Page 38 of Cerulean Truth
"Don’t worry about it, I’ll arrange everything for you on my side of things, you focus on your arrangements there," James assured me.
"Okay…thank you…again," I stammered.
"No problem. I'll call you back next week, take care," James said before ending the call.
I kept the phone in my hand after he hung up. Even in delivering me bad news, he had managed to be kind of dreamy. His voice had soothed me even in bringing me dreadful news. I closed my eyes for a moment, lost in memories of James, his hand delicately brushing away strands of hair from my face. The desire to experience the sensation of kissing him lingered in my thoughts.
"Geez, Emma, get a grip!" I groaned, shaking off the romantic reverie. I retrieved my notebook and began listing everything I needed to do to orchestrate a clean break from my current life.Where on earth should I even begin?
My first order of business was to terminate my internship, which instilled some hesitation on my part.
With all the required credits in my pocket, theoretically, I could bypass the remaining law school classes and have my degree sent over by mail. Terminating the internship, however, was a more definitive move—like a breakup—albeit one with fewer tears and more paperwork.
Last but certainly least, I had to figure out how to reveal my grand escape to friends and extended family. I placed my trust in the parental unit to handle the surely exhilarating discussions with the extended clan, but I needed a game plan for my friends, or, in more accurate terms, my limited collection of social acquaintances.
My mind couldn't help but drift to dear Lisa, who I imagined would throw an Oscar-worthy fit. The rest of the gang were mostly her loyal subjects, not exactly my devoted fan club, so I doubted they'd lose any sleep over it.
Other than Lisa, the only person I've ever managed to forge a genuine, lasting friendship with was Martin. But it’d been so long since we crossed paths, we might’ve needed a history book to reminisce about our encounters.
I remembered Martin with great fondness though; the handsome African-American boy with big, expressive brown eyes. During our primary school years, he had valiantly shielded me from the bullies when my female parts decided to grow a bit earlier than expected, for which I was eternally grateful. For the shielding I mean, not for the early growths.
It saddened me to realize I had lost touch with him for so long, but on the bright side, it meant one less person I had to deceive about my “magical” departure.
A weekafter the phone call with James, I had done most of it.
Telling my parents I had an academic prospection which would take me a year abroad with a special professor, was, of course, a shining beacon of truth and honesty.
I explained I couldn't divulge many details because it was all part of a top-secret case, and they needed to respect my professional secrecy. Not only did they not utter a single roar of indignation, they dared to commit the inexcusable crime of hugging me in response and expressing their pride. I felt like shit.
Still clinging to a glimmer of hope, even though deep down I knew better, I figured a year of training might suffice for me to return. After all, all I needed to do was gain control over my powers, become non-threatening, and then, of course, the welcome mat would be rolled out for my triumphant return.
So, as planned, I concocted a bullshit story for Lisa’s disciples, explaining I was embarking on a year abroad. They were all very nice about it, but lying to Lisa was a whole different story.
She was pissed with a huge P for not letting her know sooner I planned to leave the country, and she didn’t believe me when I told her it was a recent development. Thanks to my impeccable guilt display which Lisa's radar could detect from a mile away, she grew convinced I was lying and the whole thing blew up.
I didn’t want to leave on that note but she was stubborn and Iwasactually lying, so there wasn’t much I could do to fix it. I felt like shit. Again.
Then I had to actually pack up my life. I had no idea where I would live or how and what I had to bring. Did I only needclothes? Or did I have to properly move furniture with a moving van and everything?
So a few days before the actual move, I bravely put on my big girl pants and graced James with another call.
He answered the phone with a simple hello but his voice had my stomach somersaulting a few times.
"Um, hi James, it’s Emma… Emma Thompson, not the actress."
He snorted sarcastically. "Hi Emma, yeah, wasn’t really expecting a call from the other one."
"So yeah, sorry for bothering you but I was trying to pack and found myself wondering what to bring. And then I sort of realized I don’t even know where I am going to live, and I know you are arranging all of it, but I was hoping maybe you could give me some information?" Why was I rambling again?
"Emma, calm down. I found you a private furnished dorm at the Universitas. I figured, as you would probably spend most of your time there, it would be more practical to live there as well. You are of course allowed to change your living arrangements on arrival but?—"
I hurried my answers, as not to bother him too long. "No no, a furnished dorm is perfect. It means I don’t have to move a lot of stuff. Which is actually kind of great, thanks!"
"Okay, well, I will come pick you up next Tuesday morning."
I hesitated. "Um…youwould come pick me up?"
He paused, then responded in an icier tone. "Yes, is that a problem?"
