Packing boxes were scattered and stacked haphazardly all around my room. Boxes full of clothes, books, and other assorted clutter. It wasn’t even that much. I’d purged a great deal of my personal possessions when I’d moved from London to LA, but my room was small, and my life was getting bigger.
I reached for the little, white box on my desk, pulling the lid off carefully and staring at the shiny, new phone inside.
I was surrendering my phone number. It would be disconnected by the time I left for London in a couple days.
It hadn’t been necessary, but it felt like something I needed to do in order to fully lean into the new life I was carving out for myself.
I’d been honest with myself. I could no longer bear the thought that he still had my number, but chose not to use it.
Maybe it would be easier to live in a world where my phone didn’t ring because he didn’t have my number anymore.
September 26th
ENT Officially Confirms GVibes Members Have All Entered Military Training Today
-Good luck, boys!
Chapter 30
It was a one of those sunny but overcast days when I left Cumbria and drove down south to London. The sky jostled with grey clouds that constantly looked on the verge of tipping it down, but never did.
I’d finally reclaimed my little second hand Ford Fiesta for the journey. I’d left the car with my parents when I’d moved to London – the first time – and they’d used it as a spare car, but now it was mine again.
“With train tickets costing what they do these days,” Dad had grumbled, passing me the set of keys, “it’ll be cheaper to drive home than get the train.”
He was very much under the illusion that I would be home every other weekend. Maybe he’d be right.
“Come home whenever you want, baby,” Mum had said as she’d cupped my cheeks.
Her hair had grown down to her ears. It had regrown in pretty curly waves, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen her natural shadequite like this before. She’d dyed it dark for so long that I’d always kind of had it in my mind that she was as dark-haired as me, but in reality she was several shades lighter. It was strange, but it suited her.
I studied her face, the way you look at a person you know you won’t see again for a while.
“Go on,” she’d said, smile widening even as she dropped her hands to give me a gentle shove towards the car.
“Call us when you get settled,” Dad had said gruffly, taking up his place beside my mum.
“I will,” I’d promised, swallowing down the lump in my throat.
The moment had felt like it should be monumental. Trumpets, fanfare, or at least a few tears. There was none of that. Too much had happened since the day I’d come home a year and a half ago.
So, without any ceremony, I got into my little car, full of all of my worldly possessions, and pulled out of the driveway.
Gravel crunched beneath the tyres, and a thin branch slapped against the roof from an overhanging tree.
A cloud moved over the sun, moving shadows across the road as the heating ticked on in the car.
They waved me off from the front door, and my eyes kept flicking up to my rear-view mirror, keeping them in view until the winding country lane lane blocked them from sight.
When I reached the open roads, I let out a breath that trembled only slightly.
I was doing it.
Finally.
My folks had kept the car in fair better nick than I ever had, and I experienced a little thrill as I powered down the M3 toll road, a clear stretch of road separating me from the hardest 18 months of my life to… whatever came next.
I’d set out very early that morning, stopping only a couple of times to refuel. Petrol and coffee, respectively.
