Clash (Crash 2)

I did go back into the restaurant, ignoring the looks of curiosity and sneers of disapproval; I even managed to make small talk with my parents and eat a bite of everything that was served. I went through the motions, put on the It’s all good face, but it wasn’t. Every second that ticked by drilled another hole in my heart. I wanted to be with him, to comfort whatever needed comforting, to be assured we were going to be all right. That we’d weather this storm.

After lunch, I showed my parents around New York. We saw the sights, exchanged some more small talk, and the ache in my heart went deeper.

“Honey, are you sure you don’t want to stay with us at the hotel tonight?” Mom asked, turning in her seat as Dad drove through Juilliard’s campus. “We’ve got an early flight tomorrow, but you could sleep in, order room service, and we could arrange to have a cab drive you back.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got a load of homework to get cracking on and I need to rehearse for the winter recital,” I said, looking out the window, trying to drone out “Blackbird” playing through the speakers. Even in a rental, dad had to have the Beatles blaring.

“You’ve got homework over Thanksgiving break?” Dad piped up, glancing in the rearview mirror.

“Tell me about it,” I said, sounding as numb as I felt. “They’re slave drivers here.”

Dad made a clucking sound with his tongue, shaking his head. “This it, Lucy in the sky?” Dad asked, slowing in front of the dark dorm and peering up at it.

“Home sweet home,” I said, going for the handle of the full-sized rental they’d splurged on. In fact, they’d splurged on the whole trip, the whole day. And a robot would have been just as good of company.

Stepping out of the car, I glanced over at the Mazda. The snow had died off, but a good couple of inches covered it.

“Are you going to be all right, Lucy?” Mom asked, stepping out and glancing over the car at me.

“She’s going to be great,” Dad answered for me, stepping out of the car and giving me a private smile.

I nodded because that’s all the lie I was capable of right now.

“Thanks for coming all this way,” I said, giving my dad a hug. “And sorry things went so wonky.”

“Life is wonky, my Lucy in the sky,” he said, patting my cheek. “It’s to be expected.”

For someone who had been declared mentally unstable over five years ago, my father was a very wise man.

Mom came around the car and wrapped me into her arms. “Everything will be fine, sweetheart,” she said into my ear. “Men just need time to sort these things out. They don’t have the need to talk the issue into a pulp like we do.”

And for someone who’d been an ice queen for the past five years, she could be surprisingly warm. “Thanks, Mom,” I replied. “That sounds like good advice.”

“I’m the expert,” she said, smiling in front of me. “I’ve lived it for the past five years,” she mouthed, glancing back at Dad.

“Have a safe flight,” I said, giving them each a quick peck on the cheek before heading up the walkway. “See you at Christmas.”

“Love you, sweetheart,” Mom said as they watched me head towards my dorm.

They obviously weren’t going to take their eyes off of me until I was locked safely inside. To parents whose children didn’t grow up in New York City, it was a place where murder happened around every corner and a criminal was lurking in every shadow. I was pretty sure my mom had been clutching a canister of mace when she stepped out of the car.

Sliding my key card in front of the register, I pushed the door open. Before stepping inside, I waved at them. They waved back, smiling at me, Mom tucked under Dad’s arm, looking like the parents they’d been when I was in grade school.

At least one thing in my life was looking up.

The dorm hall was quiet. Silent. Most everyone was back home celebrating with their families, while the few that remained behind were likely out celebrating late into the night with their friends.

Shoving open the stairwell door, I walked down the empty hall, contemplating my next move. I was fighting every instinct to jump into the Mazda and not stop until I’d found Jude. I knew I should fight to stay put and do as he’d requested. Sit tight, give him some space, and he’d call me when whatever fit of rage that had risen had calmed.

But how long until he called? Did he mean tonight? Tomorrow? Next week?

Thumping my head into my door as I unlocked it, I toyed with the idea of flipping a coin. Thankfully, I came to the conclusion that was a disaster waiting to happen. I wasn’t going to let fate make my decisions for me. That was my job. I’d rather be the one to blame for making the wrong decision than fate getting all the credit when I made a right one.

Switching the light on, I stood in the doorway, staring at the bed where Jude’s suitcase and the pink rose he’d given me hours earlier rested. The rose was already starting to wilt.

Staring at that flower, the pink petals curling at the ends as the life bled out of it, helped me make my decision. Turning off the light, I locked the door back up and ran down the hall. I wasn’t going to let what we had die due to neglect.

I was down the stairs and out the door less than a few minutes after my parents had pulled away. I had yet to purchase one of those snow scraper thingeys native New Yorkers seemed to have at least two of in the trunks of their cars on any given day of the year, so I used my forearm to scrape the snow off the windows before tossing myself inside.

go back into the restaurant, ignoring the looks of curiosity and sneers of disapproval; I even managed to make small talk with my parents and eat a bite of everything that was served. I went through the motions, put on the It’s all good face, but it wasn’t. Every second that ticked by drilled another hole in my heart. I wanted to be with him, to comfort whatever needed comforting, to be assured we were going to be all right. That we’d weather this storm.

After lunch, I showed my parents around New York. We saw the sights, exchanged some more small talk, and the ache in my heart went deeper.

“Honey, are you sure you don’t want to stay with us at the hotel tonight?” Mom asked, turning in her seat as Dad drove through Juilliard’s campus. “We’ve got an early flight tomorrow, but you could sleep in, order room service, and we could arrange to have a cab drive you back.”

“Thanks, but I’ve got a load of homework to get cracking on and I need to rehearse for the winter recital,” I said, looking out the window, trying to drone out “Blackbird” playing through the speakers. Even in a rental, dad had to have the Beatles blaring.

“You’ve got homework over Thanksgiving break?” Dad piped up, glancing in the rearview mirror.

“Tell me about it,” I said, sounding as numb as I felt. “They’re slave drivers here.”

Dad made a clucking sound with his tongue, shaking his head. “This it, Lucy in the sky?” Dad asked, slowing in front of the dark dorm and peering up at it.

“Home sweet home,” I said, going for the handle of the full-sized rental they’d splurged on. In fact, they’d splurged on the whole trip, the whole day. And a robot would have been just as good of company.

Stepping out of the car, I glanced over at the Mazda. The snow had died off, but a good couple of inches covered it.

“Are you going to be all right, Lucy?” Mom asked, stepping out and glancing over the car at me.

“She’s going to be great,” Dad answered for me, stepping out of the car and giving me a private smile.

I nodded because that’s all the lie I was capable of right now.

“Thanks for coming all this way,” I said, giving my dad a hug. “And sorry things went so wonky.”

“Life is wonky, my Lucy in the sky,” he said, patting my cheek. “It’s to be expected.”

For someone who had been declared mentally unstable over five years ago, my father was a very wise man.

Mom came around the car and wrapped me into her arms. “Everything will be fine, sweetheart,” she said into my ear. “Men just need time to sort these things out. They don’t have the need to talk the issue into a pulp like we do.”

And for someone who’d been an ice queen for the past five years, she could be surprisingly warm. “Thanks, Mom,” I replied. “That sounds like good advice.”

“I’m the expert,” she said, smiling in front of me. “I’ve lived it for the past five years,” she mouthed, glancing back at Dad.

“Have a safe flight,” I said, giving them each a quick peck on the cheek before heading up the walkway. “See you at Christmas.”

“Love you, sweetheart,” Mom said as they watched me head towards my dorm.

They obviously weren’t going to take their eyes off of me until I was locked safely inside. To parents whose children didn’t grow up in New York City, it was a place where murder happened around every corner and a criminal was lurking in every shadow. I was pretty sure my mom had been clutching a canister of mace when she stepped out of the car.

Sliding my key card in front of the register, I pushed the door open. Before stepping inside, I waved at them. They waved back, smiling at me, Mom tucked under Dad’s arm, looking like the parents they’d been when I was in grade school.

At least one thing in my life was looking up.

The dorm hall was quiet. Silent. Most everyone was back home celebrating with their families, while the few that remained behind were likely out celebrating late into the night with their friends.

Shoving open the stairwell door, I walked down the empty hall, contemplating my next move. I was fighting every instinct to jump into the Mazda and not stop until I’d found Jude. I knew I should fight to stay put and do as he’d requested. Sit tight, give him some space, and he’d call me when whatever fit of rage that had risen had calmed.

But how long until he called? Did he mean tonight? Tomorrow? Next week?

Thumping my head into my door as I unlocked it, I toyed with the idea of flipping a coin. Thankfully, I came to the conclusion that was a disaster waiting to happen. I wasn’t going to let fate make my decisions for me. That was my job. I’d rather be the one to blame for making the wrong decision than fate getting all the credit when I made a right one.

Switching the light on, I stood in the doorway, staring at the bed where Jude’s suitcase and the pink rose he’d given me hours earlier rested. The rose was already starting to wilt.

Staring at that flower, the pink petals curling at the ends as the life bled out of it, helped me make my decision. Turning off the light, I locked the door back up and ran down the hall. I wasn’t going to let what we had die due to neglect.

I was down the stairs and out the door less than a few minutes after my parents had pulled away. I had yet to purchase one of those snow scraper thingeys native New Yorkers seemed to have at least two of in the trunks of their cars on any given day of the year, so I used my forearm to scrape the snow off the windows before tossing myself inside.