hey guys! i recommend listening to these while reading:
'AN EGO THING' BY LIZZY MCALPINE
'STAY' BY GRACIE ABRAMS
Between arguing with Clay and being nervous about missing my flight, I barely slept last night. I tossed one way and turned the other until I was left just staring at the ceiling. I replayed my conversation with Clay over and over again.
Why am I even worrying about this? I ask myself, Isn't it time to let go?
I zip my suitcase up with the last of myself. I triple-check my ID and boarding passes. I catch a glance of myself in a mirror. It's taped with bubble wrap in order for it to not break, but I can see myself in a sliver.
I smile at the person in the mirror, and remind them that they can do this. I'm doing this, and that's so much more than I could say a couple months ago.
I walk out of my room and glance to the left, towards Clay's door. It's shut and the lights are off, but I walk up to anyways. I don't knock or dare to make a noise.
He wanted to space to think, and now he's upset that I gave him that. The truth is, I want space now too. I need to be somebody without him.
I won't be the one who apologizes first, that's for sure, and I doubt that he will too.
"He's not here." Nick's voice causes me to jump. He's standing at the end of the hallway, glancing back at me. "He went to sleep at his parent's last night after everything that happened."
I sigh; Nick confirming one of my biggest worries. "You heard it all?" I ask.
Pity lines his eyes as his head bobs up then down once. "We don't have to talk about it."
"Nick, I-"
"It's okay, y/n," he interrupts me, "we know."
I nod, grateful that he doesn't want an explanation. What would I even say? Clay and I weren't even enough to have to explain. Maybe that's the saddest part of it all.
I glance at Clay's door one more time. I put my hand up to the door. Maybe this fight means that Clay and I don't talk for a while, and I've decided that's a good thing.
I tap the door once, and I say my goodbye to him.
Nick hands me two travel mugs. "Hold this coffee for a minute." I take the coffee, watching him pull a sweatshirt over his head. I realize this is one of the last mornings things will be like this. I could go to New York, and everything could be different. I could be different. Nick grabs the mugs from my hand. "Thank you."
George is standing with his own coffee at the foot of the stairs. He gives me a small smile. "Are you ready?"
I take a shaky breath; all of the sudden, I don't feel prepared for anything at all. I'm transported to being eight years old. Maggie's parents are giving me a peanut butter sandwich, and I depend on everyone else to figure all the world's problems out.
"Not really," I tell George.
He chuckles. "I think I said that, too."
I had almost forgotten George has done this, too; he's done this but across an entire ocean, to a new country. I take a second to admire his bravery and courage. I had never seen it before.
"George, aren't you going to be cold?" Nick asks.
While Nick and I are wearing long sleeves and shorts, George is wearing a tshirt and shorts. He scoffs before opening the front door. "You guys wouldn't survive London."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Nick asks, going to follow him.
"I mean that this weather isn't even cold." George is walking down the front steps.
"I was more worried about you getting a cold, George." Nick waits for me to walk out the door before locking it. "I could walk out here naked and be perfectly fine."
"No you could not," George calls out from next to the car.
"Yes I could."
I turn around to look at the green door, and I realize that I won't be coming home to it tonight. Tonight I will be in a new place, and I'm going to have to make new front door memories there.
"Would you unlock the car, stupid idiot?" George yells at Nick.
"Why? Are you cold, George?" Nick taunts.
"Just open it," George says, frustrated.
Leaving is so much harder than I thought it would. I walk to the car in a trance, not turning to see what I'm leaving behind.
I sit in the back seat of the car, being the last one to get there. Nick and George are arguing over what songs to put on.
"It is too early for your Texan to come out," George swats Nick's hand away.
"It's always to early for you, but I never complain." Nick changes the music anyways.
"Let me pick," George sounds like a little kid now.
"Wait, wait." Nick's voice is filled with excitement. "Dua Lipa?"
"Yes!" George sighs. "I knew you could pick good music."
My brows furrow. "No you didn't."
"What do you mean?" George turns his body to look at me in the back. "Yes I did."
Nick starts a song and begins to back out of the drive way. George turns back around when he recognizes the song.
It's early in the morning for them to be yelling at each other, then yelling song lyrics, but I feel happy anyways. This is what I want to remember when I'm in New York.
Nick lowers the volume after a few songs. His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. "You're coming home for Christmas, right?"
I don't miss a beat. "Of course I am."
He smiles. "Good."
The long drive feels two short with these two. We don't even talk that much, and I'm begging the GPS to take a little longer. I just want more time.
Nick pulls into a spot to drop people off. He takes a deep breath when the cars put into park. Nobody speaks for a moment.
Nick's the one to break the quiet. "Alright, y/n, the city waits for no one."
The boys get my two suitcases out of the trunk and onto the sidewalk. I stand on the sidewalk with the suitcases now; the boys stand next to the car.
Nick is the one who crosses the space between us and envelopes me into a hug.
"I'm going to miss you," he says into my hair.
I tighten our embrace. "I'm going to miss you so much, Nick."
"You're always welcome back home." His voice is still a whisper.
"Thank you."
He kisses my right temple before pulling away; tears line his eyes.
George takes an awkward step forward, unsure what to do. I hold out two arms, and he walks straight into them.
George and I haven't been very close, so the mere fact that he's hugging me means more than I'll ever let him know.
"How'd you have the courage to get on the plane?" I ask him quietly.
"You just walk," he jokes before really answering, "You're more ready than you think."
"God, I hope you're right." I give him one last tight squeeze as I pull away.
He looks me in the eyes; one of his hands is still on my shoulder. "Let yourself have fun there, okay?"
I nod, and, like Nick, tears threaten on the edge of my eyes.
"Just walk," George repeats.
"We'll see you at Christmas," Nick reminds me, "It's only twenty-two days away."
"Not that anyone's counting." George rolls his eyes.
My eyes flit between the two boys. "Thank you, for everything."
"Thank you for everything," Nick says.
I take a deep breath, realizing it's now or never. I glance at the boys one last time. "I'll see you at Christmas."
_ _ _
The airport in New York is a lot more crowded than the one in Orlando. I barely made it out of luggage claim with both my hands and feet.
Couples and friends and families reunite all around me. My eyes scan the crowd until I see my name sprawled across a sign. I walk across the floor to meet the man behind the sign.
"Hi," I say, "I'm y/n."
"Hey, I'm Alfred," the man says; he's a bit older and a bit heavier set. "Magnolia Kennedy said I'll be your driver today and then again Monday night for the Start-Up party."
Magnolia's name makes my shoulders relax. "That sounds perfect."
Alfred insists on putting my suitcases in the car himself. "It's my job," he had said.
I get in the backseat of the car, and I stare out the window the entire drive.
"First time in the city?" he asks.
I nod. "Yeah, first time."
He chuckles. "I could see it by the look on your face."
My cheeks turn red at the thought of me looking like a tourist.
"It's okay," he tells me, "I've lived here for my entire life, and I still get that look sometimes."
He continues driving, and a group of people line up on the sidewalk. "What are they waiting for?" I ask.
"Some pizza place," he says nonchalantly, "but I have to tell you this one coming up on your right is ten times better."
I nod. "I'll make sure to try it."
"I might be bias," he says, "This corner right by it is where I met my wife fifty years ago."
I smile and take another look at the corner. I notice a bright blue sign hanging on the wall. It looks like every other corner, but it obviously holds so much meaning to him to point it out. "Really?" I ask, "How'd you meet?"
"I apparently took the last slice of cheese." He shrugs. "She chased me down the street because that was hers."
"Did you give it to her?" I ask.
"No, she took it." He laughs. "I knew I was a goner after that."
Alfred pulls up to the apartment and hands me an envelope. "This is from Ms. Kennedy."
"Thank you," I say, "and thank you for the ride."
"Anytime, Miss." He tips his head like he's wearing a hat.
I climb two flights of stairs until I reach apartment number seven. The door is plain white with a big gold number. I unlock it with a key from the envelope.
I open the door and walk into the next year of my life.
It's a small apartment, separated into three sections. One with the kitchen, then the living room, and my room is in the back. It's empty besides a single bed.
I spin in a circle in the living room. This is the first place I've lived that's completely mine. I won't find dirty socks on the floor or dishes in the sink that weren't put there by me. I am independent of all others.
My brain goes to how I can personalize it all; how I can make this room look like it's mine. I go to my bag and fish out three polaroids.
The first one is Maggie and I sitting on her couch; a thumb covering a good majority of the picture. The second is a polaroid of the boys and I eating pancakes one Saturday morning. The last one is George and I sitting on the couch, laughing as Nick lays across our laps.
I tape the pictures on the wall to show some personal touches. I see a red paper sticking out of my suitcase and walk over to grab it.
It's Maggie's brochure of New York City. My finger traces the cityline before I flip through the pages. I see things circled, and I plan to do every single one of them.
Finally, Maggie says in my head, we're doing this thing.
A smile at a frowny face next to Times Square. The words 'Too Tourist-ty' are sprawled above it.
Yelling sounds from outside. I walk towards the one window of my apartment. It sticks shut for the first couple tries before I'm able to finally open it.
A group of guys are laughing in the street below. Nobody around them seems to be affected; like this is something they get to see every single day.
I look forward, towards the skyline of the city. I go back into the living room to retrieve the brochure. I hold the brochure up to compare. It's not exact, but it's exactly what I need.
It's this moment that I know I will not let Clay get to my feelings here; he cannot dictate my life anymore. I'm going to follow through with what George said. I am going to let myself have fun here.
I take a deep breath of the air, which smells slightly of burned meat. I smile as the men get out of earshot. I will never see them again in my life, and I think there's so much beauty in that.
I sit on the windowsill, realizing that I really am here. I'm here, Maggie, I think in my head, and I think this New York thing was exactly what I needed.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
trust the process, trust the author, everyone :)
have an amazing day! we're in NYC baby!