Page 67
Author: Kirsty Moseley
I swallowed the lump in my throat, but I didn’t doubt that I was doing the right thing for myself in leaving. I needed this. I was suffocating here, and I needed to escape the memories that taunted me on a daily basis. As I started the engine I noticed that Zach had followed Alex into the house. I smiled to myself because I knew that he’d keep good on his promise and would make sure that my brother was okay.
I pulled out of the drive, determined not to look back. The car rolled down the road and as I got about three houses away I suddenly started to panic. My foot came off the gas and hovered above the brake. I hesitated for a second, looking in my rear-view mirror, seeing my parents standing there still, watching me go. My resolve faltered, my courage disappeared in an instant, and I suddenly doubted that I was strong enough be alone and start over.
Just as I was about to depress the brake and turn the car around so I could stay, my dad raised his hand, waving goodbye before turning my mom away and leading her inside.
My eyes glazed over as I turned my attention back to the road ahead. That one little move from him gave me my confidence back. He hadn’t stood there expecting my return, he’d waved goodbye and then gone back inside. He had more faith in me than I did and had no doubt in his mind that I was leaving and that this was it. He obviously hadn’t seen my foot hovering as my mind wavered. My dad’s small wave goodbye gave me one last boost in confidence, so I pressed my foot down on the gas and rolled down the road again.
As the street disappeared behind me, so did my nerves. I was going to make it, I knew I was. Sure it would be hard, but I would get there, eventually. Maybe one day my heart would stop hurting and I’d be able to think of Luke without it crushing me inside. Maybe I’d even be happy again one day. Who knows.
Epilogue
The necklace dangled where it had been hung for the last year or so – over the post of my bed. Every now and again the light would catch it in a certain way, making the diamond on the front sparkle. Then it would draw my attention and the memories would flood back at once. That was usually one of the nights that I cried myself to sleep. It didn’t happen very often now though; for the most part I’d moved on. I used the words ‘moved on’ in a very liberal sense because only parts of my life had progressed beyond eating ice-cream and sitting around in my pyjamas. I knew I would never be over it completely.
In some ways though I had managed to regain some semblance of the old Maisie. I had just started in my second year at college; I had a new bunch of friends, and a job that I worked at the weekends selling electrical appliances. My new friends didn’t know much of what went on, just that my boyfriend had died in an accident, nothing else. One of my roommates was even doing the same course as me, so we had become pretty close.
Today was a hard day. Today was valentine’s day, and of course I didn’t have a date. Not that I wanted one, because I didn’t date at all, not since Luke. But today was a day for love, for kissing and cuddling, and for telling your partner that you loved them entirely. And I was alone.
I sighed now and reached for the locket, easing it up off of the bedpost. The metal was smooth and cold to the touch as I ran my finger over the swirly pattern on the front. When I got to the side of it, I popped the catch and looked down at the photo. I hadn’t changed it from the one that Luke had put in there when he gave it to me. I smiled down at the badly cropped photo of us that he’d managed to get inside there. My smile in the photo was a genuine one, and I longed to be able to smile that easily again. Happiness came so easy back then, but now I had to work hard for it. Being ‘normal’ was hard work for me, but I still had hope that one day I’d get there.
I didn’t read the words on the back of the locket, they always upset me and made me feel miserable for the whole day, so instead I just closed it and hung it back into its place on my bed. I forced myself to get to my feet. Maybe college will give me a distraction and stop me feeling sorry for myself. Grabbing my backpack, I slipped on my converse and trudged across my room to my door. I was in halls, so I had my own room but shared a bathroom, kitchen and lounge with three other, what can only be described as, animals. I cringed as I stepped out into the messy hallway, almost stumbling over a pair of shoes that had been abandoned casually in the middle of the walkway. I sighed and kicked them over to the side, shouldering my bag as I stepped into the kitchen.
Georgia was sitting at the counter, munching Cheerios straight from the box, watching Jerry Springer and chewing loudly. She stopped, a handful of Cheerios half way to her mouth. “What the? He’s not the dad? Well be grateful, sister, because bad teeth are genetic,” she jeered, chuckling to herself before throwing in another mouthful of cereal, dropping some down her shirt in the process. I smiled. Georgia, my best friend at college, was a talk show freak, and had to have her fill of drama before college every day.
“Morning,” I greeted, dropping my bag on the counter, narrowly avoiding knocking over a dirty bowl that looked to have contained cereal once.
She didn’t take her eyes off of the TV as she offered me the box of cereal she was eating. “DNA tests reveal that he’s not the father of her child even though she told him she didn’t sleep with anyone else while they were married. Apparently he has his suspicions that she slept with his brother though,” she explained without greeting me.
I stuffed my hand into the box, grabbing a handful out too. “Sounds like it’s just getting interesting,” I replied, pulling up a stool and watching too, just for something to do.
Georgia glanced at me from the corner of her eye. “You okay today?”
“Peachy,” I lied, nodding and willing her to drop the subject.
She snorted, putting down the box and turning off the TV as she twisted in her chair so she was facing me. “Know what we’re going to do tonight?” I raised one eyebrow in prompt, shrugging. “Drunkeness. Total fall on your face, flash your underwear, and throw up in the street drunkenness,” she answered, crossing her arms over her chest. Her expression was stern, challenging even, almost as if she was daring me to oppose her.
I laughed and let out a little groan. When she turned off Springer I knew she was serious. She never turned off Springer for anything, she was a total fangirl. If she wanted drunkenness tonight, then drunkenness would be had whether I wanted it or not. Georgia, being the great friend that she was, had rejected the date with her boyfriend, Ste, tonight because she knew that I would be alone. She was a great friend even though I had only known her for a year and a bit.
“Sounds great. I’ll remember to put on nice underwear then,” I joked, rolling my eyes.
She grinned. “I’m going to wear Bridget Jones pants and make sure that Ste gets a peek, you know he loves those big pants, the freaky boy. ”
I laughed and shook my head; she was always like this, crude, loud and in your face. But it was nice because she seemed to bring out the best of me too. “Are we ready for class?” I asked hopefully.
She nodded, throwing in one last handful of cereal. “Mmm rebby,” she mumbled with her mouth full.
The walk to college was short because we lived just outside the campus. Georgia linked her arm through mine as we walked; telling me about the bars that we would visit tonight and which ones we had to avoid because they’d already rumbled our fake IDs.
When we finally arrived and started making our way up the steps into the main building, someone called my name behind me. I turned, automatically plastering on a fake smile because I knew that was to be expected of me.
As I turned I saw a guy with light brown hair that fell over his forehead and curled at the nape of his neck, and a shaggy, messy beard covered his face. His blue eyes met mine and crinkled around the edges as he smiled broadly. I frowned, a little bemused. I didn’t recognise the guy at all, so had no idea how he would know my name.
“Hi,” I greeted politely.
He laughed, and the sound struck a chord so
mewhere deep down inside me, but I had no idea why. “Don’t you recognise me?” he asked, holding his hands out to the side and looking down at himself. I raked my eyes over him too. Taking in his cowboy boots, fitted jeans, his white button down shirt, and brown suit jacket that that he wore over the top. He held a single red rose in one hand. I looked back up at his face. His nose and lips looked a little familiar, but other than that, nothing.
“Should I?” I asked, raising one eyebrow in question.
He took a step closer to me and Georgia’s hand wrapped around my forearm, pulling me closer to her. The guy noticed and grinned, shaking his head. “I won’t hurt her, don’t worry. ”
His voice. There was something about the way his words sounded and flowed, how his amusement coloured his tone. It was extremely familiar to me, but I couldn’t place it.
“Still not recognise me? That hurts, little rebel,” he teased.
My heart leapt into my throat at the nickname. “Zach?” I gasped, looking him over again and shaking my head in disbelief. He looked so different it was no wonder I hadn’t known who he was.
A grin split his face. “The one and only,” he confirmed cockily.
Before I could stop myself I’d taken the three steps and closed the distance between us, throwing my arms around him and hugging him tightly. Tears pooled in my eyes as he hugged me back, lifting me clean off my feet and crushing me against his chest. His smell filled my lungs as his familiarity washed over me, calming my senses and relaxing my muscles. I laughed, letting some of the stress leave my body. I’d missed him something chronic.
We still kept in touch regularly, emailing, texting and skyping, but I had only seen him in person once since I left home because his schedule was full and we couldn’t ever get time to meet up. When I skyped with him two weeks ago he hadn’t told me he was coming here – and he definitely didn’t have long hair and a scruffy looking beard!
“What are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming, and what on earth is up with the big homeless person beard?” I cried, squeezing him tightly.
Free Falling Page 67
