Becoming Jasmine Star 16 A Day To Remember Pt.2

It's been two years since the first and last time I truly ever spoke to Alex Grant. Since that time, a lot has happened. And I wished, in those moments, I had someone to share what I was going through with. Someone who couldn't see me directly. After that catastrophe, my parents decided to finally take the dive and scheduled a session with a family therapist. I remember on the first session, just out of nowhere, my mom broke down in tears. Our therapist, Dr. Bowman, stopped his piece, as all of us stared at her, not knowing what to do. I, in all my sixteen years, have never heard my mother cry. I only seen her.

Once from when I was young, and it was from behind. Her shoulders heaved and her body trembled, as if she was trying to hold the world on them, as she stood in front of the kitchen sink. Not once did she make a single sound. I nervously peered at Dr.Bowman for guidance.

He just gave me a little motion with his hand, as if to say, "Comfort her." I forced myself to fight the weight holding me in the soft comfortable couch cushions, as the embarra.s.sment of looking for a stranger's a.s.sistance to comfort my own mom sunk in.

'Do I pat her shoulder? Do I hug her?'

I was thrown into a situation I was never faced with before and my mind was spinning.

Finally, the most awkward hug ensued.

As my family held each other in one big uncomfortable huddle of tears like our lives depended on it. For me, it felt as if time itself stopped. For the first time in a long time I needed to be there. Not physically, but emotionally. That day, under the guidance of our therapist, we took the first step of becoming a family.

But, even if we don't want it too, time goes on.

The more time progresses, the more distorted things become. My once normal life became so far away, as I was thrown into this new world.

"Good morning...Sleep well?"

One day, my father was first to be at the breakfast table. He was drinking a mug of coffee, still in his fuzzy robe. One might not understand how hard it is to say those words, "Good morning" to someone. It's something so simple, some people can even say it without even thinking of it. But for us, simple words were always premeditated.

"G-good morning"

I responded, still nervously lingering on the stairs.

My father opened his mouth, to say something I think. But in the end, just took a swig from his mug as I left the house to go on my morning walk. I had to gain my parents trust so I could go on walks alone again. Honestly, I couldn't blame them. I did my best to show my parents that I wouldn't act out again. That I could become apart of this "new and functioning" family. With time I started to see a glimmer of light in my mother's eyes and the silence is slowly getting replaced with living noises. The TV is on, dishes are clinking in the kitchen, the small awkward murmurs of us desperately searching for a connection are all there.

For a while, I didn't want to come to terms with the fact that we may never have those typical 'Sunday dinners' that other family's have.

I was forced to face that we're still different from everyone else. What may work for others, won't work for someone else. As stupid and cliche that sounds. A big part of therapy was to get over the fact that such cliches are, or could be fact.

So, what worked for us?

"What college do you plan on going to when you graduate girls?"

I remember My father asking me that as we all sat in the den, each of us doing our own thing, but at least still together.

"Uuuummm"

"I think Yale might be a good fit."

My father optimistically stated.

"Hah! I'm too dumb."

The room became silent as my statement settled around like a bad joke gone ignored.

"Nonsense. You're too smart to not make it to an Ivy League."

I inwardly laugh at their joke. They must've forgotten what my grades looked like.

But they didn't care.

And in two years I was opening an acceptance letter.

Well, not to Yale, or any Ivy Leagues for that matter. But to a community college, just an hour drive from our home.

"They don't know potential when they see it!"

My parents pretended to be angry, but deep down they knew they raised a stupid daughter.

That fall, I was moving into a dorm with all the other freshmen. I was majoring in cinematography and that's all I could ever ask for.

Friday, November 16, 2018

I raced across the campus grounds, as the wind threatened to ruin my decent looking hair. I shiver in my Corduroy jacket for the umpteenth time, and I tried to look like I'm not miserable in this cold, but so far, I feel like I'm failing.

'Just a bit further. Warmth is waiting for you just around the corner.'

Winter seemingly came early this year and my fall wardrobe was obviously not antic.i.p.ating it.

"Hey Sam, wait up!"

I turn around to see Robin doing a similar speed walk towards me. We have the same major in common and that somehow makes us friends.

I don't make the rules I just follow them.

Robin is the fun hyper-type, that one either loves, or hates. He calls her professors by name, he's never shy or embarra.s.sed by his crude way of speaking, and attended every university party since Uni started.

He's is the complete opposite of me. And somehow, that makes me feel at ease.

"Hey, Sam. You're still going to that gathering tonight. Right?"

His long strides quickly caught up with mine and we continued walking.

"Huh? Yeah, I said I would."

He smiles. Glad that he wasn't dropped last minute. His smile still reminds me of a cheeky schoolboy, who's full of games and mischievous jokes to play on his poor teacher.

"Okay. See you then!"

He says, as he see's a couple of his more familiar friends and rushes off to speak with them.

I make it back to the dorm and fall face first onto my bed.

***

Friday, November 16, 2018

11:47 p.m.

I sit in a corner, silently sipping my drink, as I watch the anarchy unfold. The seemingly tame get together of almost-adults I have arrived to, became something else entirely. I'm sure that half of us here a gallon too much to drink. Loud laughing and endless chatter fills the room, as I search for Robin. Who I lost sight of only a few moments ago. A girl went from singing to yelling "Cry me a River" at the whole room, and my head is starting to buzz.

I look around for Robin one last time. Before someone slipped into the seat next to me. Taking me by surprise.

I immediately spewed out the words Robin told me to say in these predicaments.

"My friend just left to use the restroom, I'm saving this seat."

"Really? Than I'll keep you company while you wait."

My train of thought freezes. I wasn't expecting such a quick and sly answer.

I glance up at the person, he had a friendly smile on his face, the way he carried herself wasn't intimidating, and his black hair was wild, in a way that would make a girl go mad.

"Ummm, okay."

"Great!"

"My names Glenn, what's yours?"

"...Samantha."

"That's a pretty name."

I inwardly roll my eyes at his unoriginal compliment, but smile anyways.

"Thanks"

"I was just stating a fact."
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He scoots closer and I can feel his breath on me. The dizzying smell of alcohol fills my nostrils.

"Sorry I took forever! The bathroom was backed up."

I look up at Robin. The feeling of betrayal was clear on my face. Glenn finally shifted his attention to Robin.

"Oh, so you're the friend?"

"Yeah, were you looking for me?"

Robin towered over the both of us, his usually warm smile felt like it was hiding an icy interior.

"No. She just looked bored sitting alone, so I was keeping her company."

"Thanks for that. Sam, d'you want to dance?"

"Sure"

***

1:00 a.m.

After our dance that turned into a hours of mindless fun. Robin and I made it out to the cold sidewalk, just in time for a blistering wind to attack us. The both of us stood outside, waiting for our cab to appear. I shrink even deeper in my coat when I see Robin just standing there with his jacket unb.u.t.toned, leaning forwards to see if there's any cars on the road like it was nothing. I hide from the wind behind his tall stature, and shakily pull out my phone to distract myself.

"Oh that reminds me! I didn't get your contacts."

I glance up and was greeted by his cheeky smile once again.

I suddenly felt warmer, remembering our dance, as he took my phone and added himself to my contacts list.

My chest felt weird and I forgot to breathe.

"Here. Call me whenever you wanna hang out."

"Sure, maybe."

He playfully shakes his head.

"I'll text you."

A car pulls into the pick-up port and we say our goodbyes. I squeeze the phone in my hand, feeling some strange urge to look at my contacts. I can't remember the last time I was this excited over something.

I lean my head on the window and close my eyes. Memories dance in my head and I remember a old name.

"Alex Grant"

The name is bitter-sweet in my mind.

He's someone that I hold close to my heart, I will never forget my 'First friend'. Though he is more than a friend to me. He was somewhat a 'refuge' for the small me. Someone who knew, but didn't know me at the same time. He reached out to me from the vastness of the world, and chose to talk with me. He gave me anxiety, made me laugh,but made me realize the world is so much bigger than the bubble I was in all at the same time. He is a part of my story and ultimately, made me who I am today.

I cringe at the night I called him. My emotions running too rampant for me to control, I told him my secret. Forgetting to hear his reply, until it was too late.

Time distorts things.

It was so easy to talk to him before. Now, I stare at the attempts he made to fix what I ruined.

The last message I saw before I never went back online was,

"I don't hate you."

Of course small me didn't believe him. I hated myself then, I didn't trust those words.

Sometimes, at night when I'm bored, I wonder if he'd be online like he always was. By now he probably already moved on with his life.

I remember our second encounter, when I sent him "Three things I love". Where did I come up with such a haughty idea anyway?

That a stranger would actually care?

I turn on my phone.

I wonder if I remember the pa.s.sword?

In less than five minutes I logged in and my heart began to race as I look at the familiar screen.

'He's probably living his life perfectly fine.Your window already closed. There's no going back. You knew that.'

Yeah, I did.

I see the last message was sent on June 2018 and cringe. He wrote this not knowing if I would respond or not...

There are somethings in life that are meant to be left in the past. Even if you don't exactly want to leave them.

For me, that is the bitter-sweet moments I had with Alex.

Suddenly, I drew up the courage to message him. I typed as fast as my fingers would let me.

I sent it without rereading and almost threw my phone across the back seat.

"Three things I like about you."

I know he'll reply in the morning.

Just than, I snap out of my daydream, just in time to notice I am on my street.

I take a deep breath, leaning my head against the window as the streetlight go by. I sigh.

I still have a habit of daydreaming, without fully noticing what I'm really doing.

I'm tired. I pay for the ride and get it. As I fumble with my key, the cold messing up my hand-eye coordination, as I stand in front of my room.

My phone chimes.

My heart-rate spikes at the sound, almost giving me a heart-attack.

Consciously, I pull my phone out of my coat pocket.

"Hey, did you make it home safely?"

I finally get the darn key in and I quickly unlock the door, quickly closing it behind me.

Warmth came back to my cheeks as for the second time tonight, I feel weird.

"Yeah, I just got in."

"Cool. G'night then."

My heart squeezes in my chest and for a second I was scared for my health.

"night"

Small me never imagined that life would be like this in only a short amount of years from then.

Even though life still isn't perfect. Heck, today wasn't even perfect, it was close though.

Today is still a day too remember.

THE END.