Chapter 2: Seven Years Later

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"Genevieve, you have two minutes to say goodbye before Maddie and I leave for Arizona without you. Two minutes." Shouts Mom, from the open window of the car.

I don't bother to turn around, I already know what I'll see; Mom fastening her seat belt and wittering on about how glad she is that she never has to lay eyes upon Oklahoma again, Maddie probably lounged out across the backseats chewing gum and reading some dumb magazine, and a boot full of boxes, bin bags and suitcases full to the brim with our possessions. The moving wagon already set off for Arizona fifteen minutes ago, despite our delayed attempt to leave. Something about this place is just too hard to say goodbye to.

I stare up, one last time, at the flaking white paint of our home. Its dark windows, which once welcomed us, now seem daunting and unknown. A memory of Dad hanging out of this particular window comes to mind in which he is singing to our neighbours across the street. I remember smiling up at him from down in the garden and wondering what a bizarre thing to do. That is my Dad, bizarre, but he would always take pride in trying to cheer people up. A sudden raw ache tears at my heart, I only get to see him every few months now, when he has the time to fly over. The grey door, covered in chips and sticker marks, seems void of all memories from my childhood. I remember spending my weekends with young Maddie, plastering hundreds of stickers across the front door because we didn't like the dark colouring of the wood. We wanted to make the house look happier. The garden, which was once artistically fashioned to perfection, is now barren and unloved. I remember when Mom would spend hours and hours planting random new species of flowers and fruit trees in coordinated patterns. She loved to garden, it was her art. She always used to say that it was something about the ocean of colours at the end of the process that she had become addicted to seeing. I haven't seen her pick up a gardening tool in years. All colour from the plants and trees of our past is gone, just like we will be soon. I don't know if I'm supposed to be sad. This house is a box full of memories from my childhood, a reminder of my Dad and a happy life before my tenth birthday. But at the same time, it remains a reminder of the dark times. Arguments, divorce, tears, and a lot of pain also originated inside of this house. It is tainted, because of me.

Looking down at my black Docs being eaten by the yellowing grass, I mutter a quick goodbye and turn to leave. If the last seven years have taught me anything, they have taught me to be a strong person. I don't give up easily and I won't give up now. Leaving Oklahoma, the only place I have ever lived and loved, is going to change us. I can see the hope in my Mom's eyes, even as I make eye contact with her now in the car, all she wants is to be able to live again. Staying in Oklahoma means staying in our ways, staying with our memories and everything that we have lost. All that I want for my family is for this opportunity that we have been given to work. I want to give my Mom her life back. I want to see Maddie smile more. I want to be able to call Dad up and tell him everything that's new, give him a reason to want to come back. If that means leaving this dump of a place, then I welcome it freely. Squashing down my nerves and my guilt, I give Mom a weak smile and slide into the passenger seat, throwing my mobile oxygen supply bag down by my feet and slipping my cold mask over my face.

......

Two hours into our road trip, I decide to make a list of positive outcomes that are being sourced from this big move, to keep my head busy. The first point, being the one I would encounter first, is the fact that I actually get to leave the state of Oklahoma and travel through Texas and New Mexico to get to Arizona. That's four states in a day which is pretty awesome to me. Given that I could fall sick fairly easily, I have always had a desire to travel and see as much as I can, whilst I can. My life lacks energy, it drips with a boring quietness. The same views and landmarks that Oklahoma has to offer, tends to get a little tedious after seventeen years... Even Maddie, from the backseat, shows some vague interest when we cross the border into Texas.

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