3. Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Katherine
A fter we finish, and Nick goes back home, I remember that I still haven’t finished packing, which honestly for me is the hardest part.
I consider overpacking as an Olympic sport and I currently hold the gold. I’ve always been that way and it’s not because I have too many clothes to choose from, well I do, but I like to be prepared for every occasion. I’m the planner kind of anxious person.
Just when I think I’m done, I pull out an outfit to wear for the plane ride, and replace the space I’ve made with a pair of jeans.
I stand the suitcase right side up and don’t hear a thing move, packed tight just how I like it.
There’s a knock on my door. “Sweetie?” Mom says as she peaks her head around it.
I gesture for her to come in and beam at the two suitcases. “I finished packing,” I tell her as if I’ve just finished painting the Mona Lisa.
She lets out a tired laugh, the kind that just makes me want to hug her. “I can see that, the kitchen sink in there too?”
“Very funny, only the essentials I promise.” But even I don’t believe my lie.
“I’ve heard that before.” She has, every vacation we’ve ever been on .
“Well, if you’ve forgotten anything, I can bring it at Christmas.” She says it so casually, as if we haven’t talked about her not coming over a million times.
We came to the conclusion that she shouldn’t visit, yet she insists. For one, she’s a doctor, it’s not easy to get the time off for holidays, even when she’s worked there for longer than I’ve been alive. Also my nan, she comes to our house every year for Christmas, always has. I love my nan too much to let her be alone at Christmas.
And not that I’ll ever tell her, but I worry her being in Australia will remind her too much of Dad.
I smile at her almost regretfully; this is the hardest part, leaving her. We’ve always been close, we were the three musketeers when Dad was still with us. And then when he wasn’t, Mom and I just got closer.
When someone dies, it can either push you further apart or pull you together and I was lucky Mom and I were the latter. Days were spent together on the couch watching movies and crying. Keeping each other accountable to make sure we went outside and got some fresh air. That’s not to say we didn’t have bad days or days when we both wanted to be left alone. We dealt with it in our own ways, but we did it together. Really, she’s my best friend and the thought of her being on her own makes me want to cry just looking at her.
“Mom, I’ve said if you don’t want to leave Nan at Christmas, it’s okay.” I give her a reassuring smile. I mean it, I’ll have my Aunt Ella, it’s not like I’ll be on my own.
“Danny’s having her over,” she tells me.
I can’t hide the surprised look that comes across my face. “Uncle Danny? As in your brother? As in ‘burns water’ Uncle Danny?”
“Yes, and don’t be mean,” she says scolding me while also not being able to hold back a laugh of her own.
“Sorry, but wow.”
“I know.” And I can only laugh louder remembering the time he had us over for dinner and we had to call the fire department because the chicken was on fire. “I was thinking we could go for one last walk around your favourite parts of the city and you could pick up some snacks for your trip. Then we can come back and watch a movie, get Chinese, and then get an early night before the taxi picks us up at 6 a.m. Sounds like a plan?”
“Sounds like a plan.” I smile at her.
I wasn’t joking when I said this was the hardest part. She's always been my biggest supporter. I know she probably worries about me, but I’m more worried about her.
My mom has never really been on her own. She lived with my nan and grandad while studying, and then with my dad and now with me. When I’m not here, I worry if she’ll be okay on her own.
But that’s what we do, even with the unshakeable sick feeling in my stomach and the tightness that starts in my chest. We take a walk down past the university I graduated from only a few months ago, I smile thinking about the journalism diploma framed in our living room.
We go past my favourite coffee shop and I get the best soy caramel latte in the city.
Even though it is the most touristy thing about this city, we wander through Time Square because while I might be a local, the best things are the most cliché. But we only stay five minutes, because why is it always so busy?
We take one last subway ride back to the apartment and stop off at the corner shop to get some snacks for my plane ride. I buy a whole box of Twinkies and tell myself I’ll definitely be able to fit them in my suitcase, there’s no way Australia has anything as good as them. Maybe I can convince Mom to send me some .
By the time we get back, it’s 4 p.m. We both shower and get into comfy clothes and Mom orders the Chinese, and by the time it arrives, I’m starving.
We eat while we watch my favourite movie, Dirty Dancing.
I text both Bella and Nick to say the taxi will be outside at 6 a.m.—sharp. I do this separately because I know neither will pass the information along, just to be petty. I’m told that’s normal sibling behaviour, but I wouldn’t know.
At about 9:30 p.m., Mom and I head to my room so she can watch me struggle to fit the box of Twinkies in my suitcase and then begin to say our goodbyes.
We sit on my bed, she pulls me into her side and I rest my head on her shoulder as she strokes my hair. Mom used to do it every night for about three months after my dad died, it was the only thing that got me to sleep then. I either couldn’t fall asleep because my panic-filled thoughts wouldn’t stop, or I woke up already crying because I’d had a dream about him.
She’d come into my room or I’d go into hers, and I’d end up crying more because I felt so guilty I was keeping her up. But still, she’d stroke my hair until it stopped or I fell asleep.
“I’m going to miss you so much, honey.” There’s a strain in her voice like she doesn’t want to cry because she knows it’ll make me cry, so I stay looking forward just in case.
“I’m going to miss you, too, Mom. Are you sure you’ll be okay?” It seems silly to ask now, the flights are booked, my bags are packed, and I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Maybe I’m making it about her to not think about the fact I’ve never been without her, either. I didn’t go away to college, I stayed right here with her. NYU had always been the dream, but after Dad was gone, it wasn’t even a conversation about where I’d go .
“Me? Of course, I’ll be okay, silly.” There’s a sad smile on her face I can tell without even looking at her but she continues. “Honey, I got my happy ending.” She pauses. “I didn’t have that long with your dad, but they were the happiest years of my life. And everyday, I get to look at you and I still get to see my favourite parts of him.” She holds me tighter against her. “Your story is only just beginning, so promise you’ll still have some fun. You’ve got your whole life to be in love, make sure you have some adventures, too. Or at least try not to be so strict on yourself. Okay?”
I squeeze her hand that’s around my shoulder. “Okay.”
After mom heads to bed, I go through my check list one last time. I grab my brown, leather backpack and go though that too just to be safe.
I open my laptop and load my blog up on the screen. I’ve had this since I was a teenager. My therapist said it would be good to have somewhere to brain dump, and I’ve never been good at keeping a diary, so this seemed like the best option.
Over the years, it’s developed a little but it’s still mostly where I go to get everything out of my head to quiet my thoughts. It’s completely anonymous, the thought of anyone reading my inner thoughts or mad ramblings makes my skin itch.
Bella is the only one who even knows about it. Only because I made the mistake of keeping my laptop open when she was over. In her defense, she thought it was someone else’s blog I was reading until she put two and two together.
She promised she wouldn’t go find it on her own and she’s never brought it up again since, but I know her, she definitely reads it.
This is it.
I type as if anyone might actually read it.
Tomorrow morning, I’m gone. It feels like only yesterday I booked my ticket and made my plans .
Seeing those words in black and white in front of me almost doesn't feel real. I knew the day would come eventually, I mean I booked the tickets for god sake, but it almost never really felt real.
Am I doing the right thing? This is where the brain dump part comes in.
I don’t know if anyone can actually answer that for me and I’m not sure if I can either. I guess you just have to do what you think is right and hope it leads you to the right place or person. I’ve always felt so at home here but there’s always been something missing, something missing within me. I’ve never felt like a whole piece, a whole person. Maybe it’s the feeling of being on edge all the time or maybe it’s something completely different.
I wish I had the answers, that I knew what the right thing to do was. I hate not knowing, I hate the uncertainty and I hate the questioning. I like things when there is a right or wrong answer. I like knowing what’s going to happen.
But right now, I have no clue what’s going to happen and there is nothing I can do about it, not being in control is the scariest thing I’ve ever felt.
I stare at the blinking cursor and then send the post out into the world.
I slip my laptop into its sleeve and slide it into the back of my backpack, jamming the charger into the bag, too.
My 5 a.m. alarm goes off and I think it’s a dream, a terrifying dream where I’m up before the sun has reached the sky .
A knock at my door soon jolts me up again. “Honey, you need to be up.”
“Yep, Mom, I’m awake,” I say with my face muffled into my pillow.
“I mean it,” she says, stepping into my room, placing a mug of coffee down on my bedside table. “You’ll have plenty of time to sleep on the planes.” She reminds me as if the reminder of being on planes for the next twenty four hours will make me feel better. It doesn’t.
“Don’t remind me,” I say, picking the mug up and bringing it to my lips while taking a long drink.
It takes a minute, but eventually, I pull myself from my bed, and get ready and pack up all the last bits, like my phone changer, and toothbrush.
I pull my suitcases into the hallway and then go back to my room. I look around for a minute, pretending that I’m checking that I haven’t left anything important behind but really I’m just drinking in the sight one last time.
It’s just a bedroom, little Katherine in my head tells me, I’ll have one in Australia, but I know it won’t be the same.
My phone buzzes bring me out of my own mind, it’s Nick, saying he and a very groggy Bella are at our door. I check the time—5:50 a.m.—I shout to Mom and ask her to let them in. I hear her ask Nick to carry one of the suitcases downstairs.
I let out a long sigh, and close my door behind me ready for my next adventure.
The long taxi drive to the airport is not met without protest. Mostly from Bella, either complaining that it’s too early, or insisting that I can still change my mind.
But as I see the first sign for the airport, I have to block her out because I’m scared that if she talks for much longer, I might actually change my mind. I didn’t think that was possible but the more she talks it triggers my strongest emotion and it’s not love .
It’s so strong, it makes my chest feel constricted, and I have to physically make my brain think about anything else to make sure I don’t ask the man to turn the car around.
I think about how much I can’t wait to see the Sydney Opera house or the Sydney Harbour Bridge.
I think about Ella and how I can’t wait to spend time with her after everything. After Dad’s death, after not seeing each other for so long.
The sudden jolt of the taxi pulling to a stop brings me back, I look out the window and I know I can’t turn back now.
“If you don’t give me updates on every guy you meet, I’ll take it as a personal attack,” Bella tells me as she pulls me in for a tight hug, one I’m worried will break my ribs.
“I’ll miss you, too, Bella,” I tell her as she releases me and puts her hands either side of my face and just looks at me. Her eyes start to mist and I feel mine do the same, we’re the kind of friends that don’t need to talk. Who can look at each other and tell the other everything they need to know. Right now I’m telling her I love you and wish you were coming with me , she’s telling me don’t forget me, I love you .
Eventually, she lets go and Nick steps in her place bringing me into a hug. I rest my face on his chest and he smells so good, like home. I spend the whole two seconds wishing one last time that my stone would glow.
“Just call me, yeah?” he asks into my hair and I nod against him. He kisses the top of my head and lets me move to my mom.
We’ve already said our goodbyes, but I still watch as her eyes mist. She doesn’t hug me, she knows too well it’ll tip us over the edge and we’ll both be sobbing. She holds my hands instead and I watch as she takes me in.
“Remember what I said, okay?” she tells me, and I nod at her, too .
I sling my backpack on, and then take a suitcase in each hand and make my way towards the door, struggling. It slides open, but before I go in, I look back at them.
Mom’s still keeping it together but I’m not sure I will be able to make it to TSA without falling apart. But I see Bella put her arm around her, and I know that she and Nick will look after her while I’m away.
When I step foot inside, that’s when it happens; the realisation. It crashes into me all at once and it’s only then that what I’m about to go through feels real.
I’m going to go find my soulmate.