Page 121 of The One
This time, we were headed to the airport, and I didn’t have that hope.
I had given up on hope.
Fuck hope.
The car came to a stop outside of Departures. Both front doors opened, and I took that as my cue to get out. I put the straps of my backpack on my shoulders and stepped onto the curb. My parents joined me, their faces looking so different as I studied each one.
My dad, always a thin man, had hollow cheeks and a gaunt neck. Mom looked like she hadn’t slept in a year; the bags under her eyes were turning dark, and her eyes were rimmed in red.
“Your passport,” Dad said as he handed me the small navy leather-bound booklet. “And here’s enough cash for at least a week or two. I didn’t have time to get it converted. Use your credit card. This is just for incidentals.”
I shoved the hundreds into my pocket. “Where am I even going?”
“I pulled a few strings and got you into a school in Spain,” he said. “You’ll be starting classes in two months. A driver will be at the airport, holding a sign with your name on it. He’ll take you to your apartment.”
“My apartment?” I whispered.
I remembered when we’d talked about this.
USC was off the table.
I couldn’t go there … with him.
But I wanted school. I needed the schedule and routine and to stay busy. My parents supported that decision.
Different states were thrown out during that conversation. All possible options. I told them I wanted to go as far away as I could and I wanted to go right now. I didn’t want to wait until classes started. I needed to escape everything that reminded me of Pen.
My parents didn’t want me to leave so soon. They’d lost one daughter; they weren’t ready to say goodbye to another.
But I’d begged.
I needed to be alone with my grief.
I couldn’t hear Mom cry another tear. I couldn’t hear Dad pace the kitchen all night, unable to sleep.
If Dad had told me where he was sending me—which he probably had—it hadn’t registered.
I was as empty now as I had been when I rushed into the hospital and was told she was no longer breathing.
Nothing was sticking.
I was a slick, oily slide, and everything that came in rolled right off me.
“Do I have clothes?” I asked.
“We’ll ship them to you, honey.” Mom tucked some hair behind my ear. “This all happened a little fast, and I didn’t want you to have to worry about lugging around suitcases. You have enough in your backpack for a couple of days, and there’s laundry in your apartment if you need to wash what you have.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“We’re going to miss you.” Mom’s voice cracked. Tears welled in her eyes.
I’d never seen my family cry more in the last I didn’t know how many days than I had in my whole life.
“I’ll miss you,” I replied.
Arms were around me. The scent of Mom was so off; there were hints of wine and even smoke, something she’d quit when I was a kid. The hug grew stronger when Dad joined us, his chin resting on top of my head. He hadn’t shaved in a while, and the whiskers stabbed through my hair and into my skull.
I didn’t pull away.
