I sat on the bed and swung my legs, anything to keep myself distracted from the scene in front of me. I tasted bitterness at the back of my tongue but I swallowed it back. Watching Mike as he threw clothes into a suitcase made the situation realer.
I asked Mike if he was nervous about college. Mike just shrugged, said that if he ever became homesick it would be after he realized that things had changed. My nerves emerged to the surface. His answer bothered me. Mike must have been oblivious to everything if he didn’t realize that everything would be different now. Or he was just dense.
My thoughts halted when Mike snapped at me to quit bouncing on his bed. Even though Mike’s tone was harsh, it reminded me of what things used to be like. Now though, I’d get to see him just during the holidays because he was going cross country. His decision angered me. Mike never wanted to stay at home for college but I hadn’t expected him to move so far away.
I reminded him of what he’d said last year, more like accused him of being inconstant for switching his decision from in-state to out-of-state. He ignored me and said something about California being the only state where people travel on planes in-state just to distract me.
It worked, of course, but not for long. He answered my original question, claiming that things were different now.
So he wasn’t dense or oblivious. He just didn’t want to face the reality of the situation.
Melancholy permeated the atmosphere. It was my turn to distract him.
I shared some story about Mike getting airsick and how I didn’t want to help him but ended up doing so anyway.
Mike made a face at the memory but I noticed his mouth curving upward. Then, he said something about planes terrifying him more than college.
I laughed because that was a M