We sat on the front steps of my house, each of us with an envelope from Stanford in our hands. Too anxious to say anything we sat there in silence just staring at the envelopes.
“Should we open them?” I asked Sara.
“I’m nervous though.” She answered.
“Count of three? Ready…” We glanced at each other before I counted down. At the same time we ripped the seal and fumbled with paperwork to get to the letter.
We here at Stanford University would like to inform you of your acceptance to our Music Department here at the University.
My jaw drops at the words that I’ve now read over in my head fifteen times. I can’t believe that I have made it into the college of my dreams. The college that myself and Sara have dreamed of for years. I can’t wait to go off to California with my best friend and start our lives together.
The small sigh I hear from next to me stops my thoughts and I look over to Sara as she starts to talk.
“We here at Stanford University regret to inform you that your application has been declined.” She reads off of the paper in her hands.
Her hands drop to her lap and I can see the disappointment etched in her face. I don’t say anything to her, but I place my hand on her knee and give it a tight squeeze to reassure her that I was there for her.
I look to her and see a small tear run down her cheek. “Sar-“
“Just stop. I’m fine.” She says as she stands up increasing the space between us. I stay put in my spot on the front steps as I watch her pace back and forth in front of me. “Did you get in?” She stops and asks me.
I drop my gaze from her and fold the letter back up to slide into the envelope. I wait a moment, trying to figure out how to say what I was going to say. “No.”
I drop the envelope on the stairs and with three long strides I was over to Sara and wrapped her in my arms. “We’ll make it here. New York needs a couple of knobs like us.” I smiled as I hear her laughing. “Lets go.”
I keep her in a side hug while we walk up the steps, me leaning down to grab my letter on the way. As we walk through the doors she suggests Chinese takeout for dinner and I don’t object.
“Can you call and order? I’m going to take a shower before.” I ask.
“Yeah that’s fine.” She agrees from the drawer that is full of menus. I walk to my room gathering my clothes before going to the bathroom and turning on the shower.
Sara.
“20 minutes? Thank you.” I say to the woman on the other end of the phone. I get up from my seat at the kitchen table and put the menu back. I walk aimlessly around his kitchen and family room until I see the letters sitting on the counter next to his car keys.
I pull the letter out of the envelope a second time just to assure that the outcome was correct. I set the envelope down and unfold the letter. ‘We here at Stanford University would like to inform you of your acceptance to our Music Department here at the University.’
Acceptance?
Music Department?
I look back to the top of the letter ‘Dear Harold Styles’. Harry got in? He told me that he wasn’t accepted, but why would he lie about that?
“Hey, how long till din? I’m starving.” His voice rings through the kitchen.
“Why?” I ask him, my back still turned to him and the letter still in my hand.
“Well usually when you don’t eat for awhile you tend-“ He tries to be smart with me but I cut him off, getting to the point.
“Why did you lie?” I turn around and hold the letter up. “Harry this is good. You made it! You can leave this town. You can go!” I try to stay strong but the tear that falls brakes me act.
He walks towards me with arms outstretched but I back away from him. I am happy for him I really am, but I’m also angry and I don’t know why. Every emotion I have is all jumbled and my anxiety is rising the more I think about this situation at hand.
“Sara please…” He keeps coming towards me but I continue to back away.
“I can’t. I don’t want to do this.” I push past him and rush out the front door, running to my house at full speed.
I run to the bathroom with full intention of hurting myself. My back slides down the door and I hit the ground hard, tears covering my face.
I pull myself together long enough to think about Harry and how I shouldn’t do it because of him. I will hurt Harry if I do this to myself. I can’t do this because I won’t be the only one affected anymore.
But it’s when I see the small splat of blood left on the floor from days before near the toilet base that I can’t keep myself together any longer.
I riffle through the drawers of the bathroom looking for the blades that are hidden but come up short. ‘He must have gotten rid of them.’ I think to myself. Little did he know that I was a pro at taking apart the cheap razors I used to shave my legs.
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ahh! Two updates on a story in one day!? This is not like me!! Lol
How about 2 comments and 2 votes until the next update? :) xx
