Make Me (Editing)

one (edited)

For better or for worse, moving to America had always been my ultimate goal in life.

Ever since I was fifteen, when my high school best friend Rebecca and I had constructed a detailed ten-year plan mapping out everything from our college degrees to our apartment's precise location just across from Broadway, I'd decided that nothing could get in the way of me getting to the Big Apple. That sentiment, of course, had been tested immensely over the following years, with criticism coming in all forms and from all angles. But no amount of council, no matter how wise, would be enough to convince me in any other direction.

Having grown up in the 'perfect family' in the safety of an understated Australian suburb, I felt as though I needed to take some risks and live a little. My parents had given me the classic sheltered upbringing, lined with curfews and restrictions, healthy meals and a private school education. In hindsight, I was grateful for mostly everything they'd done for me, no matter how hopelessly deprived I may have felt at the time. But I'd also always yearned for independence, and this was my chance to dive into the deep end of that pool.

Perhaps the only downside of my move (apart from the ridiculously high cost of living) was the inevitable loss of constant close contact with my friends, my family and my beautiful boyfriend Marcus. There were definitely certain individuals who had contributed to my desire to move more than ten thousand miles away; I had always hated the gossip and petty drama. But the fact that I had to leave behind a bunch of people who I really did care about was a tough pill to swallow.

"I sorta can't believe this is actually happening," Rebecca spoke from beside me. The two of us were wheeling our bulky suitcases towards the entrance to the international departure gates. This, of course, would be the last part of the airport where our entourage would be permitted, but I tried my best not to think about that.

Said entourage, consisting of both our sets of parents, my brother and his fiancé, my boyfriend and a small selection of close friends, were trailing behind Becca and I, resembling what I could only describe as a sort of funeral party. No one spoke. No one really smiled, or had any distinct expression for that matter. The only thing missing was tears, which I knew were on their way.

As we arrived at the gate, the two of us set down our suitcases and bags, freeing ourselves of that burden while we said our final goodbyes.

"Well I guess this is it, guys," I attempted to sound enthusiastic but failed quite miserably.

A short silence followed. No one really knew how this was to work.

"Come here, sis," my brother Jake was the first to speak up, pulling me into a tight hug. "America doesn't know what's about to hit 'em."

We all laughed, and the awkwardness was broken. Trust Jake to be able to turn the mood around.

"I love you, Jakey," I smiled, before shifting my gaze to where his fiancé Mia stood behind him. "And I can't wait to come back for the wedding."

"Oh yeah true!" Rebecca pitched in. "I forgot the bit about you leaving me all alone in a foreign country."

"It shouldn't be foreign by then!" I laughed. Jake was getting married in just over three months' time, an event which I of course would be coming back home for. I'd offered to have Becca join me, but she'd decided not to in order to save some money on the flights. There was still plenty of time for her to change her mind on that one.

I continued doing the rounds, hugging all my friends goodbye, taking a few final selfies with them for the sake of social media. Although it was hard to part ways with all my mates, by far the hardest goodbyes were yet to come.

"I'm going to miss you so much, my love," Marcus engulfed my small frame in the warmest of hugs. He was tall but well-built, his features so soft and comforting.