Outside the building I stop to check my phone, wishful thinking that maybe Molly will have sent me a text that she’s done early. I’m not surprised when my phone only shows a few notifications for Instagram and a text from my mom asking if I have enough toothpaste.
I send my mom a quick text back, assuring her she left me with three boxes of toothpaste.
The campus is quiet save for the wind softly whistling between the trees planted around. Closing my eyes as I walk, I breathe in the late summer air. Soon, the weather will cool, the leaves will change, and autumn will settle in. Fall is my favorite season, but that doesn’t mean I’m not sad to say goodbye to summer.
With too much time to kill, I decide to check out the buildings my classes are in. I was going to wait until next week, but since I’m here I might as well.
I still manage to make it back to the main building before Molly. She appears five minutes later looking frazzled and more than a little overwhelmed.
“Are you okay?”
She exhales, her lips down turning. “There are too many buildings. I’m going to end up lost on my first day.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“That’s easy for you to say. This kind of thing doesn’t bother you.”
She’s right. I’m the kind of person who, for the most part, lets things roll off my shoulders. If I’m late to class, it’s not the end of the world. Worse things could happen. But to Molly being late is the worst thing. I mean, she was early for her own birth.
“You can always ask someone for directions,” I point out as we walk to the parking lot.
She wrinkles her nose at that and doesn’t say anything. We both know she’s not going to ask anyone anything.
“Where do you want to go for lunch?”
I smile at her. “I know a place.”
“You know,” she looks around the diner, “most people would’ve taken advantage of my offer to pay for lunch. I mean, we could’ve gone to The Cheesecake Factory and you could’ve ordered a whole ass cheesecake that’s like a hundred bucks. Only you would opt for diner food.”
I dip a fry in vinegar and take a bite. “Because diner food is superior. Nothing beats a cheeseburger and fries.”
“Cheesecake does,” she grumbles, pushing her salad around.
I laugh. “I do like a good cheesecake. Maybe we’ll swing by and get some. I mean, we already joke that we’re the Golden Girls so cheesecake is a must.”
“’Picture it: Sicily, 1922,’” she recites, and we dissolve into giggles. “I don’t know why I love that show so much.”
“Me either, but Golden Girls is superior, and you can’t convince me otherwise.”
“In the name of Betty White, amen.” She does the sign of the cross. “I swear that woman is a vampire. I hope she outlives us all. The world ends and it’s just Betty White floating in space still thriving like the Queen she is.”
I snort, wiping the corner of my mouth with a napkin. “She’s a national treasure, that’s for sure.”
Her phone buzzes on the table and she groans. “I love my mom, but she’s texted me five-hundred times today and that’s not even close to an exaggeration. I don’t know how she expects me to get settled and not be homesick if she won’t leave me alone.” Her fingers fly across the screen as she types back a response. “This is my first time ever on my own and she won’t even let me breathe.”
There are telltale tears in her eyes and my stomach feels heavy. I know my parents worry, but my mom isn’t clingy like Molly’s is. I know it’s got to be hard for her, struggling against her own fears with her mom breathing down her neck feeding into it.
“Hey,” I say softly, “it’s going to be fine. Don’t let her rain on your parade.”
She bites her lip. “I’m thinking about going home tonight.”
“Home,” I give a forced laugh, “this is our home now, Molls.”
“I-I know,” she stutters. “But … it’s just a lot, you know? I miss home.”
“It’s been one day!” I scoff and she winces at my pissed off tone, but I can’t help it. She acts like I’m not freaked out by this change too, but at least I’m willing to adjust. “You’re not even giving it a chance and you’re letting your mom feed your fears.”
She frowns, her lower lip trembling. “This is why I didn’t want to say anything.”
I blow out a frustrated breath. “This is a big change for me too. I thought that was why we weren’t doing it alone.”
“I know, but—”
“But you’re still going to go home,” I finish for her.
She worries her lip between her teeth, nodding. “I’m sorry, Emmie.”
I’m mad. Hurt too. But I can’t say I didn’t expect something like this to happen. I guess I just expected it to take longer than … well, we haven’t even officially been moved in twenty-four hours. Jesus Christ.
“We can still get cheesecake,” she suggests in a small voice.
“I don’t want cheesecake,” I snap. I don’t even want to finish the rest of my meal.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats, a begging quality to her tone.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I groan, “I know you are, but I’m mad and I’m allowed to be.”
Sometimes it’s incredibly difficult having a best friend who’s scared of everything, even her own shadow. That’s probably selfish of me, and I’ve always been accommodating of her neurosis but just once I guess I thought we could be each other’s pillars and get through this change together. I shouldn’t be so surprised that I’ll be handling this change on my own, I really shouldn’t, and that’s my fault for having more faith in her than she does herself.
“I’m not hungry anymore,” I announce. “Can we go?”
Her lips part, hurt in her eyes despite the fact she’s the one abandoning me. “Y-Yeah. I’ll go get the check.” She hesitates and my lips thin, because we both know she isn’t going to hunt the waitress down for the check.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I bite out, sliding from the booth.
“Emmie!” She calls after me, pleading, but I don’t stop.
I push through the swinging door, fighting tears. I don’t even know why I’m crying. Dashing the tears away, I brace my hands on one of the porcelain sinks. I guess it’s the reality crashing down on me that things have changed. I’m just as scared of this change as Molly is, the difference is I refuse to run back to mommy and daddy because of it. I want to be stronger than my fears. You can’t conquer them if you don’t even try.
I’m reminded of my promise to myself during graduation—to not be afraid, to push my boundaries. Do what scares me.
And I fucking will.
Starting now.
Chapter Three
Molly throws one last sad smile over her shoulder, wheeling her overnight bag behind her.
“Drive safe,” I say to her retreating figure.
“I will.”