MOVING DAY
Angel's Pov
I sit up after Andrew leaves, staring at the spot he was just standing at.
It was a little strange to just come to my room in the middle of the night, telling me to get out. I don't understand it. We were sharing a meal just hours ago and he called himself my friend. What happened from them till now?
And something happened, I know. I can't explain it, but I can feel it. He was jittery, kept scanning the room while he was here and he held himself so stiffly.
And the way he stood at the door, as if he was blocking it. . . Was he? Was he blocking me from leaving? That can't be right, he came here to tell me to pack it up.
‘Tell me what you're thinking?’ he'd said.
What else could I be thinking?
I don't want this. I’ve told you I don't want to live on my own. Why are you pushing me out, so suddenly? What happened? Did I do something?
But how utterly pathetic it would have been to say that, especially after I’d already I already admitted deep feelings on a wrong opinion on my hair.
I couldn’t.
I wouldn't.
Besides he'd already made up his mind.
But that's okay, I guess. He's well within his rights, it's his house.
He might have taken responsibility for me because of the crash but he's not responsible for my every emotion. I'm a grown person, and I might be a little lost right now but I should start acting like it.
And besides he's not sending me out to live on the streets, I'm just relocating. So really, I have nothing to whine about.
It's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine.
I fluff my pillow and lay down. It takes a while but I do fall asleep, although I stay in bed for a few minutes later than I usually do when the sun rises the next day.
I go downstairs to find him and Anna having breakfast. She beams upon seeing me, gesturing for me to make a plate meanwhile Andrew puts down his spoon.
I didn't dare hope that he'd change his mind and he didn't. He tells Anna about his decision. My back is to them when he does. Anna gasps at the news. “What?”
“And she’s moving out today,” he say, keeping his voice steady, matter-of-fact. I'm stay facing away, pretending to still be making a plate.
“Today? Andrew, that’s… fast. What's going on?”
And something is going on.
Andrew is still not himself. His eyes are heavy and dark and he sits like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, like if he untenses a muscle everything will fall apart around him.
“It’s what’s best, Anna. Trust me. You know I won't let something happen to her.”
He's talking to Anna, facing her but I have a feeling he's also talking to me. Here, I turn around and take a seat opposite him, almost like we did yesterday.
Anna is gearing up to argue but it's a lost cause. We see the way his hands are clenched tightly around nothing, the tremor in his jaw. More than ever, I'm sure something happened. And I'm even more sure that Andrew doesn't want to talk about it.
She exhales, knowing she's defeated, especially as I've already accepted it. “Okay.”
\---
I doesn’t own much after my dresses. Anna gently, slowly folds into a red suitcase she lent me. My lava lamp, humidifier and two pairs of flats as well as other random bits follow into a smaller carryon.
“You know I was going to get you more shoes, maybe even some makeup and jewelry, and anything else you need this weekend. I wanted to take you with me,” Anna says out of the blue, the first words we spoke since we started the packing.
“That's very lovely, Anna, thank you.” And I mean it.
“I told Andrew about it, told him it's so that you'd be comfortable here. He said that was a good idea, that he'd give me his card. So why is he doing this all of a sudden?”
Anna zips the bag shut. We're done. I don't look at her because I feel like I may start to cry. “It's for the best,” I parrot sarcastically. Whatever that means.
“I'll come visit immediately,” Anna says, hugging me. I hug her back and I don't let go for a long time. “Let me take these down.”
Anna grabs the suitcase and carryon, taking them out of the room. I'm about to follow when I remember something.
I go to my nightstand and open the top drawer. I shove my hand to the back, fishing. My fingertips brush against cool metal, the pendant I brought home with me from the hospital.
I lift it out, the sight of it unfamiliar but comforting. It's proof of my old life, the one I hope to get back to soon and it's proof I survived. I put it into the pocket of the dress I'm wearing now, a long, green one with droopy sleeves. A blush-coloured, chiffon scarf is draped over my neck.
With the pendant tucked away, I take one last look around. The big wooden bed, the light blue walls, the window that faces the backyard vegetable patch. I don't know why I'm sad. It was never really mine. I knew that.
I guess I just didn't expect to leave so soon.
When I reach the bottom of the stairs, Andrew’s nowhere to be seen. I stand there for a moment, feelings of disappointment trickling into me. Maybe that's why I don't see a man in a crisp black suit, until he touches my elbow, startling me.
He gives me a polite smile. “I’m sorry about that, Miss Angel. This way, please.”
He takes hold of my bags, rolling them to the door. Anna appears from the kitchen, a sad smile pulling at her lips. “He’s from the moving company. They’re here already.”
I nod. “Bye, Anna.”
“No this isn't goodbye, Angel,” she sniffs, hugging me again. “I told you, I'll come see you literally tomorrow.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I'm glad that at least someone else is sad about this, and came to see me leave.
Maybe Adam isn't here because he sees this as a ‘see you later’, not as a ‘goodbye’ like Anna said. Although she still did come to see me off.
So many maybes.
I follow the man out. Instead of a truck, there's a sleek car parked outside, one that looks like it could belong to Andrew. Maybe he told them I didn't have stuff to move and offered them
a car.
I settle into the backseat, the leather is cold against my legs.
The man starts the car.