Returning to Rouen brings up a lot of conflicting emotions for Emily. They'd spent most of the two-hour trip talking, and listening to the Reputation album she had insisted on playing. Charles had driven with one hand on her thigh as she'd sung along each track (or screamed like a banshee), using her phone as a makeshift mic as her hair flowed in the wind. Whenever a lyric reminded him of their own relationship, he'd look over at her, with that cute signature dimpled smile that made her heart swell in her chest.
"We're almost there," Charles says, grabbing her hand and bringing it to his lips in a comforting gesture.
Emily nods, suddenly much more aware of the surrounding scenery. She glares at the ugly suspended bridge in front of her, her heart constricting in her chest. It used to fill her with joy every time she drove through it, but all she feels now is dread. The city of a thousand bells now serves as a painful reminder of all the terrible things she's been through in the past few years.
Closing her eyes, she is brought back to the last time she'd come home. The weather had been as miserable as she'd been, the wind sweepers relentlessly clearing up the raindrops as she wiped away her tears. The backseat had been filled with overflowing boxes she'd haphazardly put together, throwing everything she owned into them —clothes she'd never wear again in the rainy Normandy weather, her beloved books with romance stories that made her want to hurl, wooden frames with his face in every picture, and what was left of her shattered heart. Her whole life, packed up in three suitcases in the trunk of her car.
As soon as she had hit the freeway, a lump had formed in her throat. Despite her need to get away from Monaco, every mile that passed was another mile away from Charles, and of everything they'd gone through together. Another cut to her already battered and broken heart. It had taken her a few days to master the energy to leave their apartment, her stupid lovesick heart still holding on to hope that he'd come back for her, but she'd left anyway. There was nothing left for her in Monaco and if she wanted a chance at getting over the breakup, she needed a drastic change.
Emily had broken down twice on the nine-hour trip to Rouen. Full-on sobbing, snot running out her nose, eyes red and blotchy, a really sad incarnation of those post-breakup scenes used in Lifetime movies. 'Pathetic' was another term that had come to mind.
Once she'd pulled herself together, she'd resumed driving, in silence at first, not because she wanted some quiet to sort out her thoughts, but because for some cruel twist of fate, the radio kept playing their songs. The first song they'd danced to, in one of Monaco exclusive clubs. The OneRepublic concert she'd dragged him to one summer. That stupid Ed Sheeran song they had playing on repeat in the car.
That trip had been hell, but what she had been dreading the most back then—just like today—was going back to her house. Her parents' house.
When she finds herself in the attic of her childhood home two days later, she thinks she's ready for the surge of emotions that will undoubtedly come. Her hands start shaking as soon as she steps onto the ladder, and the shaky breaths she manages to take only remind her that no one has been up there in years. Her dad had always been the one tasked to go up there, getting the Christmas decorations down or those old beach chairs they used to bring with them on their holidays. Her mom had always worried about rodents or birds, even though her dad assured them both that it was perfectly safe and animal-free.
Random, dusty piles of stuff layered the space and the lump in her throat feels bigger with every second that passes.
She's not ready for this.
Will she ever be?
Before she can change her mind, Emily opens up the first box and rummages through it. She'll make three piles - keep, sell and donate - like she's done to almost every room in the house. During the few weeks she'd stayed here after the breakup, she'd found herself aching to do something, anything, to keep her mind off of her sad little love life, so she's spent hours going through her parents' things. The process had been so painful she hadn't been able to tackle the whole house, leaving the garage and attic for last. Now that she finds herself back here, she knows she needs to do it. She can't move on if she still clings to the past.
