The first sound I heard when I woke up was the sound of my mother knocking lightly on my door. I opened my eyes, rolling over in my bed, wrapping my legs further in the mess that was my comforter. I did not want to talk to her right now. My flight was at three and I had committed thus far; I didn’t need her talking me out of this, not when I was this close.
I had lived with my parents throughout all of my college years. See, I had earned the top level of the TOPS program at my high school, graduating with a four-point oh and a 30 on my ACT, granting me a free-ride through college, provided that I maintain a 3.8 GPA. The best part was that they paid me to go to their college. I hadn’t left home, so I had gotten a job per the requirement of living with my parents whilst attending school. I hadn’t rented an apartment so I had money saved from that, and almost all of my earnings from my job. Not to mention that shortly after graduating three weeks ago, the novel I had written was published, making me a best selling author and raking in tons of money. Enough for me to buy a house right outside of London, where I had wanted to live for a while now.
“Come in,” I croaked, my voice still thick with sleep. I needed a glass of water.
“Hey, honey,” my mother cooed. “I just wanted to let you know that if you get cold feet and want to stay here for a while longer--”
“Mom. I was supposed to move out at eighteen, like all the other normal people. I need to do this. What could possibly go wrong?” I hope I didn’t just jinx myself.
“Well, I was just saying, I mean...” she trailed off, a hurt expression crossing her face.
I got out of bed, stretching my legs. I walked over to my mother, wrapping her in a hug. I was the one leaving, why was she acting so weird? I wasn’t going to be the last to move out; she’d have much more fun and adventures with Hardin, my brother who was going on twenty-nine this year. I felt her tears soaking through my shirt, her body shaking softly into mine. I put my head on hers, which was easy as I was about three inches taller than she was. I rubbed her back, silently praying that she would leave soon. It’s not that I didn’t love my family, it’s just that my family is very hard to love. I was awkward and quiet, spending my afternoons either studying or writing in my room, while the other three of them (Dad, Mom, and Hardin. Halley and Isabelle had moved out before me.), bustled around the house, always making noise. It was very much time for me to spread my wings and fly, as goes the saying.
“Mom,” I said gently, not wanting to hurt her anymore. “I need to get dressed,” I reminded her.
In an instant, she was out of my arms, wiping her eyes and muttering apologies under her breath. She power-walked out of my room, hustling down the stairs, probably hoping to get another load of laundry in the washer before we left for the airport.
I looked at the outfit I had planned for today, soaking in how empty my bedroom was with all of my clothes in one suitcase or another. That’s all I had really, clothes. I mean, I did own trophies and other knick-knacks, but those were stored in the attic. I took my outfit and my brush and headed into the bathroom to change and maybe look okay for the day. Maybe.
After I finished applying mascara, I looked at myself from the body-mirror in the bathroom. I had on my favorite shirt, it was a purple v-neck, paired with my dark jean-shorts and white Keds. I didn’t wear any jewelry, thinking ahead to the metal-detectors. I ran my fingers through my hair one more time, weaving them through my mop of brown hair. It went down to about mid-ribcage, waving slightly. My hair was my best feature, according to me, at least. My mom had said my eyes were just beautiful, while almost every store clerk I had ever spoken to commented on my freckles. I hated my freckles. I either didn’t have enough or had much too many, though I had never decided which it was.
When I was done primping, I rushed back into my room, re-packing my hair brush, toothpaste, and tooth-brush. I unplugged my phone, laptop, and tablet, taking care to pack them gingerly in my carry-on (I wanted to make sure I didn’t get bored on the nine-hour flight.).
I had the same breakfast I had eaten for as long as I could remember: Multi-grain cheerios and a glass of water. I liked that kind of cereal because everyone else in my family, minus my dad, hated it, so it was there whenever I was hungry. It’s hard to survive when you live with my brother, who eats everything that doesn’t eat him first. I loaded the dish I had used when I finished. I checked the time. Still pretty early. I had a couple of hours to kill before we had to go to the airport.
I found myself back in my room, taking in the bareness of the walls and the echo of my footsteps on the wood floor. If I missed any place from this house, it would be this room, with all it’s history. Countless times, I had sneaked out to the roof at night, needing to get away from it all, just like the room’s previous owner, Halley. This room was the same one that I opened the letter of acceptance to my college. This room had plenty of happy memories, but it was a prison for a while. This was the space in the house that I could get online and dream of living anywhere else but here. My parents drove me crazy and so did my siblings ninety-nine point nine percent of the time. This was the room I counted the days to graduation and in graduation, freedom. This house was one of my biggest motivations to write. Getting published had been a dream and writing had always been a passion. It was fun to read, how hard could it be to write a book? Very hard. The concentration, the mapping, the dedication to write it all the way through.
I looked around. The shelves were empty and the contents that had once been piled on them were in storage, never to be touched again. I strode out of the room for the last time. It was not like the movies. I did not gaze back on the glorified prison chamber with fondness, I did not pat the door frame with remorse. I smiled as I walked out, taking care to close the door and appreciating the sound of emptiness when it clicked. I walked down the hall, looking, really looking, at the pictures that lined the walls. They had been there for years, but I had never taken the time to acknowledge what the stills held. I stepped lightly down the stairs, walking into the living room and taking in the heart of the house. The leather couch and chairs that were quite possibly older than I was. The kitchen was quiet, wiped down. I would not miss the countless hours spent cleaning.
I knew it was selfish to be this happy about leaving their home, but this wasn’t really my home. I had moved ten times, in a total of five states. I didn’t feel at home in any of them. I felt at home in Leavenworth and we were only on vacation there. Other than that, I didn’t really feel like I belonged. I mean, I had friends, but not many. Some people and places were beautiful, but I never quite clicked, you know?
I glanced at the time again, surprised by how quickly time can fly when I’m reminiscing and reminding myself what a good idea it is to leave here and never come back. I rounded up Mom and Dad, ushering them into the car. It was early, but the drive to the airport was forty-plus minutes, not to mention going through security and customs...
Even after going through both of those, I still had forty minutes before I had to be on the plane. I decided to visit some shops instead of just sitting, waiting with my weepy mother. I had to go into the shops with her, but at least I could walk faster than her and get away. I didn’t need this.
Though my mom was bawling the entire time we were at the airport and my dad was, well, my dad, I still felt a twinge of guilt in my stomach. No, I thought, this is exactly what you wanted. I was right. I had been dying to get away from here. Literally, dying, maybe not physically, but my soul was suffering each day I stayed where I was. With my self-pep-talk giving me the surge of confidence I needed, I stepped onto the plane, walking to my seat in coach. E3, E3. Sweet, I got a window seat. I started to put my bag in the top-compartment, but thought better of it, pulling it between my feet and my seat. All of my electronics were off, but I thought I would double check just in case. Didn’t want to die a horrible death, spiraling into the trans-Atlantic oceans just because my iPad was on, did we?
I leaned back into my seat, thinking of the new house I was moving into with... Jennette? Yeah, that was her name. I didn’t need a roommate, of course, but I loathed the thought of being entirely alone. Breaking myself from my thoughts, I noticed a man, well, boy-kid thing, he only looked about nineteen walking down the aisle and I knew right then this kid had E4. I hoped he wasn’t weird. Or, weirder than I was, at least.
Upon seeing me in my seat, he broke into a smile. Why, I’m not sure, but he did. “Hi,” the blond said. “Name’s Dean. Yours?” He didn’t sound like the hicks from around here. He sounded like he was from the West coast.
“I’m Vic,” I told him. My actual name was Victoria Blair Walters, but I preferred just Vic. It was simple. He looked at me weird for a second before recovering and proceeding to try to flirt with me.
“So, where are you headed? Heaven’s not going to be happy with an angel running around earth,” he smiled, winking at me.
I laughed, not because he was funny, well, he was funny, but I wasn’t laughing at his joke. I was laughing at how old that pick-up line was. Gaining back my composure, I told him, “I’m headed to London.”
“But you sound like you’re from the south. Why’re you going to London?”
“To live there,” I informed. “Why are you going there?”
He cleared his throat before saying, “To shoot a movie. I’m famous, you know. Wait, I know you...”
I raised my eyebrow. I didn’t really watch TV, but if he was a singer or something, I would probably know him straight off. But, he was an actor, I guess. How did he know me? “Is that so? What are you working on?”
He straightened his back, trying to be taller than I was. I couldn’t help but feel bad for him; I was 5’7”-ish and I had gotten used to the fact that I would never be able to wear heels. “A movie. I already told you,” he complained. His tone brightening he said, “There’s no way you would live in London. You’re probably just going there to model, right? No! Wait, you’re the author!”
I sighed. Why was he flirting with me and more importantly, how did I make him stop? “Um, no, I’m not a model. But thanks. And also, did you read my book?”
“It was a best-seller, I was at a bookstore and it had a huge display, so I thought ‘How bad can it be?’ and it turned into a guilty pleasure. I’m a huge fan,” he gushed. It was nice to be recognized in public, although it didn’t happen often because I looked like a goddess in the tiny picture in the back of the book and, well, like me in real life.
“Really? Thank you, I love you,” I said. And I meant it, too.
“Can you sign my copy?” he asked, rummaging through his bag. He had a copy on him? He must really love the book.
“I would love to, do you have a pen?”
He nodded, digging deeper into his backpack. As he did so, I felt the plane taking off, leaning everyone back in their seats. The ‘fasten seat-belts’ sign glowed and dinged, reminding me to actually click the buckle. Moments later, a female’s voice came on, telling us that we could turn our phones back on and thank you for choosing Delta airlines. Dean looked back at me, holding out a sharpie and his paperback. “Um, the inside of the cover, if you would,” he requested. Without any hesitation, I produced a paragraph and my signature, handing back to him and slipped my ear buds in and gazed out the window, searching for my family in the parking lot. There they were, waving goodbye to me. I sent them a small wave back, doubting they would see it. It didn’t look like they did.
Soon enough, we were above the clouds, and I was jamming out to Pandora, courtesy of the free wifi the plane provided. I felt myself drifting off, but I had been up until one AM last night, so I figured I deserved a nap.
“Hey,” the blond boy said, shaking me awake. I nodded to him, as a sort of thanks, I suppose. I grabbed my bag and headed to luggage. Luckily, none of my luggage was lost, assuring me that my nightmares about all my belongings vanishing into a dark abyss was all for naught. Thank God. My cab was already there, so all I had to do was tell the driver where to drop me off.
I gave him the address and in about twenty minutes we were there. The cabby helped me with my bags and there, at six AM, I unlocked the door to my new house.
~*~
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Also, shout out to HannahLuvTheoJ for helping with the title.
Have a good one!