35. Lara
Saying goodbye isn”t easy.
Especially with knowing the chances of ever reseeing what I”m saying goodbye to are probably next to none.
I zip the last suitcase before I rub my temple, hoping to relieve the headache gnawing at me. The lack of sleep and nightmares, paired with my recent discharge from the hospital, aren”t helping, either.
If I force myself to look at the bright side, I think I should get some sleep during the flight.
I”m hoping I”ll have decent enough sleep without nightmares, away from the memories of my sister, away from my mind”s everlasting pain of breaking up my family. And away from my heart, which still bleeds when I think about Dylan”s broken expression when I told him I was leaving Wyoming.
”You ready, Lara? Uncle Gary is two minutes away.” Mother”s voice reverberates through the living room up to my bedroom and sends a jolt down my spine.
”Be right there,” I call back.
I hold my breath for five seconds, then release.
A heavy sadness consumes me as I glance around my room, stripped of my belongings, leaving only the furniture. The reality of moving to another country settles in my bones, intensifying the gut-wrenching sorrow that parallels the pain of losing my sister.
The walls that once echoed with laughter are now silent and empty.
I can”t remember the last time I smiled or laughed without forcing it.
I think about the funeral. The casket. Seeing my sister”s body before the pitiful smiles were thrown my way. The entire time, I put on a front to keep everything together, to not make it about me.
I push all of that away.
I stuff it down deep.
Everything is changing, and I can do nothing to stop it.
The thought of starting a new life in an unfamiliar place without my father or friends is terrifying, and I can”t help but feel a sense of overwhelming loss.
After glancing once more around to ensure I left nothing behind, I open my schoolbag, triple-checking I have the essentials like a phone charger, wallet, ID, and passport. With my belongings packed, I”m prepared to make several trips to and from my room when I hear a soft knock.
As I spin around, I”m met with my dad”s kind smile. ”Hey, pumpkin.”
While a part of me is delighted to see him, I”m also disappointed.
Why did I think Mother was coming to talk to me? Maybe to tell me she had changed her mind about returning to Paris.
Just like my mom, I”ve noticed my dad appears drained. It”s like he”s aged in a matter of weeks. The bags under his eyes have deepened, and his skin is pale. He”s always been energetic, lively, and tan, but now, he”s slowing down.
All because of me.
I force a smile as he walks in and looks around the room. But then he replaces his wary expression with that usual light smile and rolls two heavy suitcases to the door.
”Thank you,” I whisper. Suddenly, I”m like a child, terrified of these new changes and wanting to run and hide.
Almost as if he can read my mind, he turns and opens his arm, and I run into them.
Burying my head into the crook of his neck and fisting the back of his shirt, I exhale a ragged breath. ”Thank you for everything. I couldn”t have asked for a better person to be my dad.”
I miss you already.
He tightens his hold around me and kisses the side of my head. ”You—you know you—can stay, right?” he whispers through a ragged, croaked tremor.
A lump forms in my throat, and I hold back my sobs because I know if I don”t, the strong fa?ade I”m holding in place will crumble.
It”s hard to leave my dad and our home, where we”ve shared so many memories.
The thought of leaving him and everything behind makes me miserable.
I figured I”d remain on the ranch, surrounded by family and closest friends, for all of my life. People always dream of moving away from small areas, but I always knew this place was where my heart calls home.
I wish everything could stay the same.
I wish I”d died and not Amanda.
I want to stay here with my father.
But who”d be there for Mother?
Not to mention maybe—maybe this will be for the best?
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I force myself to smile and seem brave in front of my father despite how much my lips tremble.
”I know,” I agree as we finally pull away. ”But I have to. Who else is going to look after her?”
My father sniffs and chuckles. ”Who”s going to look after your dad?”
Despite the terrible, gloomy mood, I find myself giggling softly. ”You”ll be fine, especially living next to—” I trail off, and the seconds of happiness suddenly disperse as Dylan”s face flashes across my mind. My heart sinks as I realize I”ll probably never see him again.
By the time I visit, Dylan will probably not only have forgotten me but may have started his own family. It”s like a part of me has been ripped away at the mere thought, leaving me empty and alone.
It hurts so damn much.
I have no doubt I love Dylan.
But we”ve met at the wrong time.
Maybe met in the wrong life.
”It”s certainly going to be quiet without you both,” Papa whispers, cupping my cheek to kiss my forehead. ”Look after your mother for me, and you be good over there, okay? Call me when you land.”
I nod, placing my hand over his large, callused-filled one still on my cheek. ”I will, Papa.”
”I love you, Lara. Never forget how much I love you, okay? You”ll always be my precious treasure, and please—” He pauses. ”Please don”t ever blame yourself for what happened. Do I make myself clear? There”s nothing to forgive… it was an accident.”
Don”t cry.
Please don”t cry. I chant that over and over and over.
Papa also lost a lot—and to know he still loves me so much is like a crime.
Ultimately, I can do nothing besides curtly nod, and I”m barely able to look him in the face because it”ll be over if I do.
I steady my breathing and keep my emotions in check, but it”s proving hard.
It”s hard to accept that this is how things have to be.
It has to be.
Neither of us says anything more as he helps me haul my suitcases into the living room. Uncle Gary has arrived, and Mother is outside greeting him. She can”t stand being in this house for even a second longer.
Who am I to blame her?
It only solidifies what I already knew in my heart—that she isn”t changing her mind about moving.
I take one last look at the living room, trying to imprint the image in my mind.
As my dad rolls my bags to my uncle”s SUV, I come out a few seconds later. Uncle Gary looks at me, giving me a soft smile.
”Bonjour, gamin,” he greets, pulling me in for a hug when I get close. ”You ready to take on Paris?”
No.
”Yeah,” I whisper as he takes my school bag from me and places it in the backseat.
From the corner of my eye, I see Mother glancing at where my father is helping my uncle pack.
My dad looks at her briefly before his eyes shift to the ground. He hates this.
He loves my mother more than anything in the world, and I know how it feels to have your heart ripped out.
As my father”s eyes are trained on the ground, he doesn”t see Mother”s mouth open and close a few times. It”s as if she wants to say something but stops herself.
Say something.
Please, say something.
Ultimately, she turns to get into the passenger seat without another word.
My dad gazes at where she once stood as if he”s finally started to realize that we”re moving and he”s lost his chance.
Staring at him, I know he”s also trying his hardest to stay strong and respect my mom”s decisions.
For her sake.
I turn it all off.
My body and mind go numb.
As Uncle Gary loads our suitcases into the back, I spot a white moth or butterfly.
What”s she doing out this time of the year?
She”s delicate and so tiny that I might”ve missed her if I hadn”t been focusing on what”s right in front of me.
It”s dancing, fluttering up in the air before coming back down.
I”m still, almost captivated, as it flies over errantly as if she”s known me her entire life. Then it lands on my sleeve, almost seeming to be looking at me before flapping her wings again.
This time, she lands on my nose, my cheek, and then the center of my forehead before crawling down to my nose again.
It”s like she”s trying to tell me something.
My hand extends before my face, and she flutters to my raised index finger. I smile at how cute it is. She flaps her wings excitedly before spinning around on my finger.
Strange.
”Ready, Lara?” Uncle Gary”s voice makes me jolt.
I hadn”t realized that while enthralled by the butterfly, I turned away from my uncle”s SUV and turned toward my home. The butterfly flies off my index finger and flies toward the house. I swallow the growing lump in my throat and return my attention to my mom and Uncle Gary.
”I”m ready.”
”We should be able to beat the airport traffic with a few minutes to spare… Uh, get in whenever you”re ready,” he says, walking to the driver”s side and slamming the door closed to give my dad and me some privacy.
I give him one last hug.
”Don”t get into any trouble,” I say before he does, trying to make it a bit less painful than it has to be.
He tightens his arms around me, practically squeezing me to death, seeming to have forgotten I”ve just left the hospital.
”I”m sorry,” he croaks and returns to the house.
I gaze at my house one last time with an unbearable sorrow in the pit of my stomach.
This could be the last time I see my home.
As I stare at the huge house, memories flood in, and the weight of my decision bears down on me. The sadness is suffocating, and I can”t help but wonder if I made the right choice when Mother asked me to go to France.
It-it must be better from here on out, though. In a new place… where I can start fresh?
Then, my gaze drifts in the direction of my neighbor”s ranch.
While I can”t see anyone from where I am, Dylan is over there.
I love you.
I wish I”d told him those words when I had the chance… before everything came crumbling down.
It”s cruel that I”m realizing after being so stubborn about my feelings that I wish I would”ve opened up to Dylan. But I need to be in a better place. It”s not fair to him.
Suddenly, the wind picks up, almost like it wants to carry my declaration to the guy I”m leaving.
Tears slide down my face before I swipe them away and slide into the SUV, sealing my fate. With each mile placed between everything I love… something in me breaks.
I don”t know how I”ll make it through today, let alone the rest of my life.
I”m going to miss Dylan. The memories of everything I love and have loved. And how my heart isn”t recognizable anymore.
I can”t bear the thought of leaving… but I have to.
It”s wrong to be happy after everything that”s happened and what I”ve done.
This is my punishment.
As we turn onto the main road and head for the airport, I wonder how I”ll survive Paris.
And little do I know… the worst is yet to come…
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