Dear Library Girl

20

Caley

When I came back through the front door, my eyes were dry and my cheeks were hot and a little sore from smiling. They seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. It took less than a second to forget about that when I saw them. Boxes in the hallway. 

"Mom?" I asked, walking at first and then jogging to my mom's bedroom to find her packing more of them. Oh God. Oh my God.

"Caley, you're home! Madeline's done with her room so she started yours for you. Why don't you go help her?"

I stared. "Boxes," I muttered. "Today?"

"If we leave tomorrow we can be back in time for your dad's and my anniversary. Romantic, isn't it?" She was all smiles. The other times, I was too. But this time was different. I was in love with a boy too. And he wasn't in Arizona.

I walked to my room where Madeline was packing my clothes. She sat on the floor pulling hangers off shirts and putting the hangers and clothes into two cardboard boxes. When I walked in, she got up to pull me into a hug. I didn't cry. I'd cried a lot before thinking about when this day was going to come, but now that it was happening, I didn't feel like crying- I felt numb. 

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My fingers packed clothes and books and sheets for me. We packed all night, but I don't remember any of it.

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We didn't have a lot of stuff in our house and we finished packing at around four or five in the morning. Mom and Madeline slept on the floor. I didn't join them; I had only hours left to figure out how I was possibly going to do something I wasn't very good at in the first place: saying goodbye. I was close to grabbing the keys off the empty counter to sneak the suburban out to Tyler's house to tap at his window and break the news, but my plan was flawed in at least three different ways. 1) Even though we'd driven to his house several times, I wasn't 100% sure which street he actually lived on 2) If I saw him again, I might get really emotional and would have to leave knowing I might not see him again and 3) His window was on the second story and I didn't have a very good arm. 

I did something pretty cowardly and kind of selfish, but sometimes I'm a pretty cowardly and selfish person. I found the box with the office supplies and dug out paper and a pen. It took me several times to get it right- or as right as I could possibly could because everything about it seemed so wrong- but when the sun started to come up, I had written a letter- not very long and not very wordy, but honest and on my mom's most expensive stationary. 

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My family- or three fourths of it- packed boxes into our suburban and the tiny u-haul my mom rented. I told my mom I had books to return to the library and walked down the street alone with a few books in my arms and a folded piece of paper tucked between the pages.

I sat on the bench by the door until the librarian, Gail, arrived. It was nearly 8:30; Tyler wouldn't be up for at least a half hour. Gail unlocked the doors, I thanked her and walked in. I walked out a minute later, empty handed.

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You know how when you enter a city or a state the front says "Welcome to Wherever" and the back is the same but it says "You are now leaving Wherever" or "Thank You for visiting Wherever?" Pine doesn't have one of those, so I wasn't really sure where "Pine" ended and "Not Pine" started, but by 9:30 that morning in our ugly brown suburban, I was pretty sure we were in "Not Pine Anymore." 

My dad met us at the driveway with open arms. He'd shaved off his beard and he'd lost some weight. My old room was just as I left it. The Sloanes were 4/4 again.