Long-Distance Calls

40

Dear Future,

If I had to pinpoint the exact moment I caved in, I'd be thorn between Tyler's death and the day I asked my parents if we could go to Cleveland.

Oops, spoiler alert.

Well, what would you expect anyway? Ever since I told my mom about Evelyn, I caught her eavesdropping at least once a day. And she had no shame whatsoever in doing that.

She didn't like my relationship with Evelyn and, at that moment, I couldn't quite understand why.

It was an hour before dinner, that chilly evening of mid-April, when I came back home from my day as a third wheel barely saved into a virtual double date.

My father was in front of the TV, as always, laying his weight on the sofa, almost visibly getting older in the tight grip of routine, and my mother was starting to make dinner. Her ever so absent eyes betraying dark shadows of her constantly thoughtful and restless mind.

It took me at least three deep breaths to start talking. The funny thing is none of those deep breaths ever came to its apex. I never fully recovered from the panic attacks. I was still out of breath all the time.

For future reference, you should know I wanted to ask them, but I didn't really want to ask them.

"Mom," I said, voice coming out feeble. I cleared my throat before I went on. "I need to ask you something."

"What, Pete?" she asked. Her not using my full name helped with my confidence a bit.

I thought there was no point in circling around it. I thought I should just slam the main question in her face. And so I did. "Could we go to Cleveland?"

She sighed. "Peter, you have to understand that we don't have the appropriate financial situation to go around having vacations."

"I do understand," I quickly stated, "I can see that from the fact that we never go on a special holiday. And I'm not mad about it. I mean, yeah, it sucks when I go back to school and everyone's like 'oh, I went to Paris' and 'oh, I've been in Madrid', and I'm always like 'nah, I just stayed home'. But it's no biggie— I mean, I can deal with that. But this time. Only this time. I'd like to go somewhere. And it's Cleveland. It's not the Bahamas or whatever. Just plain old Cleveland."

She sighed again. "Listen, I know how you feel. I don't like staying here all summer either. But we can't really do much about that. We just have to live with it. And you don't know anything about Cleveland. I'm not even sure you know anything about this girl you're talking to. So the answer is no."

I started getting mad at this point. "Mom, please. Just— please. I know her. I know her better than anyone else. I know her like family at this point. And I don't have to know Cleveland to go there. She knows it. She'll let me know about it."

"Peter, please," she said.

"Look, it's not even that expensive. I checked the planes. It's affordable. We can do this."

"No, we can't," she shrieked, "we can't go on a plane and fly to another state just for your little fantasy, okay? We can't. So just forget about it."

Her shouting caused my father's appearance in the kitchen. "What is going on here? Why are you shouting."

"He's saying he wants to go to Cleveland," my mom replied.

"Cleveland, Ohio?" my father already hissed.

"Yeah, no, Cleveland Street, London," I joked, "of course Ohio."

"Are you out of your mind?" he said, "Do you even know how much I'd spend for that? At least six hundred dollars!"

"That is bullshit!" I argued. "You'll probably get away with it for three hundred."

"Oh, and that's nothing, right?" he barked. "Why don't you go to work and find out what it means to actually earn money? You'll think twice before you start spending it on pointless crap."

"This is not pointless," I shouted, "this is the least pointless thing I've ever wanted in my life! I've known this girl for four months now and I really think—"

"Four months," my mother declared, "four months! And now what? You want to propose to her? 'Cause, hell, knowing someone online for four months sure is one big achievement."

"Yeah," my father agreed, "how about you fax her an engagement ring and you text her your proposal?"

"Are you two serious right now?" I could feel the tears coming up in my eyes. I rejected them. "You both know how hard it has always been for me to make friends. And now I have a girlfriend. A girlfriend. And just because she's some four hundred miles away, you're insulting me and her. What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with us?" my mother asked rhetorically, "I can't take this seriously. How do you make someone your girlfriend online. You've never seen her. You've never touched her."

"I don't need any of that," I said, "I did see her. We talk a lot. And we know each other more and more every day. And we grow closer and closer together each day. And every time I talk to her, well, I can't help but feel like we were made for each other."

"This is completely, entirely, platonic," my father roared, "and I can't support this idiocy. Get these dumb dreams out of your mind."

I looked over at my mother, as my father headed back to the living room. "Mom," tears now filling my eyes, "please."

"Peter, this is nonsense. You're just fifteen. Almost sixteen, but still. You're supposed to be doing what other kids your age are doing. Having fun with friends. Having lighter relationships. The kinds you have just for fun. These are the best years of your life, don't throw them away by taking things so seriously."

"The best years of my life?" I exploded. "Bullshit. These are so not the best years of my life. They might have been for you, but not for me. For all I know, these might be the worst years of my life. My best years are yet to come. And what kinds of stupid advices are you giving me? Why am I supposed to have those stupid stories? Just because I'm a teenager? I'm not like all others, and thank God, because others suck. Why should I want something worthless just to have a little fun, if I can have the right person now and be with her until the end of times?"

"Peter, you don't know what you're talking about," she said, "don't make me laugh. Keep talking to her, if that's what you really want, but you're not going to Cleveland. Case closed."

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It looks like things are just getting darker and darker for Peter. Will he be able to find the light again and get out of this predicament, or will he drown in it?

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to VOTE and COMMENT if you liked. Until the next one, ta-ta for now!
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