Sea-Witch
Page 7
I was given one day to pack. Tearfully, I called Marnie and broke the news:
“I...have...to...leave.”
“What? Nessa, I can't hear anything you're saying. Your words are all mumbled. Are you crying?”
“I have...to...move...”
“What?”
“I'm moving!” I forced the words out of my mouth.
Marnie was silent. I concentrated on slowing my breathing and stopping my tears.
A minute later she asked me, “But you aren't moving far right?”
Clenching the phone to my ear with my left shoulder, I ripped clothes out of my closet, stuffing them into a suitcase. Anger management was not looking good for my wardrobe. “Yes. Far. Very far—too far. All the way to Vancouver Island.”
Marnie paused, exhaling slowly. I heard her voice crack as she asked me another question: “To Victoria?”
I broke down, collapsing on my bed with a fistful of orange shirts I’d never be able to wear again. “No. I'm moving to the middle of nowhere.”
“Comox?”
“I wish it was that close.” I sniffed. “I'm moving to my grandma's island, off the coast of Tofino. The only way to get there’s by boat. God, Marnie, what am I going to do?” My head swam. I fell over into my blankets, burying my face in darkness.
“When are you leaving?”
“T...” I gasped, and then gasped again. I inhaled air. I tried to exhale but I only inhaled again.
“Nessa? Nessa? Oh my God, you sound like you're hyperventilating. Breathe, okay, Nessa? Just breathe. Like we're doing yoga, slowly in and slowly out. Breathe in.”
I gasped again.
“I'm coming over.”
“Stay.” Breathe in. “On.” Breathe out. “The phone.”
“Okay. I will. And I'll be right there, just breathe with me, okay? In. One. Two. Three. Out.” I listened to Marnie say those words over and over again as I waited. I closed my eyes so all I knew was the sound of Marnie's voice. All I saw was blackness.
“Nessa?” Marnie jumped on the bed beside me. “Sit up.”
I opened my eyes. There was Marnie, blue eyes blazing with worry.
“You're okay. Just breathe.”
Slowly, I regained my breath.
“It really isn't that far away,” she said, as my breathing returned to normal. “We can talk on the phone. There's always text messaging and email. It'll be like you never left.”
Email and phone calls aren't the same, I wanted to say, but I didn't. Instead I pushed myself up off the bed, away from Marnie. I tossed the clothes I'd been clutching into my suitcase. “Can you help me pack?” I asked before my panic rose up and began choking me again.
Marnie pushed herself to the edge of my bed. She was dressed to help in trusted worn-in blue jeans and a pink t-shirt. “Sure.” She looked down at the mess on my floor and bit her lip. “Do you have any more suitcases?”
I looked down at the navy, fifty-pound suitcase I'd taken on a family vacation to Mexico two years ago. Clothes were spilling over the sides, and I still had a dresser full of outfits and half my closet left to pack.
Marnie raised a pale eyebrow. “I really don't think you're going to get any more clothes into that one.”
I crumpled down onto the floor, burying my head in my hands. “How am I going to pack it all? Grandma said I can only take three bags. This isn't all going to fit in three bags—and that doesn’t even include things that aren’t clothes! How can I put my entire life into three bags? I have nothing left, Marnie. Nothing.”
Marnie sat down beside me, wrapped her arms around me, and rested her head on my shoulder. “You have me, no matter how far away I am. And…well, I hate to say it, but most of these clothes don’t look good with your hair. So a wardrobe change might not be such a bad thing. Pack what’s important, like photos and memories.”
I looked at the clothes strewn about the room and burst out in hysterical laughter. “What am I going to do without you? I’m such a mess.”
Marnie laughed even though her smile was sad. “Web cams,” she said. “You're going to need a web cam.”