The Art of Hope || Wattys 2017

Chapter 2 ➵ Goodbye, Farewell, So Long

As the door clicked shut behind me, I knew I was leaving something behind that I could never forget. These people had become my family these past two years. We annoyed the heck out of each other, sure, but isn't that what family is for?
Saying goodbye to this place was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.

My steps were slow, heavy, and exaggerated as my family and I made our way to the parking lot in front of the school. Our red Nissan stood out among all the other cars in the lot. It's vibrant color captured the attention of anyone walking about, which proved very useful at times.

I ran to the car like it was an old friend, waiting to wrap me in its arms. I just wanted to be anywhere other than this school. The faster I could get away from this place, the faster I could leave it behind. The faster I could say goodbye. The faster I could get rid of the grief.

Tears were streaming down my face by the time I reached the car. I had been trying to hide it for far too long. I couldn't hold it in anymore. Those tears had been building up inside of me for the longest time, eventually they were bound to overflow.

I slammed the car door closed and buried my head in my hands. I was done with this. I was done pretending to be strong. I'm not strong. I never have been.

I heard the front doors open, and knowing it was my parents I didn't look up, but I could feel their eyes on me.

"Are you okay honey, do you want to--"

"No, dad, I don't wanna talk," I said between the sobs.

There was an elongated period of awkward silence, and I finally realized that I shouldn't have snapped. "I'm sorry, dad. I shouldn't have responded that way." I looked up from my hands to see both of my parents concerned faces staring back at me. "I've been holding these tears in for such a long time, I really just need to cry right now. I love you both, and I appreciate the concern, but sometimes a girl's just gotta cry, ya know?"

They continued looking at me and finally my dad said, "It's okay honey, I completely understand."

"Thanks, poppa," was all I managed to choke out before sobs racked my body again.

It was a good 30 minutes until the tears slowed to a steady drip drip every now and then. I looked up to see the trees whizzing by me as we made our way home.
I began to think about the experience at the school and my father's stone face as he glared at the wall. I decided to ask him about it.
"Hey, dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you happy for me?"

Hesitation.

"Of course I am sweetie, I just--" he paused to think about how he was going to continue. "I just don't like the idea of leaving everything behind to start over."

"Oh, daddy--" more tears came. "I understand. That's why I'm crying. All of my friends are here. They are my family. I may never get to see them again. It's almost like they died or something." I had trouble choking the words out, but I continued anyway. "But, dad?"

"Yeah, hun?"

"Can you try not to be angry about it?"

"Wait, what?"

"Well... you've been kind of distant lately, and every time we talk about England, you tense up. Believe me, I wanna be angry too, but where would the anger go? What does it do? I mean, how does anger help anything?"