Two Days With You

It’s been 27 days since I found out I have to move out of my house. I have to move away from everything I’ve ever known. My father has lost his job again, this is the 8th time. I usually don’t get too bothered by it, moving from school to school in Illinois, but this time is different. This time I have to move to a new state. Florida to be exact. 

We leave in 2 days for his new job as a hotel manager. I don’t understand what that job entails, but what I do know is I'm not ready. Even when I had to move around Illinois I was able to keep a few friends. Now it’s all going to be gone, poof, vanished.

 My mom’s making me finish packing up my room today. I’m blasting music through my tiny speaker, sorting through the remains of my closet, deciding what to pack for the hotel and what to box up. I look through the clothes that are practically useless for me at this point. The fact that I'll have to live in 90-degree weather fills me with a wave of overwhelming anger. I feel like I have no control over my own life, like I’m on a roller coaster with no end in sight.

As I fold and sort through clothes, I think of my friend Sierra. I look at the pile I’ve dedicated to leaving for her, an unwelcome reminder of the distance to come. She’s supposed to be here to pick me up soon. We’ve barely talked since I found out; I haven’t been able to face her and tell her the truth. I fold some sweatshirts that I can’t bear to leave, even if I know I might never use them. 

I hear her honk her horn, letting me know she’s here. I go and run to her car, getting inside in a rush. I take a breath and force the words out of my mouth. “Sierra. I have something serious to tell you.” It comes out all wrong. Quiet. Weak. 

“What's up Nat?” she says, looking at me curiously. A smirk tilts across the corners of her lips and I know she thinks I’m joking. God, I can’t crush her spirits like this. I could preserve her feelings and never tell her. I could disappear, leave without a word. But I couldn’t leave her like that. I wish I could never move away and just stay with her forever, but I can't. So I take one last look at her, taking in how happy she looks to see me and to be with me. How she thinks we still have forever ahead of us, but we don’t. 

“My dad got fired again.” The comfortable atmosphere of the car shifts to a sudden intensity as she turns the music down. A pause.

“Okay, so you're moving like an hour away again?”

Anger sparks in me that she thinks this isn’t a huge deal, but then again it's never been a big deal, so why would she think that? This has been our normal since we were little. Me having to move away into new houses and apartments, always jumping around. Living with whatever relative or friend we could find that would take us. We were always able to keep up with wherever my family moved. We always found a way to see each other. I didn’t know if this time would be the same. If our friendship was strong enough.

“No, Sierra, it’s bad this time. Like really bad.”

Sierra and I discussed everything I hadn’t caught her up on, well almost everything. I told her how my dad lost his previous job a few weeks ago because he missed too many days. About how he’s been looking for a new job but I didn’t think to bring it up because it was our normal. How finding out I had to leave Illinois was such a shock to me. We cried and laughed while eating as much as we could afford. Money doesn’t matter when your time is limited with your best friend. I now only have $20.15 to my name, but I don’t even care anymore. 

Nothing seems to matter to me anymore; life is feeling too real. I’m losing count of the last time I showered. It's Tuesday now and I’m pretty sure my last one was on Friday. My room would probably be a mess right now if I even had anything in it, but I don’t. Our previous few moves were more of a shock to me when I actually had time to have personal belongings in them. But at this point, it was just another room. I moved so much that I’ve learned to pack my life into a few select boxes, barely even owning decorations because there's no reason to decorate if I’m going to move right after anyways. 

—---------

One day left till I move. I promised Natalie I would spend the day with her, I already feel the sadness seeping in. Knowing that we have such little time left till I can’t see her anymore. As excited as I am to see her, I'm also dreading it. I can already tell it’ll be hard to keep the conversation light and happy; it’s hard to not focus on the bad when it’s all that consumes you. Darkening the air around you constantly, bringing others down because you can’t ignore the problem.  

I get pulled away from my thoughts for a second when I see her enter the room. Her eyes are puffy and red. She's been crying. I get off my bed and run to her, pulling her into a warm, tight embrace. We’re both scared to let go, scared our friendship will slip through the space between us if we create any. 

She finally pulls away from what feels like an eternity of sorrow. 

“You ready to get this day started,” she says between sniffles. 

I nod and then we’re off. She takes my hand and drags me back into my bed. We lay there and watch comedy movies until it’s dinner time. I soak in the presence of her next to me, knowing it will feel like a lifetime before I get to feel it again. We decided to go out and get fast food for dinner since there was barely any food left in my house. We’re blasting our favorite songs in the car, singing every word until our throats go dry. My mom decided to stop grocery shopping last week and use up whatever ingredients we had left. Now all that remains is rice, beans, and a can of corn. 

I got a cheeseburger and some fries, it was $7.89, and now I’m left with $12.26. Sierra somehow convinces me to split an ice cream cone with her once we finish our meals. After buying that, I’m down to $9.06. She’s worth it though. Ice cream is her favorite thing and I want her to remember me with the good memories. 

We end up just driving around our town blasting music. It might not compare to Downtown Chicago, but it's enough for tonight. We roll down the windows and I love the freeing feeling of the wind in my hair. I don’t care that I’ll look like a mess tomorrow. I know it won’t matter anyways, nothing will after I leave. I think I’ll miss these kinds of nights the most. I turn my head to look at Sierra, I see tears streaming down her face while she's smiling wide, and at that moment I know she feels the same as I do. Tonight we tried not to think about the future and what it would hold for either of us. But we can't help it when you are losing a part of yourself, a piece of your heart amid a move.

It’s around 11 or 12 now, I don’t know, I’ve lost track of time. We’ve been sitting at an abandoned playground for a while now. We’re sitting on a swing set, slowly going back and forth.  I’m still not ready for the night to end but I know it must at some point.  All good things must come to an end. The cheesiest sayings sometimes are the truest.

“I need to get home. I have a big day tomorrow.” The moving van will be there for us to transfer all of our belongings into, ready for the big day that it awaits.

“I know,” she responds so softly I almost don’t hear her, but I do, so I stay longer for her. Neither of us gets off the swings; we just sit there hearing the creaks of our movements. It’s almost 1 am by the time she finally drives me home. I know my parents won’t care. They feel bad that this was sprung on me. I stumble through my house, a house that feels too empty now. Everything we own is in boxes. As I walk into my room, I don’t even bother to turn off what is left of my lights or to change my clothes, I just fall onto my bed drifting quickly into a deep slumber. 

—---------

The cold morning sun seeps through my curtainless room, waking me to my last day here. I pat around my bed, searching for my phone. Once I find it I see that I didn’t even charge it and that it’s dead. I go to plug it in and get a glance at all the things my parents have removed from my room. I no longer have a bedside table, or my favorite bean bag chair Sierra and I used to sit on when we would gossip about boys at school. I realize my phone has to charge on the ground for the first time since I originally moved here. I realize my life will never consist of this room, these people, or this city ever again. 

I groggily start to make my way out of bed and into my kitchen. 

“Hi sleepy head, what time did you get in last night?” my mom asks me with a little too much excitement for the day in her voice for my liking. How is she so optimistic about this move? Surely she has to be sad to leave as well, at least I thought she would be. She’s lived here longer than I have. I always knew my mom had craved the life of a beach girl, but I guess I thought our life here meant more to her than her fantasies of living somewhere hot.  

“I’m not sure. Late. What time is it?” 

“It’s already 9, the truck will be here in about an hour. I thought we could go grab some breakfast and coffee together before it comes.” 

I agree, knowing that it’ll probably be the only thing I get to eat until dinner. I go back and change into the clothes I left unpacked for today. I think about how I strangely don’t feel too sad as I pull my shirt over my head. I think it all just might feel too surreal for me. Or perhaps I’ve gone numb. I’m not sure. 

When we pulled back into my driveway the moving truck was already parked on the street, my dad started moving boxes out of the garage and near the truck so it could all go in. I notice that he’s managed to gather a few people from the neighborhood to help us carry everything, and it’s then I realize I don't know them. I guess I’ve moved so much that I never bothered to get close to my neighbors anymore. 

After a painstakingly full day of trips back and forth between the truck and my house, we’re finally done. We had to pack and unpack the truck 3 different times to make things fit. It’s already 7 pm and I’m exhausted. Sierra's family and I have decided to go get food together for our last night here, their treat. We decided to meet up at 8:00 pm for Chinese food and a movie at their house. 

It was a full night of laughter and tears, and they agreed to say one last goodbye to us tomorrow morning before we left. Seeing how my family acts around them makes me even madder that they agreed to leave in the first place. They act like we have nothing to lose by moving, how it’s an opportunity for new friends. But this was all I needed. I try to not focus on that because I want my last memory with them to be happy. 

We get home at around midnight. My parents go to sleep immediately. I try my best to sleep, because I know I won’t be getting it for the next couple of weeks, but I can’t. I find myself staring at the familiar walls of my room, taking in every little detail I didn’t appreciate before. The holes in the wall where I pinned up pictures of Sierra and I, the broken string of the ceiling fan that rattled all night, the scent of me, of my life. I have to play some music to silence my thoughts, and I finally start to fall asleep. 

The day has finally come. The day I leave my life behind. We had to pack our beds into the truck yesterday so we were all sleeping on sleeping bags. I wake up with a stiff back from the hard floor, I check my phone and it’s almost 7:15 am, I have multiple messages from Sierra. 

Wake up!

Are you awake yet??

Missed call

Missed call

I’m coming over early to pick you up for coffee whether you’re up or not

I smile at my phone and get off the hard cold floor. I didn’t leave out any clothes for me to change into today for the trip to Florida so I just go brush my teeth. She pulls up to my house at 7:20 am on the dot and honks her horn, without a care for the other sleeping people on my street. I make sure to grab my wallet as I run out the door and to her car. 

She pulls out and I turn the music on, not wanting to talk about what’s to come yet. I start to doubt whether we need coffee as we sing and dance our hearts out for the last time. Her car is still cool from the cold Illinois night, but I soak the last cold morning I’m going to get in. We get to Starbucks. Of course she chooses the most expensive place. She turns down the volume so I can hear her speak to me. 

“Do you want to just go through the drive-through and talk in here?”

“Yeah, that would be nice. We don’t have too long anyways.” 

“What time do you leave?” she asks, but she won't look at me directly.

“8 o'clock.”

She doesn’t say another word until we order our drinks. We do two separate orders, mine ends up being $7.02, I ordered a small vanilla iced latte. I don’t see a point in keeping what's left of the money, $2.04, so I just put it in the tip jar. I know it might sound stupid, but I tell myself that maybe that means a part of me will always be here. 

We drink our coffees and drive around again, it’s all we’ve seemed to do with our remaining time the past few days, but I wouldn't have any other way. It’s something we’ve always loved to do together. At ten to eight, we start heading back to my house, if I can even call it that anymore. 

When we pull in, my parents are giving the key to the landlord while her parents stand by the car waiting to say goodbye. Sierra and I start saying our goodbyes when I remember I have something to give her. I go run to the car and grab a plastic bag, full of my clothes that I knew she loved. I reached out to give her the bag. 

“Here, something to remember me by,”  I say, as tears start rolling out of my eyes. She takes the bag out of my hand and looks inside. When she sees the contents of it, she pulls me in for another embrace. We’re both hysterically sobbing. Our parents are saying their quick goodbyes, the stereotypical “hope to see you soon” and empty promises to keep in touch, that you know will never be kept. 

“You act like you’re dying,” Sierra says, her voice breaking slightly. I know she feels the same way; she’s just trying to make me feel better. “We’re going to see each other again, ok? I promise. And we have to call every day.” I nod because I can’t form any words. I’m scared her words are going to turn out just as empty as our parents. 

We all start to pile in the car for the long trip that’s ahead of us. We say one last goodbye through our rolled-down windows. I see Sierra wave at me as we start to drive away while she cries even more. I continue to stare at her, at my life behind her, until she turns into a tiny speck in the distance. We turn the corner and she’s gone. I feel so worn out from crying that nothing will come out anymore. It's almost like I am so numb from the pain of these last couple of days that I can't feel emotions like I did before I found out we were leaving.

There’s a part of me that knows Illinois will always have a spot in my heart and is my real home. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get rid of that feeling.