Everything Has Changed

by Mia Kayla

  THE NEXT MORNING, WE REMAINED silent as I drove my Mini Cooper to O’Hare International Airport. Turning into the departure terminal, I noticed Jimmy stealing glances at me, but I didn’t dare look in his direction, afraid of all the emotions I would feel.

  After the millionth time of seeing each other off, I had thought this would get easier. It never did. It was only getting harder to say good-bye. At least this time, I knew he was coming back in a week.

  When I spotted the American Airlines sign, I pulled to the right and put on my hazard lights. I turned to him, not meeting his eyes, and then leaned in to give him a quick hug. “Okay, see you in a week,” I said quickly, not wanting to drag this gut-wrenching horrible good-bye out any longer.

  When I tried to pull away, he drew me in closer without saying a word. His breath tickled my neck, and I inhaled deeply, committing his scent to memory until the next time I would see him.

  I basked in his embrace and the silence as I bit my lower lip. I swallowed, feeling a soreness in the back of my throat. He seemed to hold me forever until we were interrupted by a police officer tapping on the window, gesturing in a hurry-up motion.

  Reluctantly, he released me, motioning to the officer to give us a moment. Gazing down at me, sadness filtered through his eyes, sort of like last night. “I’ll see you in a week for your special day.”

  I gave him a look, and he just laughed.

  “I know your rules, but I want to do something different this time for your golden.”

  I bit my cheek, thinking of my birthday and all the memories that came with celebrating.

  “Stop overthinking things.” He pulled me in and kissed the top of my head, breaking me from my thoughts. “I had fun this weekend.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I replied with a smile. Despite last night’s argument, spending all that time with him had been amazing.

  His muscles flexed as he reached in the backseat for his carry-on bag. I practically drooled all over my fitted white baby tee.

  Stepping out, he gave me a small smile. “I’ll miss you, Boo.” Then, he shut the door.

  “I’ll miss you more than you know,” I murmured, letting the words float through the empty car.

  My heart constricted as I watched the automatic doors open and swallow him in, and then he was gone.

  I wondered when the lump in my throat was going to go away. I guess good-byes with Jimmy will never get easier.

  Past—Start of Freshman Year of College

  I didn’t say a word as I drove my best friend in the whole world, the person who I’d seen almost every day since first grade, to the airport to see him off to Florida State. A lump formed at the back of my throat at the thought of our friendship dwindling to one call a day because I knew those calls would eventually cease. He would get busy, make new friends, get caught up in his classes and football, and eventually, he’d forget about me. The days and weeks had been leading to this dreadful point.

  As I drove down Interstate 90, we both fell silent. When I turned on the radio, Jimmy flipped it back off. It was as if he wanted to sit in the despair of our silence.

  When I pulled to the side at the departure terminal of O’Hare International Airport, I felt a heaviness in my chest spreading to my limbs. My heartbeat turned sluggish as if it were going to slow to a stop. I turned toward him and stifled a cry as the sadness in my eyes trickled through his. This was the first time I had to say good-bye to him for longer than a weekend.

  Jimmy was the first to break the quiet, “I’ll call you every day at eight in the morning.” It was a vehement promise to himself and to me. “You’re the first person I’m going to talk to before class, I swear. Then, I’m gonna fly you down for visits.” His voice broke, which only intensified my heartache. “I promise. Nothing is going to…ever change.”

  I peered up at him through my damp lashes, my tears on the brink of spilling over.

  We stared at each other, and in the next second, his arms caged around me. “Shit, Boo. I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

  I clenched my eyes, wishing I didn’t have to do this. I wished for time to rewind two months, going back to when my father had been alive and everything had been perfect, carefree, and easy.

  As Jimmy held me close, I inhaled the light scent of his cologne, drowning in the aroma and breathing him all in.

  “Nothing’s going to change. I’m always going to be here for you,” he repeated himself over and over.

  All I could do was nod continuously. If I spoke, that would be it. I would be a blubbering mess.

  I didn’t know if I could get through this, my mother’s depression, and a new school without my rock, my Jimmy, my only. I had always been the strong one until my father had been taken away, and now, everything I knew had shifted. The stability in my family and what I’d always known was broken.

  It was funny how, in the blink of an eye, everything could change. My father’s death had been so unexpected. He’d been there one day and gone the next. His death had broken me down and changed my mom. Consequently, it had also altered my plans for the future. I couldn’t bear to leave her, so I had given up Brown to take care of my grief-stricken mother.

  Now, the only stable thing, the only person I depended on, was leaving me. I had never felt this unsteady. It was as if the ground could crumble underneath me at any moment and swallow me whole.

  Brown was gone. My father was gone. My mother was mentally gone. Now, Jimmy would be gone.

  I knew there was no way he’d ever stay and give up his full ride to Florida State and his dream of going pro for me. Nor would I ever in a million years ask that of him. Still, I was dying inside, and every part of me wanted to yell and beg for him to stay, to be here for me. I doubted my ability to move forward through all I would have to endure this without him.

  But I’d loved this man since he was a boy.

  He needed to live his life and stop worrying about me, and I needed to be unselfish and let him go.

  I choked back the tears and used all my energy to sound confident when I told him, “I’ll be fine. You need to go. You’re going to miss your flight.”

  He pulled away, not even holding back the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “I…I love you, Boo. No amount of miles between us will ever change that. You can call me whenever you want—to talk about your dad, to shoot the shit, whatever. Okay? If you need me here, I’ll be on the next flight back.” He inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. “Nothing’s going to change. I promise you that, and you know when I promise, I mean it.”

  He extended his pinky. “You’re going to be okay, and I’m going to be okay. When we see each other again, everything is going to be the same as it always has been.”

  His eyes showed such emotion, such sadness, that I had to blink a million times to compose myself.

  I forced a smile for his benefit, and then I pushed him toward the door. “Go. You’re going to miss your flight.”

  I noticed his eyes were glossed over. If he didn’t leave soon, I was going to lose it, and I couldn’t let go in front of him. It’d be harder for both of us if I did. I bit my cheek to stop the emotions coursing through me, forcing the tears not to fall.

  “I’m fine, Jimmy. I’ll be okay. Go.” My voice cracked on that last word.

  After one final look, he kissed my forehead and opened his door. “Bye, Boo.”

  Jimmy was always my anchor, keeping me steady. Now, that anchor had to lift, so the ship could sail.

  As soon as he slammed the door behind him, I dropped the gear and pressed on the gas. Through my rearview mirror, I caught him standing on the sidewalk, watching me drive away. His figure gradually disappeared. I swiped at my cheek as tears finally trailed down my face, and I cried all the way home, trudging forward with my old life while Jimmy started his new one.

  He’d told me that everything would remain the same, but everything was changing. It already had.

  Past—Sophomore Year

>   And so my old life had become my new life.

  I was still living at home, waking up every day in the same room I’d been waking up in since I was six. I’d spent my freshman year at the local community college since it was close and I could drive home within fifteen minutes if my mother needed me. Also, it’d been too late to get in anywhere else. By the fall of my sophomore year, I’d applied at Northwestern and gotten in.

  As I walked through the Northwestern campus, I tilted my head and lifted my chin to the sky, feeling the autumn sunshine beating down on my face. The wind blew lightly, swishing my hair against my cheeks.

  “Bliss,” someone called from behind me.

  I stopped and turned, noticing McKenna jogging toward me. She was one of the four girls I had met in Economics.

  We had formed a study group along with some other girls. I always felt a twinge of jealousy when the girls hung out after class, and I had other obligations at home.

  “Hey,” I said.

  She stopped in front of me, her friendly smile widening. “I forgot to tell you at lecture. Callie, a couple of the other girls, and I are going out tonight. We’re going to try that new wine bar. Wanna meet us there?” She clasped her hands together in anticipation as the breeze blew the skirt of her yellow sundress. It was a pretty color on her as it accentuated the yellow in her strawberry-blonde hair.

  I deliberated, trying not to make a face. Bars weren’t my usual scene, but every part of me wanted to escape my everyday routine. “What time?”

  “Do you want to do dinner before? We’re meeting at seven for tapas.” She smiled, expectantly waiting for my reply.

  I glanced at my watch. It was three forty-five. My biggest hurdle would be finding someone to take care of my mother after hours. If I drove home fast enough, Katrina could possibly stay past her shift or I could find someone to cover.

  McKenna tugged on my arm. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

  It wasn’t like I didn’t want to. I had to make this happen. This was the fourth time they’d invited me. If I kept saying no, I was afraid they’d stop asking.

  “Okay,” I replied, suddenly feeling a surge of energy. “I’ll meet you there at seven.”

  “Great!” she squealed, giving me a half hug before turning to jog away.

  As I made my way to my car, I had a bounce in my step, one that I hadn’t noticed in a long time, and I welcomed the change.

  “Katrina!” I yelled as I flew into my house before shutting the door behind me.

  Folded clothes were on the kitchen table, indicating that she was more than likely still doing laundry.

  I peered into the laundry room, and I was right. “Hey.”

  The dryer shook and rattled in the background as Katrina proceeded to put the whites in the washer. “Oh, hi, Bliss.”

  Our neighbor’s white hair gleamed against the sun shining through the little window. She had offered to help us after my father had died. When I couldn’t keep up with the physical stress of school and the emotional stress of taking care of my mother, I’d finally given in. She was a godsend.

  “Hey, I wanted to ask you for a favor.” I twisted my fingers together as I bounced lightly on my toes. “Some of my girlfriends are going out to dinner tonight, and I was wondering if you could stay and watch my mother just until eleven or so.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Oh, darling, of course. I was telling Frederick that I wished you went out more. I’ll tell him to bring dinner over.”

  Her husband, Frederick, was just as handy, gardening and mowing our yard when he was available.

  I practically jumped on her, a sudden sensation of relief washing over me. “Oh, thank you.” I threw my arms around her.

  She smelled of cinnamon and apple pie, and I let her wholesome goodness sink into me.

  She chuckled lightly. “Hopefully, we can convince her to come out of her room today.”

  I stepped back, feeling some of that relief fall right out of me. Nausea crept up my throat. “She hasn’t come out of her room?” I tried to push down the erratic thoughts filling my head.

  Katrina shook her head, a sad small smile forming on her face. “I checked on her earlier. She’s in one of her moods.”

  “Did she take her meds this morning?” A familiar heaviness in my heart formed as my joy and excitement from a second ago started to disappear.

  “Yes, I made sure of it.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I pivoted stiffly to head up the stairs.

  Katrina caught my forearm. “Honey, she’ll be fine. She’s just in a mood.” Her eyes were soft and encouraging. “You go, and have fun. We can take care of her for an evening.”

  “I just want to check on her,” I told her, my smile faltering. I rushed out of the room, not wanting to see the sympathy in her eyes that I knew would likely be there.

  My pulse raced as I took the stairs two at a time. I knocked once before turning the knob to step into the room. When I heard her muffled cries, the heaviness in my heart intensified. I walked toward her at a painfully slow pace.

  She was curled up on her bed with the comforter covering her mouth, trying to hide her cries. Her strawberry-blonde hair was matted against her head. Her eyes were red from crying, and the dark bags were evident from exhaustion.

  The strong woman I had known all my life was unrecognizable. After my father had died, it was as if he had taken her with him. Now, that woman who had once been full of life was gone. All that was left of her was a shell of the woman I used to know.

  I would get hopeful here and there, but things never really changed. Just when I would see glimpses of her old self, they would be gone in an instant. Every time I witnessed her like this, my heart would break, crumbling into pieces, because I remembered how she used to be. All I wished for, all I wanted, was my old mother back.

  “Mom,” I said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed, “what’s wrong?”

  Her cries intensified, and even though I knew she’d never answer me, I kept asking. When she got into her crying fits, she would be inconsolable, but I would keep asking. Maybe one day, she’d stop crying and answer.

  One month after my father had passed, I’d begged her to seek counseling. I’d told her that I needed to heal too, using it as an excuse to get her to go. I was concerned for her well-being and her safety.

  The therapist had said that incessant weeping was normal, but the not showering, not eating, and the nonstop wailing were not. My mother had been diagnosed with depression.

  Before, I had worried that she would take her life just to join him. Those were the days that would scare me the most, and during those nights, Jimmy would stay on the phone with me, comforting me.

  Now, a little more than a year later, I’d thought we had jumped this hurdle. I had thought she was getting better. Just last week, she had been gardening, a hobby she had enjoyed when my father was alive.

  Tears coursed down her face, and my heart hurt—for the loss of her soul mate, for her crying herself to sleep, and for the loss of a man who had been taken too early.

  I scooted behind her and cradled her in my arms. “Mom, did you eat? You should really eat something.” My words were worthless. More than anyone, I knew that there was no reasoning with her when she was in this state.

  When her cries got even louder, I pulled her against me, brushing her hair away from her face. I didn’t know what else to do but hum the melody my father had always sung to me when I was younger. He’d sung it whenever I was scared, hurt, or crying for whatever silly reasons little girls cried about. There were times when he’d grabbed my mother while she was making dinner, and he’d twirled her around to dance. My chest vibrated as the tune from “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” rang out and echoed in the large room.

  I slowly rocked her until her cries finally died down, and I let the last line slip out. My voice almost broke while I dared to dream as the end of the song had said.

  For the thousandth time, I dreamed that my mother would one day get better, and thi
s normalcy of my life—of holding my mother and rocking her to sleep—would cease, and I could move on. I craved the predictability of college life, of school, of doing nothing on a lazy day, of being a kid again.

  When I heard her soft snores and even breaths, I scooted off the bed and made my way downstairs. I dismissed Katrina because there was no way I could leave my mother tonight. With a lump in my throat, I hoped for the day when the bulk of my troubles would be acing my finals.

  Once Katrina left, I pulled out my phone and texted my friend, saying that I wouldn’t be able to make it tonight. Then, I sat under the dim lights of the empty kitchen, and to myself, I whispered that last line one more time, daring to dream that one day all these struggles would be a faded memory.

  Present Day

  I had dropped Jimmy off on Sunday night. Monday morning, before my summer school class, I lay on my bed, clutching my pillow, as I stared at my phone on the nightstand next to me. I was most definitely having a Jimmy hangover.

  The clock on my nightstand read 7:57 a.m. Jimmy’s call always came right at eight. It was just as certain as my morning coffee would not making itself.

  I looked forward to those calls because the huskiness of his voice would wake me up from my sleep, but most of all, because he’d give me my morning laugh that began my day with a smile.

  After his call, my day could officially begin. It was routine—call, shower, coffee, school.

  I pulled the covers tighter around me, still half asleep. At eight, right on cue, my phone rang, instantly jolting me awake.

  I reached over to my nightstand and answered the phone, “Hello?” I faked a hoarse voice, pretending I had just woken up.

  “Boo how are you? Get up. It’s Monday. Five more days until I see you.” He was wide-awake and already sounding chipper. He’d always been a morning person, a quality I was jealous of.

  I pictured him lying on his bed, shirtless, with his hair a tousled mess but still looking as handsome as ever.

  “Hey, Jimmy.” I smiled even though he couldn’t see me.

  “What do you have planned today?”