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He’s the guy I looked up to and called a big brother back then . . . He’s not changed all that much in two years. Has he?
My phone buzzes, and when I see my dad’s name, I answer, knowing I can’t put off talking to my parents much longer.
“Hey, Little One.” Dropping down to my ass, I peel off my shoes and socks, straightening my legs until warm water tickles my toes. “You’ve been avoiding us.”
A small chuckle slips past my lips at his teasing tone, but there’s worry lingering there too, which only makes my stomach drop. “Uh-uh, I’ve been busy. Making friends. Living the college dream.”
“Really?”
“Yup.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but it’s better this way. “I met a girl named Maisie today actually. Is there anything you and Mom want to tell me about her?”
“That is something you need to talk to your mom about,” he answers, chortling to himself. “But don’t be too mad at her. She wanted to make sure you weren’t totally alone before you got a chance to settle in and find your new routine.”
“A heads-up would have been awesome, but you’re lucky she’s nice. I like her, so I guess I have to thank Mom for that one.”
“Maybe don’t,” he says, humming for a beat. “Her head is already big enough.”
“Dad.” I laugh, knowing he’s only joking. The love my parents have for each other is the kind books are written about. It’s true and beautiful—if not also mildly annoying having to be privy to their constant displays of affection.
“Oh, I miss that sound.” He sighs into the line, sadness laced in his voice. “I missyou.”
“I miss you too, Dad. But I need this.”
The water travels over my calves now, submerging them in the sand, and a small smile works its way onto my lips. The beach at night is my safe place. The one place I feel comfort, amongst the water. When the lights go out, the sky darkens, and the beach empties, I find my way there. Watching the sea and the sun set in the distance.
“I know, kiddo,” Dad agrees. “It doesn’t make it any easier though, letting you go.”
“It’s not forever,” I say, though there’s something tickling the back of my mind that tells me while that’s the truth, everything is about to change.
“I hope it is,” he says wistfully. “It’s time, Little One. Time to move on and live your life.”
Tears spring to my eyes, my throat tightening. “Dad.”
“We’ll always be here, waiting for the days you choose to visit home.” Tears roll over my lashes, my chest aching with each word that comes out of his mouth. “But there’s a whole world out there just waiting for you to explore it, and it’s beautiful, Beatrice. You, more than anyone, deserve beautiful.”
“What the hell?” Maisie shouts, stepping farther into my bedroom, her eyes wide with shock, her mouth gaping as she takes in the mess left on the wall. “What happened?”
“Freshman prank,” I grumble, shoving on the sweater I left behind in my car when I drove up here the other day. Maisie scoffs, her eyes locking on the few clothes I had stored in a duffel in my car, luckily the ones I felt too lazy to collect after bringing all my other stuff upstairs.
But there’s not enough there to last a week, let alone a whole semester.
“This is a freshman prank?”
“Apparently so, according to a lovely lady down in administration who very kindly told me they could do nothing for me. Which means I have to go buy paint today and clothes. A whole freakin’ wardrobe of clothes.”
Sighing, I grab my purse, slinging it over one shoulder while I shove my phone in the back pocket of my denim shorts. The same ones I’ve been wearing for well over twenty-four hours now.
“Wanna tag along? It’s not exactly the day of shopping you had in mind, but I’ll drive. Hell, I’ll even chuck in lunch and all the coffee you can drink.”
“Girl, you had me at wardrobe shopping, but I’ll never say no to free food and coffee.” She laughs, wrapping her arm in mine and tugging me to the door.
The hall is a bustle of energy, another round of people moving in ahead of classes starting in two days, but we easily slip past, heading toward the stairs to avoid the queues at the elevator.
A few people stare at me, those that were around to hear my commotion yesterday, but I keep my head high and my gaze forward. For too long I’ve hidden in the shadows, worried about whispers, but I can’t keep doing that, not if I have any plans to survive.
My dad was right. I need to start living. The past can only control you as long as you let it—at least that’s what my therapist tells me—and I’m over my past lingering in the distance, weighing me down.
This is a new start, where nobody knows me or my story. Here at BU, I can be anyone I want. I’m not sure who I am anymore, but I’m eager to find out.
