Home Again

I'm back home sitting on my tiny twin bed, facing my "artwork" from 8th grade and my stuffed animals in the corner. Mom and Dad are sleeping across the hall and I have to get up for church in the morning. It's weird.



The last week of school proved itself to be emotional. I was sick and stressed. I would wake up nauseous about the fact that I was on track to fail my math class (which I did). I was in an unpleasant haze, chock full of denial. Denial about my grades, denial about leaving my friends, and the biggest denial of all: the fact that I was leaving the BND.

I'm not sure what kind of conclusion we came to when all was said and done.

"I just hate to think that I had false hope all along," I told him.

"Well, I had real hope," he said.

"It's just... we are half a step away from a relationship!" I said, "Are you really that disinterested? Are you disinterested in what we have now?"

"No, no I am not," he replied, "Ok, let me put it this way. While the majority of me wants this, there's still a part of me that isn't ready for this. And if I'm not whole heartedly in this, it's not really anything, is it?"

It sucks to be the one who is whole heartedly in it. I mean, I've read Jane Austen and everything, but I had no idea how much unrequited love bites. At least there aren't any corsets involved.

The part of the last week of school that I hated most was the night the BND left. I kept him company through most of the afternoon while he packed and cleaned. When his mom arrived, he told me he'd come back and say bye before he left. By the time he got around to leaving, everyone was out on the balcony, crowded around his door, and there was really no un-awkward way for the two of us to say a proper goodbye. He knew it, I knew it. He said goodbye to everyone. He looked right at me as I tried not to break down.

I went into Katrina's room and heard everyone shout goodbye from the balcony. That's when I started to sob.

But, even in the absence of a satisfying conclusion, life went on. I packed up, said goodbye to all that, and came home.

So here I am, sitting in my tiny twin at home, left with a handful of credits and a broken heart. It doesn't even seem like everything that happened with the BND was real. It seems faraway, in a different plane of existence, lived by some alter-ego Laurel who could stay out until 2:30 in the morning and not be relentlessly questioned by her mother the subsequent afternoon.

School is like the crazy LOST island, where time moves differently.

We've got to go back, Kate.