AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I heard her, Beth. But she’s not a baby anymore. She’s grown. She won’t stay with us forever.”
Mom pouts and sits back down. Dad rubs her back in small circles. Though he isn’t one for affection, he knows what Mom needs.
They’re completely opposite from one another, yet they work so well together. Will I ever have what they have? I always thought I’d have lasting love with Joe. Now, who knows what my future holds? I’m about to embark on a new adventure. I’m not sure what’s in store for me, and it’s terrifying.
The beautiful, dark stranger pops into my mind, and a smile creeps onto my face.
Plan A didn’t work out, so now you move on to Plan B.
Deregister from my classes. Check. Contact the College of Staten Island about enrollment. Check. Find an apartment. Check. Call Joe back … question mark.
I haven’t been able to cross that one off yet, and it’s killing me. I hate not being able to complete a to-do list.
I’ve been staring at Joe’s name on my phone for the past three weeks. Since I’d returned from New York, he’d left thirty-two texts and three voicemails. Mom says I should talk to him. Part of me wants to get it over with. But every time I think I’m going to make the call, something interrupts me.
Take yesterday, for example. I was about to call him when I realized my bookshelf needed to be reorganized. I’d had my books in alphabetical order by title, but the genres were all different. Clearly, they couldn’t remain in disarray like that. It feels so much better now that I have Colleen Hoover sitting between Jamie McGuire and Kandi Steiner.
The day before that, I sat down with every intention to call Joe, but Bridesmaids was on the E! channel. When that movie comes on, one doesn’t turn it off. One sits there and recites every line from the airplane scene.
“Stove. What kind of name is that? Are you an appliance?” It gets me every time.
Two days prior, I cleaned out Mom’s pantry and grouped her spices in order of how often she uses them. I’m not paying rent here, so I need to help out whenever I can.
What I’m trying to say is: I’ve been extremely busy doing very important things.
Now, I sit on my bed with my phone in hand. No interruptions. No distractions. It’s time. I take a deep breath as my thumb hovers over Joe’s name.
I’m feeling anxious. Maybe I should do yoga before I call Joe. Then, I’ll be more relaxed when we talk. I set my phone on my night stand and roll out my mat.
Thirty minutes later, I’m on my back in Corpse Pose. My eyes survey my childhood bedroom. The Backstreet Boys poster still taped to the wall. The first-place soccer trophy on top of the bookcase. The collage of selfies Charlotte and I had taken over the years. The Georges Seurat painting hanging above my bed. If someone who didn’t know me stepped into my room, he or she would be able to learn about who I am. The things I like, at the very least.
I can’t help but think how much different it looks from TJ’s bare bedroom. No pictures. No artwork. Just the essentials. Maybe that’s how men like it, but my gut tells me there’s more to it than that.
My mind drifts to thoughts of TJ whenever I think about my move. I also think of him before I fall asleep at night, but that’s for a much different reason.
He’s so strong, so self-assured. The man had an answer for everything I’d told him, as if my problems aren’t problems at all. As if everything’s trivial.
Maybe everything is.
Maybe I’ve had it wrong all this time.
Plan A didn’t work out, so now you move on to Plan B.
An idea sparks. I roll up my yoga mat, sit at my desk, and flip to a clean page in my notebook. I scribble a new list:
Plan B
- Move to New York
- Graduate college
- Get a job
- Go sky diving
- Get a tattoo
- Volunteer
