On The Way Home
1214 Words
The next day, Leslie and I have some one on one time when the boys go out to the store to buy a new game. Yeah, we couldn't talk them out of it, so we let the kids have their joy.
It gives me the opportunity to talk about how life has been pestering me since I moved to Connecticut. Well, I tell her about the troubles Hunter and I are having.
She tells me that she understands my point of view, but that I also have to try to understand his. "Look, you all did a bunch of things and fought so hard to be together. And now you're barely spending any time with each other," she tells me.
I nod my head, frustrated because she's not telling me anything new. "Yeah, I know that. I'm trying to get advice on how to change that. Or at least make him a little happier when we're together. I can't tear myself in half," I complain.
My best friend sighs and puts her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry to say this, but you'll have to give up something. Either the internship, or that extra job at the café," she voices her opinion.
I blink in surprise, and in hurt. "What do you mean give up something? I need that internship for my future. It's what will land me a job as a reporter eventually. And the café pays me such good money that I'd be stupid to give up that job," I protest, feeling almost a little offended by her suggestion.
She sighs, shaking her head at me. "If you don't, you'll might have to give up your relationship," she tells me, making me freeze. Did she really just say that to my face? "I'm sorry, Pez, I know I'm being harsh. But that's just how it is."
I don’t know what to say to that. Because the truth is, her words hit home. And they hit it hard. She just gave me a hard lemon to swallow. Or chew on. Because there’s no way I can make anything useful or tasteful out of it. It’s not meant for a lemonade. Or a lemon meringue pie. Not that I have any clue how to make that.
“Look, forget I said anything, okay? I’m sorry. I’m being self-righteous and a know-it-all. It’s none of my business. Just … I’m sure all you need is some more time together, okay?” she tries to assure me. But the damage is already done.
I nod my head, not wanting to talk about this anymore. It’s making my insides feel like they’re being squished by someone. “Yeah, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Just had to vent to someone a little,” I mumble, deciding not to mention this again.
My best friend clearly feels so bad about this that she tries to make it up to me for the entire day. It even makes Aiden ask her why she’s acting so weird, but neither of us actually admits what this is about.
We keep the boys company in my brother’s room, literally watching them play video games, while we paint each other’s nails. And yeah, that’s still a thing. No matter how old we are. It’s almost like a sleepover tradition. Except we’re doing it in the middle of the day.
We’re all leaving the next day, and I’m trying to keep an open mind about going back to Connecticut. But call it fear, a gut feeling or an ominous feeling, I don’t feel so good about it. I’m terrified of the future. My best friend made sure of that.
I know she didn’t mean anything bad when she warned me I’ll have to give something up in order to save my relationship, but it’s really a hard pill to swallow. How am I supposed to give up something that I need? Something that’s bringing us enough money to live a normal life?
I really don’t want to be the person who has to look at every penny. We’re lucky enough that my parents are providing part of the rent, I don’t want to give them a feeling that we’re using them. It’s just not who I am.
Before we have to go to the airport on Sunday, we visit my grandma for lunch. It’s a necessary stop, and I wouldn’t change it for the life of me. Even if it means that we almost miss our flight. We have to basically sprint down the terminal and do some persuading to be let on the plane.
As we finally find ourselves on it, I breathe out in relief. Great. That means I won’t miss a lesson tomorrow. Or my job in the afternoon. It’s all good. I’ll get to continue my life. And try not to make as many mistakes as I have until now.
Hunter is unusually quiet on the flight home. I predict he’s just tired, but after a while, it just doesn’t sit with me. I have to ask him what this is about. I grab his hand to get his attention, and he turns his head towards me immediately.
“What’s up?” he asks, playing with my fingers as he stares at me in expectation. I offer him a small smile, trying not to seem as terrified as I’m feeling.
“Nothing, I just … I’m wondering what you’re thinking about,” I admit, making him blink in surprise. Then, he suddenly looks like he’s been busted. He shakes his head, sighing.
“Not much … Just that things will probably fall into old tracks now,” he admits, making me stiffen. Of course, he’s thinking about that. I shake my head immediately, already starting to defend myself.
“No. No, I’ll try to make this work. I’ll try to be better. I can sleep less. I’ll be sleep deprived, sure, but at least we’ll get to spend time together,” I assure him, making him offer me a sad smile. He pushes my hair out of my face.
“Don’t stress, okay? I know you’re doing your best. You need to rest, too. We’ll manage. Don’t worry about it,” he reassures me, making me nod in a desperate way. I can’t help myself. I really want us to stay together.
“I’m going to do everything in my power to make this work, do you hear me? To make us work,” I declare. But I clearly say too much, because my voice gets taken over by emotions. I can’t hide the trembling in it as I’m finishing the sentence.
He frowns as he realizes I’m being panicky and pulls me closer, lowering the armrest before doing so. “Hey, hey. Don’t worry about it, we’re fine. We’re okay, baby. I’m not going anywhere, okay? We can make this work,” he assures me. I nod resting my head on his shoulder, while he rests his head on mine.
“I love you, Hunter,” I say after a few moments of silence. After I finally manage to calm down. His embrace tends to have this kind of effect on me.
“I love you, too, Perrie. More than you’ll ever know,” he murmurs into my hair.
- Writer
