Embracing Rain

19 - Chance

1 9 - C H A N C E

We've only lived in this town for two months before we get a relocation request from my dad's work in the mail. I find the envelope buried in a stack of other mail on the counter, so wrongly inconspicuous and innocent-looking. Like it could pass for any other piece of mail. It makes me angry that they use such a plain, normal envelope to hold such a destructive piece of paper. Because even without reading the paper, just knowing what's inside makes me panic.

I call Noah immediately, for once not caring that he's in school. I know he doesn't want to be there, anyway, and he'd probably welcome the distraction even if nothing was wrong. He answers on the first ring. "Chance? Is everything okay?"

I pull in a shuddering breath. Just hearing his voice makes me want to fall apart, to collapse to the ground and not get back up. If I refuse to get off the ground, I can't move, right? "No. Can you meet me at that park you showed me the other day?"

I can hear the confusion in his voice. "Now?"

"Yes. Please."

"Will you be able to get there okay?"

"I'll be fine. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Do you want me to pick you up?"

"No, I'm good. I need the walk. Thanks though."

I hang up and stick my phone in my pocket because I know he'll be calling me back and I don't want to answer. I can't answer, not now. Hearing his voice over the phone without being able to see him is already making me nervous—he feels far too disconnected. I need him to be real, right in front of me. Tangible.

So instead, I check to make sure my mom has left for the store before I walk out the front door. I'd still leave even if she were here, but I'd rather not have to answer questions. Or, even worse, have to run away from her. It's possible she'd chase after me.

The door locks behind me before I realize I didn't bring a key. I panic instinctually at first but then realize it's too late to worry about that now. It's not like I'll be wanting to go back home anytime soon, anyway.

Once I get to the bottom of the driveway, I make a left automatically before remembering that I'm heading to the park, not Mugs and Kisses. I turn back around and head to the right. It's yet another sign of how comfortable I've grown here, how accustomed I've grown to this life. And while that would normally make me happy, all it does right now is tear me apart.

I normally appreciate the trees and flowers beginning to sprout along the road and the busy flutter of the birds that comes with the recent spring weather—it's been raining for so long, after all, and spring has always been my favorite season—but I'm too distraught at this point to appreciate much of anything, so I walk quickly with my head down.

What am I supposed to say Noah? Or more like how am I supposed to tell him? I don't regret getting close to him, but there's still a part of me wishes I never had so I could avoid situations exactly like this one. The part of me that wishes that is small, but I can't deny its existence. It makes me think I would've been better off following the same pattern I always had.

I haven't opened the letter yet, so I'm not sure where they're asking us to move this time, and if I'm being honest, I really don't want to know, because no matter where it is, I won't be happy. But if it is a different country, I think I'll try to have Noah either teach me the language or learn it with me. I don't want to keep isolating myself like I have been. And I'm tired of not knowing what's going on, of being completely powerless wherever I go. Even if I have to push myself completely out of my comfort zone, it'll be worth it, I think. I've learned that from my time here.