Ease My Mind | Finley & Harlyn #1.5

Chapter 1

Finley

May 8th

2:01 PM CDT

Me:
That could've gone better.

2:02 PM CDT
Harlyn:
I'm so sorry, love. What happened?

2:05 PM CDT
Me:
Oh, the usual.
Me:
Guilt tripping.

Me:
"So much change."

Me:
"We're just worried about you."

Me:
"Have you even thought about what you're doing?"

Me:
And some new ones.

Me:
"You're just running away."

Me:
"Even Bridget is making reasonable choices."

Me:
That one threw me. I think it threw Bridget too.

2:10 PM CDT
Harlyn:
Wow. That's a... whole lot of trauma.

2:12 PM CDT

Me:
Tell me about it.

The Conversation/Interrogation/Reprimand ended two hours ago. It started as soon as Max's mom dropped me off after picking us up from the airport. I should be glad I didn't have to spend the two hour car ride from Chicago with them. They might have left me somewhere to walk the rest of the way. I'm sort of surprised they haven't kicked me out of the house yet. Maybe it's coming.

My best friend, Max, and I just got back from a three month long study abroad in England, where I decided I was going to throw out my whole life plan and move to another country to finish school. My parents weren't too happy with that, especially when they found out I started dating someone when I was there. Now they think I'm chasing love across the Atlantic and have, basically, lost my mind. And of course, they chose to talk to me about it as soon as I got home from said trip, after I spent eight hours on a plane and two hours in a car. I guess I didn't really expect anything else.

I finally escaped when my aunt called, but there were promises to talk more about it. I'm sure they'll be doing more talking about it. I'm going to be doing a lot of avoiding and venting to Max and my boyfriend. Which is what I'm doing now. Over text. Curled up on my unmade bed. Facing my still packed suitcases. Trying to muster up enough motivation to start unpacking them. I'm blaming jet lag, but it's more likely emotional exhaustion that's keeping me in the fetal position on a bare mattress.

This room feels foreign now. It hasn't changed much since I was in high school. There's a twin bed, a dresser, a bookshelf, and a desk. I have my little collection of stuff - books, pictures, Funko Pops, notebooks. I've only been gone for three months, but so much changed... I wonder if I'll feel comfortable or at home here again. It's strange feeling like your home isn't your home anymore.

A lot is strange lately.

I get a text from Max, and I'm answering it when there's a knock on my door. My sister, Bridget, pokes her head in. I brace myself for a snarky comment or for her to tell me that Mom and Dad want me to come down for round two. But she comes all the way in, closes the door behind her, and flops into my desk chair. And then she starts talking.

"You cannot believe what it's like living on your own with them. This semester was the longest three months of my entire life. I cannot wait to leave for college in September."

And on and on and on. And I just stare at her.

When Bridget and I were younger, this happened all the time. As soon as Bridget started having friend drama - and honestly, Bridget kind of attracts drama, so it was early - she started showing up in my room to brief me. It happened much like it's happening now. I heard so many elementary - and then middle - school stories I could write an anthology. And I listened. And laughed. And chimed in when I was supposed to. And then I'd tell her my stories, which were much fewer and farther between. I only spent time with Max and our other friend, Holly. And while Max could definitely give Bridget a run for most dramatic, I didn't have nearly as many anecdotes to share. But Bridget still listened. And laughed. And chimed in when she wanted to.