Oblivion (Completed)

Henley

Several Years Ago

"Why do I have to go away?"

Joey is next to me, holding my hand in an airport full of people I don't know. I swing my legs back and forth because they don't touch the ground. She squeezes my hand, but I just keep looking at my feet. I don't want her to see me cry. I'm not a baby. I'm not.

"It'll be okay, sweetie. You'll be home for Thanksgiving soon, and we can make that pie I promised we would this year. You're old enough to help, now," she smiles. Her voice sounds shaky and her eyes sad. I don't think she wants me to know she's crying, either. We're kind of the same like that.

Two days ago, my mom and dad sat across from me at the kitchen table and told me I'm leaving. I'm going away where I'll sleep at school and won't come home unless it's a holiday or summer. I've been on an airplane before, but only to go on vacation and never without Mom or Dad. But everything is different now. I'm six, and Mom says I have to go away to this school because no place around home is good enough, but she doesn't seem sad about it. She didn't even cry when I left with Joey for the airport.

My stomach hurts; I feel like I might throw up. I'm sad and confused, but I'm just a kid and my parents don't listen to me. They helped me pack my things and said I'd love school and will meet a lot of people and make them proud, but they never came to even one of my school programs for Kindergarten, so I don't know if they really mean it. How do they just know I'll be okay? I wonder if they'll forget about me.

"But I don't want to go. I'm afraid," I finally say. "What if no one likes me?"

I finally look up at Joey, because I know I won't see her for a really long time. Her eyes are wet, and brown like mine, and just being with her makes me feel better. She's flying with me and helping me get to the school, then she has to go back. She has to leave me there alone with people I don't know. Strangers.

I feel so sick.

"Oh, honey. That won't happen. They'll love you. You're a good girl and I'll bet you'll make lots of friends before you come home in a few months. I can't wait to hear the stories. You tell such good stories..." she stops and sniffles and swallows hard. She's not very old. She's younger than my Mom and Dad and doesn't have a family of her own, so I like to pretend she's a part of mine.

"But I will miss you," she adds, pushing a few strands of my hair behind my ear and smiling. "Very much." I smile and wrap my arms around her neck, happy she's here.

I don't remember a time without her. She's been with me since the day I was born. She's my best friend, and I love her. I love my parents, but they don't do things with me the way she does. They hardly read me stories or play dolls. And when I cry or I'm sad, she's the one that cheers me up. I'm not sure how I'll make it without her.

Present Day

"Take some time for yourselves. Get settled in," Joey's voice is as soft and reassuring as I remember as she leads up the stairs to the room we'll be staying in tonight. I'm stiff and sore from the long ride in, but my mind is a live wire, thrilled and curious at what this trip will bring. I follow behind her with one hand folded securely in Ryan's, my smile widening when I catch him looking at me out of the corner of his eye.

I'm incredibly grateful for this chance to reconnect with someone who was once a very vital part of my life, and while he knows I cared for her, I'm not sure he'll ever truly know what this means to me. I squeeze his hand once and mouth a very definite I love you as we continue down the hall.

It's every bit as cozy as I would have imagined, with a sweet, light scent of apples floating in the air and collages of framed photos along the wall. I eye them quickly, curious about the memories she's been making since the last time we saw each other. I want to know more, everything actually, but I'm not sure it's my place anymore and I don't want to seem nosy, so I make a note to check them out later on the trip back up tonight. I hope to get the chance to meet her children, and to properly thank her for giving me some of the only good memories I have of my childhood. I want to thank her for being there when no one else was.