the hell is happening?" I ask her.

She stops and faces me. "Did your father not tell you?" She asks. I shake my head. "I told him to tell you last night. Well, your dream has come true. We're moving back to California."

My eyes grow wide. "We're what?" I ask, my voice sounding dark and unhinged.

"Moving back to California, of course. Our flights are in three days," she informs me. My jaw slightly drops and I feel like a fish out of water.

"May I ask why?" I brush my hands through my hair in frustration.

"Because it's best for us. We need to focus on the California headquarters." Her red fingernails tap on the clipboard that the lady is holding. "Oh yeah, be careful with those paintings on the walls. They're worth a fortune."

She begins moving again and I follow every footstep. "Wouldn't you think it's a good idea to tell me?" I ask as the anger in me rises.

"I told your father to tell you." She shrugs her shoulders. "Be careful when you move the table, I don't want a scratch on the wood."

I step in front of her, stopping her from moving forward. "I'm trying to have a conversation with you."

"Son, I have so much to do." She gestures around the kitchen. "This place isn't going to move itself." She half laughs.

I shake my head at her. "Mom, please," I beg.

She locks eyes with me before nodding her head once. "Go ahead."

"I'm not moving. I have things here that are important to me." She furrows her eyebrows. "I'll stay with or without you. I'm sick and tired of living like this."

Her eyes became stern. "You are coming with us," she says, raising her voice to sound more powerful. "No if ands or buts."

"I won't go even if you tie me down to the plane. I have a life here," I explain.

"A life here?" She asks. "Do you mean a certain girl? I hope you didn't get her pregnant." My face hardens. "I'm calling your father." She whips out her phone and he answers on the first ring. "David, your son is having a crisis. Come downstairs immediately."

Moments later my father comes around the corner. He dismisses the lady with the clipboard. "What's the matter, son?" He asks.

"What's the matter? We just moved here and now you want to leave when shit hits the fan? Not to mention none of you informed me of the matter." I glare at him. He runs his hand down his peppered beard.

"Then I'll inform you now. We are leaving in three days. Pack your things or the movers will do it for you." His voice is cold, void of any emotion.

I look at the ground to avoid his gaze. "I'm not going," I say above a whisper. It has always been easier to talk with my mother. When I talked with my father it was a guessing game. I never know how he'll react.

"I can't hear you. Speak up, son." Even though we're the same height it feels like he towers over me by a mountain.

I raise my head to face him. "I'm not moving," I say louder this time. My father tilts his head at me.

"You're not what?" He asks mockingly.

I look him dead in the eye. "I said I'm not moving. I'm tired of you making my decisions for me. I won't go." My father looks at me then my mother.

"I'll call your grandparents, you can stay with them," he says before turning away to go back upstairs. My mother and I stand in shock. Did he agree with me?

"David, are we really leaving him alone?" She asks frantically. She stalks after him.

"Yes, he's practically an adult. We can't keep making decisions for him. He can stay if he wants," my father says looking over his shoulder.

"I'm not leaving my baby here." She crosses her arms over her chest. Did she just call me her baby? What the actual fuck is going on here? For the first time in a while I felt like my father finally understood me. I felt like my mother actually cared about me.

"He's not a baby anymore. Claire, pull yourself together." It feels like I'm having an out of body experience. He turns back around. "Oh, and son, take Maria to your grandparents. They could use some help." He takes a sharp inhale. "She belongs with you."

I nod at him. "Dad, thank you." He waved me off before leaving me in the kitchen. Mom is still chasing after him, trying to change his mind.

Three days later I said my goodbyes to my parents. Mom says we won't be gone for long, but I beg to differ. I knew they would be gone for a few years. My grandparents welcomed me and Maria with welcome arms. My grandfather gave me a job. I was his assistant. I would accompany to meetings and take notes for him. My grandpa was wealthy off making bourbon and wine. It was a good change; making my own money. I felt like I could breathe and I was standing on my own two feet for the first time.