UNEDITED
Not all storms come to disrupt your life, some come to clear your path.
Those are the words that Justin McCallister has been repeating in his mind since the day he was diagnosed with a non-cancerous brain tumour that's been causing partial...
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Justin
I toss the crumpled piece of paper across my bedroom.
I'm frustrated.
For the past week, through Christmas and visiting family members, I've been trying to plan out how I'm going to tell Addie everything that's happened in my life. And I've been doing that by trying to write it out. I suck at speaking. But writing, well, let's just say there's a reason I have nearly a perfect mark in English and spend my free time writing short stories.
It's just that no matter how hard I try to make sense of things and sort them into an orderly line, I can't do it. My life has been a blur of misconceptions, betrayals that have nearly cost me my life, and unfortunate events that I can't make sense of it. I feel like I'm caught in an eddy; one moment I'm so close to getting it right, to doing the story of my life justice, and then I'm suddenly pulled back into the middle, stuck pondering over the small details that mean nothing to other people but everything to me.
My pen is the next thing that's tossed. To clear my mind a little, I get up off my bed and stretch my legs, walking over to the open window. It's surprisingly warm for the end of December, but I'm not complaining. I hate cold weather and this feels like spring.
I lean against the windowsill and take a deep breath of the fresh air, tugging my sweater closer to my body. My bedroom window overlooks our backyard, which isn't much other than a medium-sized patch of grass surrounded by some hedges that give us decent privacy. And though I can't see it from my window, I know the hot tub is sitting beneath the deck.
Thinking about the hot tub, I realize that it would probably be beneficial for me to actually get out of my bedroom and do something other than waste paper. Maybe the steamy air and warm water will clear my mind and I'll be able to figure something out for me to read off of when I talk to Addie.
Addie.
With each day that's passed, my longing for Addie has become stronger. I miss her laugh, her smile, her presence. I miss how things were before she found out. Before I ruined what we had.
She didn't deserve to be treated badly. She's never done anything to me to deserve that. Addie made her decisions based on what she knew. I should be thankful that she didn't freeze and do nothing, or turn a blind eye. It means she cares about me. And though I'm scared I've left this too long, I'm still going to talk to her.
I glance at my notebook again, the one that barely has any sheets of paper left because of how many times I've had to restart.
I need to figure this out as soon as possible because I know that the longer I stay away from her, the harder it's going to be for me to make things right. I haven't called or texted her. I've ignored everything she's sent to me. Rejected her calls. I can only imagine what she thinks of me right now.
All I can do is hope that she understands why I've backed off. My life is a complicated disaster and I know I need to get the story right when I talk to her.
Although I dread sitting down on my bed and picking up my pen again, that's exactly what I do.
Except, this time, I don't try and write it in the style that one would write a speech in. Instead, I do point form, noting each and every event that contributed to what has happened.
After about twenty or so minutes of writing, I feel as though I have everything that needs to be said written down, along with some extra details. Satisfied enough, I set my notebook and pen down on the nightstand and decide that it's time to get out of my pyjamas and do something with myself.
When I'm brushing my teeth, dressed in jeans and a clean sweater, I hear the doorbell ring downstairs. I frown to myself. Unless Chris invited some of his friends over or people are going around collecting donations for the Food Bank, we aren't expecting anyone.
Shrugging to myself, I head back into my bedroom and begin cleaning up the mess I've left behind. Whoever is at the door can't possibly be looking for me.
It takes less than a minute to stuff the crumpled pieces of paper into the trash can, so when I'm done, I decide that I'm going to read a couple chapters of my book before I talk to my mom about taking me to Addie's house so I can talk to her.
I don't know if she'll welcome me or not, but I have to at least try.
She did what she thought was right, and I owe it to her to do the same.
