Unravel(47)

I stopped worrying about the big stuff and just enjoyed right now.

Everything was starting to look up.



21—TICK, TICK

Lana was moving into her apartment today.

It was an exciting time for me. For Lana, her fear overrode her excitement. She hadn’t told her parents she was moving out. She was too afraid that they would change her mind. And she was even more afraid that if she did attempt to pack up her stuff, her parents would stop her. She would drive over there with me, but I would do all the packing. I had it all planned out. I would drive to her house while her dad was at work and her mom would be in town, shopping or gossiping over lunch with her friends.

I had a stack of boxes in my trunk and garbage bags just in case I ran out of boxes.

I pulled up to her parents’ house. Six windows on the second floor. Four on the bottom. Each one was spotless and sparkled in the sun. And all of them were flanked with black shutters. The double, front doors were large and imposing. The color of espresso, with wrought iron detailing and frosted glass. Surrounding the house were trimmed shrubs, and running the length of the sidewalk were flowers, the colors ranging from red, yellow, and orange.

It was a picture perfect house. The kind of house you would drive by at night, see the yellow hue of lights inside, and think, ‘I bet that family has it all.’

I got out of my car. As I went to open the trunk, Lana got out of the car and sat on the porch steps. That was how she was sitting the first time I met her. Just ten years ago, she and I had been small girls with two completely different personalities.

“Hey,” I said, as I grabbed a stack of collapsed boxes. “You ready for this?”

She looked at me. “Not even close to ready.”

I walked up the sidewalk and finally saw the white pallor of her skin and the beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

“Just sit here,” I said with a reassuring smile. “I’ll be back down as soon as I can.”

“Okay.” Her voice was hollow.

I walked inside, my hands piled with moving gear, and hurried up the staircase. There was nothing but the sounds of a grandfather clock ticking softly and my quiet footsteps. It was just me and Lana’s ancestors. Their pictures were framed, nailed to the wall. They had somber faces and maybe it was just paranoia kicking in, but I swear their eyes followed me as I walked down the hallway.

The hairs on my arm rose when I walked into Lana’s room. I quickly got to work. I grabbed all the clothes in her closest. Packed up her books, her journal sitting on the nightstand. Her laptop was on the desk. I grabbed it, too. Along with the laptop and phone chargers. Quickly, I went through her desk drawers, making sure I wasn’t leaving behind anything important. I left the pictures on the wall and every piece of furniture there. I only took the things that were personal and had good memories for Lana. Those personal items only filled up three boxes.

I looked back at her room. Anyone passing by wouldn’t notice that she’d moved out. But if someone would step into the room, they’d notice.

As I carried the boxes down the stairs, I wondered who would be the first of Lana’s parents to realize she was gone.

“Done,” I announced.

Lana was still sitting on the steps. She jumped at the sound of my voice. “That was quick.”

“What can I say? I’m a quick packer.”

We loaded the boxes up. I slammed the trunk and looked over at her.

Lana turned back to her house, her expression forlorn. I couldn’t imagine what she was thinking about and I didn’t want to know. What happened in that house should stay there, locked up and never to be experienced again.

I spun my key chain. “Ready?”

“The fifth step from the top is loose.”

The keys hit my knuckles. My eyebrows knitted together. “What?”

“On the staircase. The step’s been loose for six years and I still sometimes trip on it coming up the stairs.” Lana drifted across the grass as if she was in a trance. She stood in front of her bedroom window and pointed. “On the windowsill, in the very right corner, I carved in my initials.”

“Lana—”

“This is all I know and I’m leaving it all behind.”

I walked over to her and stared up at the window with her. “You’re right. You’re leaving it all behind.”

I could feel her eyes on me.

“But you have something so amazing ahead of you. A life where you can make your own decisions. There’s nothing better than that.”

She continued to look at the window. I could clearly see the indecision in her eyes. She was at war with herself.

“You sure you want to go?”

“Yeah.” She took two steps back. “I’m sure,” she said firmly.

We left her house a few minutes later. The further we drove from her parents’ house, the more relaxed she became. A small half-smile appeared on her face.

“What are you going to do for furniture?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Thrift store? I’m not exactly swimming in cash right now.”

“Thrift store sounds good,” I said agreeably.

She didn’t respond. Just watched the endless row of houses fly past us.

“Am I crazy for doing this?” she said quietly.

My fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Not at all.”