have to be friends with everyone, and you don’t have to hold on to friends who aren’t great for you. According to the internet. Even ignoring the fact she’s the reason I still get “IS IT TRUE?!?!!” messages, though it’s been a couple of months, she isn’t a good person to have in my life right now.
I’m seeing Skye tomorrow. I didn’t want everything to end with him, but I know it won’t be the same. We’ll talk about all the things we used to, and we might talk about Megan. I’m preparing for it, at least.
Airports are more manageable now. But that’s because there are fewer unknowns this time. I’ll land in Kentucky at the awkward hour of four in the afternoon, so by the time I get settled at home, it’ll be bedtime in London. And when I wake up, it’ll be time to face life in Kentucky as an openly gay man.
Even if it’s just for a week, until I’m back on a flight to my new home in London, I’m ready for it.
My new life: a shitty two-bedroom apartment with Shane, a part-time job, busking in the underground with Dani, fitting auditions in where I can. It still seems impossible. I just turned eighteen, but I’m not nearly old enough for this. Or mature enough. But I’m doing it. New Marty is committing to his new life.
Megan is in the past, but Pierce is back in the present. We can manage it. I don’t think I judge him for doing what he did, and I don’t care if he judges me. There was once a day when I wanted him to have all my firsts, but there are many I still hold on to. I’m just waiting for the right one to share them with.
I hold the phone up to my ear.
“Hi, Dad. We’re boarding the plane now.”
“Marty! Can’t believe you’re coming back so soon.” He laughs. “Nah, it’s been ages, really.”
“It feels like it’s been years. I’m excited to come back, even though—well, you know.”
“Don’t worry about that. Your mom and I won’t let anyone be weird around you.”
They’ve been better, but it will take some time to put things behind us. There’s so much we need to talk about, but we have time. And for once, it’s like we’re all on the same page. I’m even a little excited to see their new church. (Though I may have booked my travel specifically so I’d miss Sunday service—oops!)
I board the plane, take my seat, and put in my earphones. When the cabin doors shut, the anxiety creeps back in. It’s the normal kind, I think. If there is such a thing. It’s a beast of a flight—ten hours, over an ocean.
And this time, I have a two-way ticket.
A week in Kentucky will do me good, but I’m going to miss Sophie, Shane, Dani, maybe even Pierce. And I have the rest of my life, theoretically, to hang out with them.
With trembling hands, I take a book out of my bag and clutch it to my chest. It’s a journal, one I picked up shortly after everything went down this summer. I’ve been writing my experiences in it, and it’s been helping. Aunt Leah introduced me to all these great meditation and breathing apps. Nothing’s perfect, and it might never be, but it helps.
I write the date in the top-right corner, and start to fill out a page of fears, of joy, of everything in between. Airplanes have a way of bringing all the emotions out of you.
On my last transatlantic flight, my dream was to escape. Get as far away from there as I could. But despite the hitch in my breath and the tension snaking down my shoulders, I’m ready to go back.
A wave of excitement washes over me as the plane accelerates down the runway. My heart rate kicks up, and my breaths become shallow as the front wheel lifts off the ground.
London shrinks beneath me, and it finally hits me. I never wanted to escape from Avery. I never wanted to disappear, or fade into the background. I wanted to go someplace I could conquer my fears and become my own person.
And I freaking did it.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear Reader,
When I was a senior in high school, my friends won superlatives like Future Leader of the World or Class Clown. Me? I won Most Musical. This was fitting, because, from choir to marching band and everywhere in between, music defined my teen years. That