Chapter Fifty-One

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"I did it all. I owned every second that this world could give, I saw so many places, the things that I did, and with every broken bone, I swear, I lived." --"I Lived" by One Republic 

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ON MY FINAL DAY, THE REST OF THE FAMILY STAYED HOME. They waved goodbye from me at the porch, and all of them nearly broke my back at how hard they hugged me. Angie had buried her face into my hair and doted at how their house would forever be mine too. Uncle Terrence gave me a firm squeeze and told me that regardless, I was already part of this family. Little Payton snuck something into my backpack hastily and sloppily wrapped in Christmas wrapping, strangely in the shape of a toy My Little Pony, before she kissed me on both cheeks.

Tess was the second hardest to say goodbye to. Her eyes said it all; she wanted to come with me on the ride to the airport, but she also wanted me to be alone with Elliot. Looking at her, almost sixteen years old in a month, she had turned into someone completely different from that girl who shielded her face from me with her phone when I first met her. I hugged her tightly and she was sniffing.

“Stay safe, wherever you go,” she muttered into my shoulder, her grip tightening. “And don’t be afraid anymore, ‘kay?”

“’Kay,” I had said to her, closing my eyes tightly. After Kara had left for LSU and I went to Duke, Tess was as close to being my best friend than anyone else. She was so much like Elliot.

Maybe you could guess the first person that was the hardest to say goodbye to.

I had barely gotten out of the Navigator at the airport if Elliot hadn’t pushed me to open the passenger door. I just couldn't do it. He carried my bags even if I had argued against it, and his hand was wrapped tightly around mine as I walked to the baggage check. This airport was unfamiliar to me, even with all the big daunting signs instructing me where to go. But to Elliot, it was like the blueprint of the place was embedded into his brain because he led me through the airport with ease, never letting go of my hand. I was glad he was here with me. 

When I had gotten my suitcase tagged and weighed, I was almost drowning in the amount of sweat my palms carried. It was as if they we were weeping before I could. I was holding my ticket in one hand, and it was already getting damp, the printed ink threatening to become blurry. Saying goodbye to Elliot was impossible, which was why I wouldn’t be doing it. I tried to push away the lingering and pestering thought that I wouldn't see Elliot in person in two years; he'd leave for Denmark at the end of December, and my next volunteer project starts in January. No, I decided I wouldn't say the word 'goodbye' at all. 

We were standing at the security gate. My direct flight to Los Angeles, California would be departing in thirty minutes, but they requested passengers to come inside the plane in ten.

Ten minutes with him wasn’t enough.

Elliot was standing stiffly, my sweaty hand encased in his firm, steady one. I was shaking, he was still. I was sweating, he was calm.

“I can’t believe that when I finally get to kiss you whenever I want, I won’t be there to do it,” he forced a nervous laugh, his eyes flitting all over my face. He was nervous, his eyes said it all.

When I didn’t say anything, when I couldn’t say anything, he said, “Are you ready? Your plane’s leaving soon.”

I shook my head slowly, then quickly, feeling the backs of my eyes burning. I so desperately wanted not to act like a sobbing banshee at the airport, but it was less of a success than the Titanic.

“Hey,” he whispered at me. “Hey, hey, hey.”

“What?”

“Don’t cry,” he steadied me, placing both hands on my waist, then moving them to my cheeks. They were shaking a little bit on my skin. He pulled on a smile, and he looked beyond handsome. “I made you cry once, and that in itself was a shite feeling. Seriously. Don’t cry, Vienna Sausage. Not over me.”

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