So Long, Farewell, Goodbye (2)

I boarded the plane, flying the usual... economy. It wasn’t a far stretch; I did it all the time when I wasn’t flying private. “Where are you headed?” said the girl with the pearly whites next to me.

“Westin,” I said, trying to manage a smile.

“Ahhh, Westoners…” she began before volunteering her life story. Giving me the gritty details about her divorce, the mistress that ruined her marriage, and the husband she referred to only as “filth”. “But people from Weston are generally nice. I just married a bad egg,” she said in hopes of salvaging whatever negative opinions I had formed based on her point of view. However, I remained indifferent. I did notice she kept pronouncing ‘Westin’ as ‘Weston’, replacing the ‘I’ with the ‘O’. Maybe I was saying it wrong all the time; probably misspelt it in the book. I didn’t think Sophie would mind. But just to be sure, before boarding the next flight, I took a look at my ticket. ‘Weston’ was boldly imprinted at the centre, and so I stood corrected.

“Anything to drink, sir?” asked the hostess.

Normally, flying built my appetite. But oddly enough, I felt famished. Sylvie’s egg sandwich and two water bottles before my departure were sitting pretty nicely.

“Nothing for me, thank you,” I responded. I took in a few breaths, gazing through the window as the pilot’s voice filtered through the room, telling us to buckle up for the landing. And it was finally here; I was about to meet the girl in the letters, the character in the book, the Sophie who listened. She was no longer going to be a secret, but why was the joy still pending? My mind drifted back to my last conversation with Eda and how we left things.

“You’re a fraud, do you know that?” Eda walked over to my rucksack and pulled out the book.

I figured she was upset that I was leaving and I didn’t tell her. Or she thought that I had fallen in love with Sophie and I didn’t trust her enough to tell her.

“I’m a fraud because I need this vacation and I didn’t want to tell you about it!” I was weary of her efforts to ruin my mood before my flight. “I didn’t know I needed your permission. So forgive me for wanting a break from you, your plastic company, and this glass Godfrey family!” It felt like I was using my head voice, but my heart was pulsing because I wasn’t ready to get into a verbal match with Eda.

“You’re a fraud!” she said again, forcefully. And then began to page through the book. “In person you’re an empty vessel, Eamon…” She pretended to be captured by a page. “But inside there’s an instrument being played, waiting for someone to listen… waiting to be broken.” She dramatically slammed the book and shoved it back into the bag. “You’re desperate to be broken, Eamon. Not just part of you, all of you! And so you’re looking for reasons…” I didn’t know what to say to that…

“Dad’s negligence, Mother’s passing, ‘her’ death, that isn’t climactic enough! So maybe this is the one! Maybe losing her would make sense of it all.”

I wondered if it was true.

Dear Eamon

I couldn’t wait to talk to you again. At times, this writing to each other once a week becomes difficult, especially when a lot has happened. But I’ll try to keep it brief, I promise ;)

I’m still waiting for the surprise you promised. I wish I wasn’t anxious, but it’s in a good way. I rarely get anything in the mail that comes to me, so it’s just nice to receive something once in a while. Hell! At this point, I’ll even take a letter from the credit company. At least someone is thinking about me.

Anyway, you know by now this is the last week of high school. The twins (remember them? Shelly and Simone) convinced their parents to abandon the nest for a weekend and decided to throw the last hurrah before we pretend we don’t know each other. Everyone (close friends) thought it was brilliant. Some of us even gave ourselves party responsibilities; Ian (Ryan’s best friend) was on music, Ryan was going to handle the party games, and Eric (Ryan’s bandmate and questionable friend) agreed to bring the beverages and ‘party snacks.’ And he wasn’t talking about juice or food, if you catch my drift. I, of course, took over the food department, and naturally, the twins’ focus would be on the guest list; it was their house.

Like always, these gigs start out with somebody giving a speech about how they want to keep things small and intimate; “Just the people who matter,” Simone said. And, of course, that wasn’t specific enough because Ryan decided to invite all his teammates, Shelly went on ahead and invited her cheer squad, Simone added her debate team, and Ian, who had less of a say than Ryan, decided to send an open invitation to his biker friends from the neighbourhood (one of them happened to be Lyon, my ex). Surprised? Yes? I know. I don’t talk about him because, if I could change anything about my high school years, it would be him. It’s sad because every first you could think of and have with anyone, I had with Lyon. And I feel silly because I was naïve, gullible, and impressionable. The guy told me he could give me the world, and I believed him. Then he went ahead and cheated on me with someone I foolishly trusted, and I could never forgive him.

But obviously, I survived the party, or else you wouldn’t be getting this. I think the entire senior class showed up, so imagine tonnes of people. I even had a lamb conversation with some girl I met two years ago at band camp. Not lame, lamb; that’s how platitudinous she was. Shelly and her pompom squad reigned over the dance floor, grinding and straddling the erogenous parts of their male counterparts. They tried to push me to get Ryan to follow suit, but he had been acting very weird around me. And it wasn’t just at the party; it was all week.

Whenever I went up to him, he was either engaged in conversation about the new Chelsea club managers, his conspiracies about Manchester City, or how Tottenham will forever be the little engine that could. And when we finally got some alone time and I told him about my dad losing his job at the paper and how my mom was thinking about starting a catering business in hopes of raising enough money to put me through college, he didn’t say anything. But as soon as he spotted Ian, he had a lot to say about some footballer, Ibrahimović’s, book and how he loved how he was sticking it to his former coach. Maybe it was my fault; it’s not the kind of conversation you want to have at a party, no matter how upset I was. I don’t know?

Maybe I was overreacting because Lyon was there, or Ryan was uncomfortable being around me because Lyon was there. There’s a part of me that feels Ryan thinks I’m still in love with Lyon. But I didn’t invite Lyon; Ian did! And Lyon being there wasn’t making me feel comfortable. My mind is never empty when I’m around him; I felt like he was watching me, watching him. And he has a way of looking at me, or anybody, like he’s undressing you. I’m not being dramatic; Shelly can vouch for me. I was feeling very vulnerable that night. Shelly kept telling me to ignore him the whole time. But he was making it impossible with his constant whispering in the ears of anybody in a skirt. I wasn’t jealous, just furious, and it also reminded me of his loose tongue. Lyon had the gall to tell me that I was a better chase but an insipid prize. “Insipid prize?” The idiot! Not only did his presence ruin the night, Ryan’s attitude killed my mood, and the party never felt like a real goodbye. It needed to be reset! I was miserable and for all the wrong reasons and all the wrong people. Maybe I’ll excuse Ryan, I don’t know. I’ll try and find out what’s going on with him this week.

And yes, it did happen; my dad is jobless. I haven’t seen my mom so devastated. It’s like just looking at me makes her want to burst into tears. Maybe I remind her she’s not doing enough, or that the more she tries, the more she’s failing at it. And so I find myself at the W more often than usual. I told you it’s my resting place, where I like to clear my mind. Sitting on the dark coral bench, looking out and feeling jealous of the air that remains unattached helps me put my life and everyone in and around it into perspective. Right now, the W is my sanctuary; if anyone’s looking, you’ll know where to find me. And when I’m beyond reproach, I look up pictures of Peridot, and I wish I was with you. (I hope that doesn’t scare you away; I just felt it needed to be said.)

I promised to keep this brief. Sorry, but I can’t say goodbye without asking you about Eda’s charity gala. And it was nice to know that Edward finally proposed and she said yes! I felt bad that she suspended her answer for a few more answers; I would have passed out if I were Edward. But all’s well that ends well, right? Maybe if we just continue to believe that there’s love and joy out there, and it’s ours, it will be.

I am linking you to the notion too, Eamon. I won’t give up, and I hope you won’t.

Xoxo

Sophie