I generally love travelling, but not this time. As I sit by the aeroplane window, my backpack pressed against my leg, I watch the world outside blur past—rows of houses, trees that have always signalled 'home,' flickering in the early morning light. The smell of all the cardboard packed and the old house I now leave behind still stays with me. Moving to a new place, to a new house, and especially to a new school, feels impossible when the only world you've ever really known is the one you're packing up behind you.
It’s a strange thing, being told to leave your whole life behind and start over. Dad insists this is what Mom would have wanted for us if she were still here.
My mom had cancer, the last stage. I remember sitting beside her on the old blue sofa, her hand tracing circles on my back as she hummed the song she used to sing while baking cookies. Near the end, her voice got so quiet, almost like it was a secret, but she still smiled at me in that soft way, even when she was too weak to hold a mug of tea. As a child, I never understood why she chose death over staying with me. Still, I do now, because one cannot suffer continuously in this world, even if one has a reason. After all, sometimes love is not enough to survive.
My mind drifts back to the place I left behind, replaying the best moments with Dad, Mom, and Jack. Jack’s my brother. We used to be inseparable, but now it feels like there’s a canyon between us. He wasn’t there when I needed him most.
He ran away.
Literally ran away.
We don’t talk much about him because it's a bad memory, and we don’t talk about those kinds of things, I guess.
He left a year after Mom died. He was struggling, so was everyone else, me, dad, mom’s friends, and Nana. She joined her mom shortly after 2 years.
He was depressed. I was too small to understand what was going on. I was 7, and back then, a 7-year-old only understood glitter. Now I guess a 7 year old is a really mature person.
He was 14 when he ran away. At a small age, I know, but all I remember is dad waking up after a hangover and going to his room to find it empty. He thought he would have left for school early. It took him some time to realise that it was summer and that we had no school. He called 911 immediately, but it was too late. He had run away to a far place, and we have no idea.
We do get Christmas cards every year from an unknown person; sure enough, it's him, or I don't know, could be anyone.
As for why we're moving, Dad says we deserve happiness after all we've been through. He wants a fresh start. So here we are, shifting from a small town in Texas to a city in LA.
Honestly, it's not fun. Change is hard. I’m not the type who makes friends easily—I tend to keep to myself, and my own thoughts are usually my best friends.
I'm a bit introverted and often anxious around new people. Oh, and I believe in astrology, if that tells you anything. I'm a Virgo, which might explain why I overthink everything.
My thoughts are interrupted by a hoarse, sexy voice. He even looked sexy. I saw him when I was boarding the flight, the pilot, I mean.
'Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Los Angeles. Local time is 10:20. The temperature outside is 78 degrees Fahrenheit, and the weather is sunny. Please remain seated with your seatbelt fastened and keep the aisle clear until we are parked at the gate. On behalf of Emirates and the crew, we thank you for flying with us.
I groan as my dad, sitting beside me, smiles and looks up at me from his glasses.
"Ready, princess", he asks with a little hesitation in his voice, too, as I smile back at him and nod. He sighs as he takes out his wallet, opens it, and looks at the picture of my mom laughing, with her gorgeous dimples so deep he kisses the picture and closes his eyes.
He says that is how he has a conversation with my mom. I thread my fingers with his as I lean back on the seat and talk with her, too.
I love you with every heartbeat. I take mama, and I miss you, and sometimes I miss your son too. Keep him safe wherever he stays, with whoever he is with, and help me out with my senior year, mama. Lots of kisses.
I open my eyes as I look out the window and smile at the new beginnings it is.
I look at Dad as he gets up, and I sigh. Here we go. I mumble to myself as I help him with the luggage and get down.
We walk to collect our bags.
"Who is picking us up? I look up at him. Are we going by a cab?" I ask Dad as he rolls his eyes at me.
"What was that for the unnecessary attitude?" I furrow my eyebrows at him.
"When I say you should listen to my so-called bullshit talks, I always mean it. I gave you all the information on the plane, but someone here thought Gracie Abrahms or whatever it is that you were listening to is important," he slowly slaps on my head.
"Excuse me, ouch!" I say as I massage the spot where he hit.
"Downy is coming to pick up, and don't make those faces. He is being helpful, and his daughter, Gracie, is accompanying him. Maybe it will get easier for you. You both go to the same school. Maybe if you guys get along, it will be easy for you to communicate in school too, maybe make some new friends, and all you know what I mean, right?"
I groan as he speaks, then walk behind with the trolley full of bags as I sulk.
We stop as he calls Uncle Harris. He is an old mate of Dad, they basically went to the same school and played on the same team. Dad was great at football, apparently the captain of his team.
He moved here after his college finished to pursue whatever he does, and as for his daughter, Gracie, my instincts are not screaming 'great things' about her.
Maybe it's because of that one summer years ago, when she gave me that look at the family barbecue after I accidentally spilled lemonade on her shoes—like I was some annoying bug she couldn't wait to get rid of.
Or maybe it's just the way Dad keeps mentioning how "helpful" Gracie is. Either way, something about her makes me tense up. I can't shake the feeling that seeing her again won't be simple.
My dad smiles up, or more like beams at Uncle Harris as they do a bro hug. His gaze shifts towards me as he smiles.
“That must be the infamous Amara. " Nice to meet you, little one,” he says as he puts his hand on my shoulder and gives me a side hug. I smile, and I hug him back.
“It's nice to meet you, too.”
“Oh, how time flies. You were 6 when I last saw you just before-” he stops. Yeah, just before my mom passed away, just before my life turned upside down. I shake my head, getting those thoughts out of my head.
“It's fine, you can talk about mom,” I say, smiling at him as he kisses my forehead. “You got the courage from your mom. Thank God you have none of his attributes,” he says, flicking my dad’s head.
They both get into a friendly argument about how my dad has better attributes than he does.
That's when my eyes go to a car where our bags are getting in, and there stands a girl my age guiding the guy to keep it properly.
She looks really annoyed with the worker who is putting in the bags. Our eyes meet as she smiles nervously at me and waves her hand. Oh, could she be Gracie? Maybe I don't know. I think that is her.
I smile back at her and wave.
She looks back at the guy, irritated, and rolls her eyes. She says something to the worker, and he responds, which starts an argument. I look back to see my dad, but they are still arguing, so I roll my eyes and walk to them.
“Hi, what's going on here?” I ask Gracie specifically. She smiles and then scrolls at the worker.
“This guy can't put the luggage inside properly, like seriously,” she says, annoyed with him.
“Oh, please, she thinks she is some sort of luggage expert,” the worker says, his face mirroring Gracie's expression.
“Uhm, what's your name if you don't mind?” I ask the worker.
“John” “Johnson”
Both of them say at the same time, and I look at them, really confused. “You know each other?"
“No”. “yes”
They both say it again at the same time. “We go to the same school, you punk dare you say no, I will kick your ass,” Gracie says as she takes out the bag.
Before she could put it down, John or Johnny held it from the opposite side.
“Leave it, I will put it back like it's supposed to.”
“No, you will ruin it” Gracie says, yanking it from him, but he yanks it back.
The bag makes a noise, and trust me, it's not a normal noise, it's like a ‘My ancestor warned me about this” noise.
And before I could stop both of them.
The zipper burst open.
I look at both of them, my mouth open in shock. Both are looking at each other, also shocked.
John looks at me with real embarrassment, followed by Gracie, who looks terrified at what will happen.
A snicker follows from behind as I look at the owner of the voice. It's my dad, and he is laughing.
Could this man ever be serious?
I roll my eyes at him as I look up at him. I couldn't stop smiling at his laugh before I could join him. Another laugh broke out. I look back as John laughs, followed by Gracie. And then I start laughing too.
People start looking at us weirdly to figure out what the hell is wrong with us.
That is our indication to get back inside the car.
…………………………………………
I sigh as I get into bed with my dad after moving all the luggage and the courier boxes into a new house.
"Are you feeling good?" I ask him as I lie next to him.
"Yeah, I have you. I am fine, or rather I will be fine." I kiss his cheeks and get my head on his chest and close my eyes as we both lie there, his hands in my hair. "I love you," I murmured against his chest.
"Excited, he asks, you know, for the new school, new friends and all," he says, a little nervousness in his voice too, because sometimes, okay not sometimes, it's an every time occurrence that I get extreme social anxiety for new places and all.
I shake my head. "Honestly, it's just draining me out to think that I'm going to have to socialise to make friends." I pick at the blanket, twisting the edge between my fingers. "It would have been easier if I had, like, a friend's magnet or something. The moment I walked in, people would just go like, 'Hey Amara, hi Amara.'" I let out a small laugh, but it sounds tired. "Ugh, it's just draining me already. I think I should go to sleep, but I know I won't. Then these thoughts will just keep coming, and I don't want to be annoyed on the first day itself. That would be so bad." I cover my face with my hands for a second. "I have no idea what I'm even talking about. I'm talking so much, God, I should just shut up. Yeah, just shut up, keep my mouth closed. But sometimes I wonder how even to do that, because I have no idea how to shut up and—"
"Oh my fuking god, lady, stop and breathe," my dad says as he shakes me out of my trance, of vocal idk what to call it at this point, I think I could really do a monologue here.
"Sorry, I just got a little anxious thinking about everything, you know how it is with me," I say as I take a breath in and a breath out.
"I should get going, it's early tomorrow, your majesty," my dad says as he gets up from the bed and goes to his room.
This house is quite big for just two people. They even have a pool downstairs. I am not complaining, but yeah, it is not normal where I live to have a pool. It's time for big, rich things.
I look around my room, which is filled with boxes and boxes holding everything I left behind. I sigh again. Oh God, why do I keep sighing? My mouth is done with me today, so let's rest them. Yeah, even my brain is dead; it's drowsy now, okay, sleeping buddy, sorry.
And I am dead. Not literally, but yeah.
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THNAK YOUU FOR READING THISSS
PS I LOVE YOU ALL EVEN IF I DONT KNOW YOU
I AM OPEN TO ANY SORT OF CRIRTICISM BUT PLEASE BE POLITE
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