I got in my car with my ticket and boarding pass. What was I going to do once I got there? Nothing. That was the point. My car? What about my car? Rob might've been a football player, but he would put two and two together. I knew he would. I kept driving and crying, the tears rushing down my face. My face was all puffy and red. I barely found time to breathe in between the heaving sobs. I kept driving. As fast as I could to get to the airport.
I finally did and went inside.
I checked in.
I sat alone in a row, crying.
We flew over Boston. My heart was pounding. I looked at the city of Boston.
The last time I'll ever be here, I thought. The last time on American soil. And it made me want to cry.
I could just see Rob reading my note now and swearing his head off.
I had used to live in Boston when I was about three, and then we moved to New York. (Needless to say, I was always going to be a diehard Patriots and Red Sox fan). After we had lived in New York, my father and Rob's father both got transferred to work in Pennsylvania. The Gronkowski's were a little over an hour away, near Woodland Hills. That's when I had decided that I needed to go to high school there, for various reasons.
Tears silently ran down my face. I took out my lyric book and started to write.
I found God on the corner of 1st and Amistad.
That was the first line. I kept writing and my pencil kept flowing. Soon I had a song. I had a song and no family. A song and no best friend. A song and no boyfriend. A song and no life to return to.
I drifted off into a nightmarish sleep. All that haunted my mind was the slick ground and the demolished car. The glazed-over eyes of my little sister. My parents wide-eyed and bloody. I just couldn't get it out of my head.