Forgetting You

Far From Here

Instead of taking me back to the airport, she took me to my old apartment. I told her she could leave. I would probably be a while. It was the best place for me at that moment.

I walked up to the door. I could still smell the old scented candles we used to burn. I slid the key in. Turning the knob gently, there was a waft of memories. All of the videos we made, all the yelling matches, all of those cold lonely nights oh, so long ago. I floated up the staircase into my old bedroom. There was nothing in it except my old bed frame and broken piano. He loved that stupid piano. I walked into Phil's room. That ugly wicker bed still stood in the middle of the room. His closet was full of his colorful, and questionable, shirts. His chest at the foot of his bed remained untouched. All of his personal items were intact. I was supposed to go through all of his personal belongings and keep what I wanted and donate the rest to charity. For some reason unbeknownst to me, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Rummaging through his things seemed wrong. So, instead, I walked over to his laptop. The only reason he kept the apartment was for business trips to London. His background was of us, looking over top of Manchester from our ninth floor flat. I clicked on his camera, lights. I was going to make a tribute video. I went into my old room, opened up the closet, hoping everything I left was still here. It was. The two shirts I was looking for were staring me right in the eye.

After changing and writing a baseline in record time, I was ready to begin. I took a deep breath.

"Did I know Phil Lester? Well kind of... I mean, he was always with that weird Dan guy, but he was nice, I guess." I cut the tape and played it back. Holding back tears, I went to change my clothes.

"Yeah, I knew Phil... He was one of the nicest and most caring person I knew. I don't think Jessica was fond, but, I liked him. I may have had a crush on him once, but only for a few days. Then my cereal started disappearing." I stopped recording and began to cry. I put my head in my hands. I sobbed like I had never sobbed before. Phil was gone. Standing up, I walked over to his bed. He hadn't made it before he left. I flopped down on it. The mattress enveloped me and I grabbed one of his pillows. I threw it on my face and inhaled. It still smelled of his cologne. Sitting up on the bed, I pondered what to do now. I could spend more time with more time with Angela, do what I wanted, or I could move to America and never talk of England again. No. I couldn't do that to Amanda. Michael and Daniella needed me.

I took my phone out of my pocket. Dialing the number, I put it up to my face.

"Hey, Angela, I think that I'm gonna move back to London. I mean... yeah. The apartment is already here and still furnished." I was practicing what I was going to say. I had made up my mind. I was moving back to London. Dialing Angela's number, I thought about my decision. When I tell her this, she will never forgive me. This is my decision anyways, not hers.

"Dan? I thought you were with Phil's family?" I clenched my fist. Just do it.

"Ange, I'm calling it off. I can't be with you anymore." I waited patiently for a response. There were a few moments of deep breathing before speech.

"But, Dan, what about...-"

"I thought about that. I still want to be part of its life. I just don't think 'us' will work anymore," she was about to speak once again before I cut her off. "I'm moving back to London." she sighed. I told her I would come back to Manchester often to see the baby. I meant it. It was my child too.