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five

My hands still shook a little when I sat on the rooftop of my garage and waited for Betty. She came with beers in hand, sat across from me on crossed legs. Looked at my face, swollen and red because I’d only stopped crying a half hour ago when I came out of the forest.

The words were there at the tip of my tongue, and I looked into her wide amber eyes. Held my breath for a few moments.

Then…

“I’m leaving.”

The words came from her lips, not mine.

Apparently, she had applied for colleges back in January because her parents had insisted that she needed to keep her options open, see what more she could do out there in the world. She hadn’t told me because she was sure that she was never going to leave here, but she’d sent in the applications to get her parents off her back.

Turned out, two colleges had accepted her—one of them the Thornton School of Music in L.A. That’s why she had chosen to go—living in L.A. had been a dream for her since we were young. Learning to play the violin professionally and get an actual degree was just the cherry on top.

“I didn’t actually think I’d get it,” she told me after half our beers were gone, and after we hugged and cried and hugged some more.

“Of course, you would. They’re smart fuckers to have accepted you. You’re going to kick ass, babe.” I touched my can to hers, though neither of us drank anymore. We just lay down on the rooftop and watched the clouds in the sky that sometimes moved and allowed us a glimpse of the stars they hid.

“I know, I know,” she said. “And it’s not that far.”

My stomach fell then, and this time, the words, “I’m leaving,” came out of my lips.

“I know,” Betty said, surprising me. “I’ve known for a while now.”

“You have?” Because I didn’t.

Betty nodded, eyes on the sky. “I want you to come to L.A. with me, Nil.”

“I’m actually going to New York.” Not for any apparent reason, but because it was New York City and there was work for everyone and I could find opportunities there that I wouldn’t anywhere else. I had my own college tuition money that Mom had left for both me and Fi when we were born—her dad had been an alcoholic, abusive bastard, but he’d had a few properties to his name. When he died, Mom sold everything and created separate funds for all of us, which was basically how we’d been able to survive and live as comfortably as we did. She took care of us when she was alive, then made sure we were taken care of after her death, too.

God, I missed her so much it was painful.

I planned to leave Dad money from my own account to pay for the mess I’d caused, and I was going to use as little as possible to start my new life away. The plan was to settle in New York City, work for a year anywhere I could, and search for a career path that I liked so that then I could go to college and get a degree myself.

This part Dad would like, I thought. This part Mom would have liked very much, too.

Though I didn’t. Not if I had to leave home behind.

“But I want you to consider L.A. next,” Betty said. “Go to the Big Apple. Give it a couple months. And if you don’t like it, you move in with me in L.A. come September. How’s that sound?”

I didn’t even need to think about it.

“That sounds like a pretty good plan,” I admitted, especially since I wouldn’t be alone if I was with Betty. And I couldn’t hurt Betty in a place where nobody knew who I was, and nobody in the streets would ever call me cuckoo again.

I vowed right then and there to the stars that I could only see for a moment before a cloud hid them away, that I was never going to tell anybody what had happened in that meadow or what I could do when I was alone in my room. No matter if it was real or not, I was never going to tell another soul.

That way nobody was ever going to make fun of me again or ruin the lives of those I cared about.

“Then it’s a deal,” Betty said.

This time, when we touched our cans, we took a good long sip.

* * *

I didn’t go to school the next day.

Pieces of my memory of that morning are still missing to this day because I had never felt more uncomfortable and overwhelmed and sad and guilty—and probably every bad feeling that exists. Because I went downstairs and I made pancakes, and I couldn’t even tell you how they tasted, if I forgot to add something, which I probably did. But I ate with Fi and Dad, and when we were done, I told them that I’d decided to leave. That I was going to pay for all the damage I’d done, and I was going to fly from Portland to New York that very night. My flight left at one in the morning, and I’d already booked the ticket.

I’d also booked a room at a nice motel until I found a permanent place and a job. Yes, I’d been up all night. I had lists and I had maps—all of these things I’d been gathering for months without ever admitting to myself why. Just to have them, I would say any time I saved videos on how to get your first job, or how to manage time when you needed to, or how to choose a safe neighborhood, or how to pick ideal roommates—how to everything.

Just in case I ever need them.

Now I had a good list of places to start, and yes, it was scary as fuck and I could barely breathe at the thought of being in a completely new place all by myself with only my own thoughts to keep me company, but I would be okay, I said.

As long as I had their blessing.

I wasn’t really sure what happened after, just that Fi didn’t cry. It was worse because I knew she would be crying when she was alone, and Dad got even paler than he had been the night before when that man waved that gun in front of his face. He said something along the lines of you’re old enough to make that decision now, and I can’t stop you, and you should take more time to think about it.

I appreciated him saying that. I really did.

I just wished he had actually meant it.

Either way, he left when Fi did for school, and he didn’t tell me where he went. He didn’t come home the whole day, though. And I was all alone to pack. To cry. To get myself under control.

Still, an hour before Fiona came back, I realized I still needed to gather courage before I could face her again, so I went to the only place that still felt like home in this town—the cemetery.

There, I sat in front of my mom’s grave, and I didn’t move for a long time.