For Richer or For Poorer

Chapter 3: Moving on up to the Westside.

      Well...today was the day.

       With the two days I had left with my friends, we squashed all the bickering and focused on what was really important. Rochelle and I went and got our nails did at her Mom's salon. Ms. Lisa never let her daughter go without her hair or nails did, even when we were younger.

         Rodney's dad, who served in the Navy with my dad, had thrown me a going away cookout yesterday. For the most part, Rodney and I grew up like family. His dad and my dad had service stories that went years back, so they thought of each other like brothers. When Uncle Jean found out I was leaving, he insisted on throwing me a party.

       It felt like the whole neighborhood had shown up to see me off. Half of them had only come for the free food, and the other half only knew me through my dad or my friends. It didn't matter to me why they came. I surprisingly had a really good time and stayed well until almost three o'clock in the morning.

      So, here I was, understandably grumpy at 6:23AM, packing the last of my bags to prepare for my flight. The sun was already out and shining like the rest of the world was wide awake. It was way too early and I was way too tired.

      "Tay-Tay!" My Dad bellowed as he made his way down the hall.

       His feet dragged against the creaky, wooden floor like they were too heavy for him to pick up. I knew before he even turned the corner to enter my room that he was already dressed and ready to go. He was an earlier riser because his years of training in the Navy, now it was more so through force of habit.

       "Morning dad," I let out in between a long yawn.

       "You're not packed yet?" He took in the small pile of clothes I was forcing into my suitcase, "your flight leaves in an hour. We need to go now!"

        He was right. JFK airport was usually very busy. If I planned to make my flight on time, I should've left an hour ago. I wasn't in any hurry to leave and it was safe to say that I didn't care about missing my flight. But with my dad beginning to rush me, I put a move on it and stuffed it all down so I could zip it up.

      I gathered whatever I could hold in my hands and made my way out to the car to load it up. Dad followed after me with the rest and quickly thrusted them into the trunk. Everything felt so rushed all of a sudden that I hardly had the time to get one final look at my room, my house, my neighborhood, before we sped off up the road, toward the busiest freeway in the state.

       As expected, we ran into the thick flow of traffic, but my dad easily weaved through it, making good time. I couldn't help staring at him the whole way there. We never talked about what would happen once I was gone. Though my dad never showed it, I knew this move was hard on him. I was his only child and of course he only wanted what was best for me, but this had to be tough for him. First my mom, and now me. Everybody had left him.

      "Dad?"

      "Yes, honey?" His eyes never left the road.

        "What will you do when I'm gone?"

        "I'm going on another journey across the sea." He made it sound so voluntary and fairytale-like.

        "I know that part, but what are you going to do with yourself? It's just you now in the house by yourself until you leave."

        Finally, my dad turned to face me, still somehow able to weave his way through the traffic.

      "Don't you worry about me Tay. You worry about this tan you're about to get from all the sun." He nudged me in my cheek with his knuckles.