This story is a little different to what I normally write for a few reasons:
One, it's set in Canada (both in a small town on Manitoulin Island and in Halifax, Nova Scotia), and it was super exciting to write as a Canadian who is used to basing her stories in the United States.
Two, it was created because I was asked to pitch a TV concept to CBC (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation) and I thought the idea of a set of twins finally pulling apart from one another was an interesting concept to explore.
Three, Near or Far was selected as one of the top 10 pitches given to CBC, and one of these concepts will be chosen for adaptation into a TV show for CBC Gem (the company's streaming service).
It's crazy to even think I had the opportunity to pitch to CBC, let alone be one of the ten finalists, and I'm so thrilled you guys get a chance to read about Sadie and Lauren's journey, as I know you'll be able to relate to the situations they face in one way or another! So, for now, happy reading and wish me luck!
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S A D I E
It's been said the years spent at university are the best years of a person's life. Where you gain the knowledge and experience needed to step into your dream career. Where you find your independence, form lifelong friendships, and discover more about yourself than at any other point in your life.
But I didn't believe it.
In high school, I'd been an average student and couldn't imagine spending another four years in a classroom. I learned best by doing, not by listening, and the minute I'd been accepted to the apprenticeship program at a local garage, I knew that's what I was meant to be doing.
I didn't need to leave Manitoulin Island to find out who I was, especially knowing my family was here and most of my friends were sticking around.
My twin sister, Lauren, however, was not. A social butterfly in our small town, she was ready for a change, and had surprised everyone when she'd announced she was heading to the east coast for her freshman year. To Dalhousie. And while I was happy for her—truly I was—I also couldn't imagine living without her.
Yet soon enough I would be.
And even after last night, when my parents had gathered all our friends and neighbours into the empty barn at the back of our property for Lauren's official going away party, I couldn't seem to process it. I'd spent most of the night keeping to the sidelines, plastering a smile on my face whenever someone approached me, and overall, had managed to avoid saying goodbye to my twin.
Because if I didn't say it, somehow, I thought I could trick myself into believing it wasn't happening. That Lauren was staying.
Though in my head and my heart, I knew she was leaving.
So, when morning had come, I'd gotten up with the sun and had headed for the stables before anyone could notice I was gone. After tossing and turning most of the night, I needed to clear my head, and wanting to prolong my goodbye a little longer, I saddled up my horse and headed for the water.
With the sun kissing my skin and the familiar lake breeze on my face, I felt like I could finally breathe again. This was what home was. Trotting through the dew-drenched grass in the early morning and hearing the choppy waves rolling onto shore. Swatting the mosquitoes away while admiring the way the bees migrated to the dandelions. The grasshoppers. The birds overhead. Even the mixed smell of soil, fresh air, and manure—which, admittedly, took some getting used to.
I couldn't fathom leaving this all behind for big-city life, but evidently, Lauren could.
No longer able to avoid the inevitable, I raked my hands through my horse's mane. "Let's go buddy," I said, taking in the view of Lake Huron one more time before steering her back towards the stable. I'd been out here for nearly three hours and it was time to face the music. "It's time to say goodbye."
The walk back from the stable erased any comfort I'd managed to capture, replaced by an overbearing weight in my chest, getting heavier and heavier the closer I came to the farm house where we'd lived for the last eighteen years. And when the gravel driveway came into view, with Lauren's slightly rusted pickup packed to the brim with her belongings, I exhaled, slowing my steps as I approached.
Beneath my shoes, rocks rattled, and my parents quickly finished with their goodbyes, each hugging Lauren one last time before heading towards the porch. Leaving the two of us alone.
"So," I said, sticking my hands in the front pockets of my jean shorts, "this is it?"
I could feel my eyes well with tears when the corner of Lauren's mouth twitched upwards, but I did my best to keep them at bay as she nodded. "This is it."
"Well, then—" I cleared my throat. "—call me when you get there, or when you stop for the night, or whenever you feel like it."
"You sound like mom," she mused, though the emotion floating in her eyes made me realize I wasn't the only one this was hard for. Eight minutes older, she'd always been the one watching over me, and now her job was finished. The only person she had to take care of from this day on was herself. "But I promise I will." Eyeing me carefully, she continued. "Are you going to be okay?"
"I'll be fine. Marcie, Lily, and Tia are still here, and I'll be starting my apprenticeship in a little over two weeks, so I'll be keeping busy—"
"But you won't have me," Lauren interjected slowly.
"No... I won't."
Unable to hold myself back any longer, I threw my arms around her, hugging her tightly and silently wishing she wouldn't leave. "I'm going to miss you."
"I'm going to miss you, too." Pulling back, she wiped the tears from my cheeks. "But I know you'll kill it at the garage. After all, you've been working on the tractors with dad for years, how could you not?"
A weak laugh escaped me. "And you're going to have the best time at university. So, go." I stepped back, crossing my arms over my chest as I nodded towards her truck. "Just don't forget about me."
"As if I ever would."
After one more goodbye, I was left standing alone, watching as her truck rolled out of the driveway, bringing Lauren down the long country road to the next chapter of her life.
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L A U R E N
After multiple rest stops, a night in Quebec, and over twenty hours of driving, I finally pulled into the student parking lot outside the residence that would be my home for the next eight months. Mine, as well as hundreds of other students. None of whom I knew; the notion of the unknown bringing anticipation to my chest.
Meeting new people, experiencing new things, living on my own—Dalhousie had everything my small hometown couldn't offer me.
Pulling out my cell, I took a selfie with the building behind me before sending it to Sadie, along with a message telling her I'd call her tonight after I'd unpacked.
Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I followed the signs posted around the courtyard to freshmen registration, which was a lot busier than I'd expected. Nearly twenty minutes passed before I reached the front of the line, where I was handed an orientation package, my student ID, and keys to my room.
Which, due of the luck of the housing draw, was a highly coveted single room. And while it was a bit cramped—with nothing more than a single bed, a desk, and a dresser occupying the space—it boasted the most amazing view. The small window showcased old brick buildings scattered between the trees, people milling around campus, and far behind it all, the shores that touched the ocean.
It was leaps and bounds more impressive than the virtual tours and photographs—better than I ever could've imagined—and I felt the prick of excitement knowing I'd soon get to explore it all.
But first, I had to unpack.
Up and down the stairs I trekked, carrying one box at a time in an effort to avoid the crowded elevators, and by the time I placed the last of my things in the corner of the room, every surface was covered.
And I was out of breath.
"Knock, knock."
Turning, I ignored the fact I looked a mess and smiled at the girl standing in the open doorway with dark hair tinged purple and oversized glasses. "Hey," I said. "Are you on this floor, too?"
She nodded. "Two doors down in 604. I'm Maya."
"Lauren."
"Did you just get here?" she asked, looking at the array of unopened boxes behind me.
"Yeah, a little more than an hour ago. What about you?"
"Early this morning, so I've pretty much dealt with my version of all this already." Her lips quirked as she hooked her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing down the hall. "But if you find some free time later tonight, someone got word of a party a couple floors down. It'll probably be a bit crowded, but a few people here are of age, so there shouldn't be any trouble getting booze."
I laughed. "As long as it's not in an old barn with alcohol someone managed to con off their parents, I'm there."
"Small town girl?"
My lips curved. "How'd you guess?"
"Let's call it intuition," she mused, backing into the hall. "Come to my room around ten and we can check it out together."
In the past eighteen years, I could count on one hand the number of people I'd met who I hadn't known since I was in diapers. It'd always been familiar faces and town gossip back home, but this—the last-minute plans and new friends—was exactly what I'd hoped to find by moving away.
"I'll be there."