Chapter 38

38

The following few days were much the same. Binge watching TV shows and mountains of tissues piling next to me. However, I did make it out of my room for meals thanks to the convincing of my friends. They had come over every day to make sure I got out of bed, had a shower, and came downstairs to eat.

The first day, Dad had given me the widest smile before wrapping me in the comfort of his arms. It felt so nice that I started crying again and he squeezed me tighter.

"I love you, chook. I hate seeing you like this," he whispered into my hair, and I cried harder. "Just know that you won't always feel like this. I've got you until you do."

I tucked my face into his chest and squeezed my eyes shut, my heart squeezing with his words.

"I love you, too, Dad. Thank you."

He made my favourite meal that night and tried his hardest to get me smiling and laughing, and it worked. I didn't think of him that whole evening, surrounded by my friends and my dad.

But as soon as I was back in my room, it all crashed back down on me.

I was grateful for that little bit of relief they gave me, but as soon as I was alone, I couldn't escape the memories.

Those days were on repeat. I would be in bed, staring at the ceiling, absorbed in my memories and overthinking before my friends appeared at my door around noon and pulled me out of my room.

Because of that, midday had become my favourite time. I could smile and laugh until we'd have dinner with Dad. But then, I'd be back in my room, and memories of us laying on my bed, trailing fingers over skin, staring into those forest green eyes would flood my vision, and my chest would ache all over again.

I hated relying so much on them for my happiness. I hated relying on them to pull me out of the darkness.

It had almost been two weeks, and he was still all I thought about. My heart still ached because of him. I felt pathetic and so done crying over him.

My phone pinged from under my pillow one night. Sleep had been evading me so I was thankful for the moment of distraction. I slowly snuck my hand underneath to grab it, the remnants of my exhaustion still fogging my mind.

I opened the email with blurry vision before I wiped my eyes and read. The bold letters immediately caught my attention and it snapped me straight up to sit in bed.

I'd forgotten I had sent the application in. It was kind of a random chance that I sent in just to see what happened. A random afternoon I had been researching photography careers and stumbled upon this college.

I thought I had bombed the interview I had a few weeks ago because I was sorely unprepared.

But I got in.

A small noise came from the back of my throat as I read the whole email and excitement bubbled within my chest.

The only catch was that it was in Melbourne. It was a whole two states away and I wasn't sure how it would go over with my family, especially Dad. But it was my ticket to freedom. For that past week, I'd been wanting to get out of this town and away from all the reminders of him, but I couldn't just up and leave, knowing it would worry Dad even more than he was. So, this opportunity landing in my lap was like the golden ticket I had been wishing for. It gave me a reason — other than a broken heart — to leave this place in my rearview mirrors. A fresh start in a place where I could heal my heart in silence.

It may have seemed impulsive, especially when I knew absolutely no one in Melbourne, but I didn't care. I grabbed hold of that opportunity and let it lead me away.

After a night of tossing and turning, my mind rolling over the reasons this move would be good for me and reasons why it was too ridiculous to think about, I resolved that I would run it over with Mum. If she had really turned over a new leaf and was really wanting to try, she would tell me the truth, if this was worth it or not.

I pulled myself out of bed that morning, a feat that I would have been proud of myself on any other day but my mind was elsewhere, determined and ready for however this conversation would go.

I texted her after I got dressed and she messaged back immediately which was a good start. It was a Saturday, so I wasn't trusting just from that interaction that she was a changed woman.

It was the first time in over a year that I was going to her apartment. I didn't expect much to change. Mum was a woman who liked consistency and control. The last time I stepped inside her home, it was cold and bare. It looked like a showroom with decor instead of family pictures, and sterile instead of warm aromas.

But when she answered her door and invited me in, I was shocked. Pictures of Nate and I as kids stared back at me along the walls of the entryway. It smelled fresh with hints of cinnamon in the air. She swapped out some of her white and expensive-looking furniture for ones of comfort instead.

It looked like a home.

I followed her as she walked to the kitchen, turning on the kettle before turning to me.

"Coffee?"

I nodded. "Please."

She stirred a couple of mugs before we took a seat in the lounge room, sinking into the cotton cushions.

We took a sip of our coffees simultaneously before she focused on me.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

I focused on my hands wrapped around my mug. Nerves coming to the surface even after my mental preparation.

I took a deep breath before starting. "I know you said photography would get me nowhere, but I came across this course that's more hands-on, and it has a lot of opportunities for travel, or advertising, or having my art hung in galleries across the world. There are a lot of connections, and it would help a lot with finding myself, and my passions, I think. Anyway, I was wanting your advice if, hypothetically, I were to get accepted and move to Melbourne?"

My rant came out in a rush, getting it out and done almost in one breath. I couldn't look at her as I waited for her answer, my gut twisting in the long silence.

Then she sighed and every muscle in my body tensed. But what came out of her mouth was the opposite of what I was expecting.

"I think you should go for it. If, hypothetically, that is what you wanted, then I would support it. Not only for the opportunities available but for the experience. I want you to be happy and if this is what you need to find yourself then I say, you'd be stupid not to go."

I looked at her then and she offered me a small smile before she scooted closer, folding my hands between hers.

"I know I've been hard on you, but I really am trying. I see now how suffocating I was to both of you kids. I was just afraid of you seeing how awful this world really can be. But I know I can't protect you from it all."

I smiled and it was like she had lifted a whole huge weight off my chest. I wanted to crawl into her lap and just let all of the heartache and pain I had been suffering for the past two weeks lay on her carpeted floors. But I couldn't let myself take that leap yet. So, I settled with a squeeze of her hands and relished in the feeling of having a mother again.

It felt right. It felt good.

It felt like maybe my life didn't just end with my first broken heart.

I got home around noon and prepared for how to break the news to Dad. It had me more nervous than I was with Mum.

At dinner that night, I told him the news. He didn't take it that well.

He was excited about the opportunity for me, but he was concerned about me up and moving to Melbourne where I knew no one, and rightfully so. I mean even I knew deep in my mind that it was crazy. I just didn't want to admit it.

"I thought you liked it here. Does this have anything to do with the past two weeks?" He questioned carefully, eyes pleading with me to let him in, but I didn't want to burden him with my teenage problems and my broken heart. And to be honest, I was too embarrassed to have fallen in love with someone who didn't love me back.

"I do like it here, Dad," I lied. At least, I did before Reece happened. "But this is an amazing program that could lead to so many opportunities after. I could travel, you could see my art in galleries, you could see my photos in magazines one day. Who knows where it could lead."

He watched me for a moment, his eyes tracing over my features that I know looked forced but did have a tiny bit of true excitement in it.

Then he smiled, and hope bloomed within me.

"If this is what makes you happy, then I'll support it. I mean, it would be a bit hypocritical of me to say no when Nate moved up North for Uni," he chuckled. "But you're my baby girl, and you don't know anyone there. It's a big city, Dakota. You sure you want to do this?"

I wrapped my arms around him. "I'm a hundred percent sure," I said before letting go of him and sitting back. "Plus, I'll meet new people, and I'll stay in hotels until I find somewhere to live."

And that was when something clicked in my head and a memory came back to me from the week in Airlie Beach.

Daniel.

I still had his number sitting untouched in my contacts on my phone. I hadn't even thought about him since that night. Didn't see him past that night either.

But I remember his offer to show me around Melbourne. It was probably a crazy idea to get in contact with him when he probably didn't even remember me, but I could use a familiar face in a new city.

Dad's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "I could ask one of my buddies if their daughter still lives there. Maybe I could connect you, and you wouldn't have to pay so much for hotel rooms?"

My eyes lit up. "Yes, please. That would be amazing."

Dad ruffled my hair before I smacked his hand away. "Okay, I'll let you know what happens."

Another week and a half passed, and all my belongings were packed into various suitcases, ready for my flight out at midday. My stomach swirled with nerves, and tears had been lining my eyes since I finished packing and took a step back to look at my room.

It felt like I was running. Running from everything that scared me. Running from everything that haunted me. I hated myself for it. But it was my only option to escape these memories. I didn't want to be drowning in them anymore.

Dad got in contact with his friend, and his daughter was happy to help me, letting me take her spare room until I found somewhere for myself. He sent me her number, and we'd been chatting all week, getting to know each other. She would be picking me up from the airport when I landed late afternoon. It was relieving not to have that intense pressure on my shoulders, but I didn't want to be in her hair for any longer than I had to be.

My first class would start the week after my move and it all felt like it was moving so fast. In a split-second decision, my life felt like it was travelling faster than I could even keep up with. In a matter of weeks I'd gone from being content, to having my heart broken and moping about, to packing up my life and moving to a different state. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

My childhood room looked as if it had been stripped bare, only the essentials standing tall. My bed, desk, bookshelf, and wardrobe sat in their original position, but all my books, clothes, laptop, and other accessories had been packed to the brim into the four suitcases downstairs. It was like letting go of part of myself, burying a part of my heart between the floorboards of the room with whispers of my memories dancing around like ghosts.

I shut the door behind me, breaking the connection and forcing myself to take a breath.

Time seemed to move slowly then during the drive to the airport and it seemed like deja vu. Both times that I had been driven to the airport that summer had been pivotal moments in my life. Three months ago had been the start of me discovering myself. The drive now, as we approached the middle of February, was the end and start of an era. My first experience of love and my first heartbreak. Me finally moving out of home and living on my own. Me finally knowing and working towards my goals and dreams.

Half an hour later, Dad pulled up at the airport and I sat there for a moment, my body not willing to get out of the car just yet. Like I was waiting for something that I knew wouldn't come. To see the one person that could stop me from leaving, running towards me and begging me to stay with apologies spilling from his lips.

Dad reached over the console and squeezed my forearm, snapping me from my thoughts and making me look over at him. His smile was comforting but also tinged with a little sadness. "You okay?"

I nodded as I inhaled a deep breath. "Yeah. It's just nerves. This is a big move."

He sighed. "Yeah, it is. And I'm going to miss you so much. You better come visit often, or I'll be chasing you to Melbourne."

I laughed. "I promise to stay in contact with you. At least a message a week." I avoided the mention of visiting because I wasn't sure when I'd be able to bravely face home again.

He hummed. "Once a day?"

My lips twitched as I held in another laugh. He was negotiating. "Twice a week."

He rolled his eyes, but a smile broke free. "Fine. I'll live with that." His expression slowly fell to a more somber one as he nodded to the back where my bags were loaded. I swore I saw his eyes start to water, but he looked away before I could tell. "Come on. Let's unload your things."

He was out of the car the next moment and I felt bad for leaving him on such short notice. I was his youngest, and now he had the house to himself for the first time in a long time. I couldn't tell if he was happy or sad about that prospect.

I wiped my sweaty palms against my thigh-length jeans, feeling my heart pound against my chest now that I was finally here. I felt wholly unprepared and wanted to claw back to my life before this. But this is what I wanted. This is how it has to be for both my healing and to chase my dreams.

I followed him out, my bags already piled next to the car on the pathway as he came back with a cart to place them on for me to easily transport them to check in. We loaded them in silence before he stepped back. He held his arms out for me, and I fell into his open embrace. His arms squeezed around me, and I didn't want him to let go. If only I could forever have his hand in mine, guiding my way through life.

"You've grown up so fast, Dakota. Where has the time gone?" he mumbled against my hair, pressing a kiss there. I buried further into his embrace, tears pinching at the corner of my eye. "I'll miss you so much, but I'm so, so proud of you, chook. All I've ever wanted for you is to be happy."

God, that might have been more painful than having my heart broken. It was a close judgment.

Two lone tears sprung from my eyes as I quickly wiped them away.

He pulled away, holding my face between his hands, his eyes definitely watering at that point, with a few tear stains down his cheek. "Love you, chook."

"Love you too, Dad," I smiled wobbly before sniffling and pulling away.

He cleared his throat and waved his arm towards my suitcases. "Alright, well, you better get to your plane, check-in, whatever. You don't want to be late."

I waved him off as he drove away, and I took a deep breath.

The next hour was a blur. From checking in to going through security and then boarding the plane. Everything had been in slow motion until the moment I got that email and now, here I was, stepping through the airport doors, wishing for those slow moments back.

I nervously fumbled with the seat belt strapped across my waist as other people brushed past me to get to their seats. My eyes fleeted over each face, wondering if, by some miracle and in my imagination, I could find that one familiar face I still yearned to see.

It was almost like I could see it clearly. As if he was actually there, standing at the front of the plane out of breath and a little sweaty. His eyes would be crazed and wild, searching for me through every seat of the plane before they landed on me in the midsection and it would be like the relief lifted this weight off his shoulders.

He'd race up to me, dropping to his knees, and beg for my forgiveness. Beg me to stay. And I would in a heartbeat. I'd exit the plane, knowing he held my heart. I'd follow him anywhere.

But it wasn't real. Of course, it wasn't. He would never beg me. Never fight for me. He never had before. Why would he now?

And so I swallowed back the tears threatening to spill in front of all those strangers and messaged the one person I hadn't been game to message since I got his number, hoping for a fresh start.

This would be good for me. I'd be able to forget all my mistakes and him and start over. Maybe this was all just an overreaction, and I could laugh about how stupid and naive I was in the future. I'd find love again, and I'd be happy.

I could do that, couldn't I?