Moving Out

Chapter 8 of Banished for Love

It’s Friday afternoon and I can’t practice any of my new found skills. Jeremy is at his house moving boxes of dusty holiday decorations out of their spare bedroom.

 

I had learned earlier today that my bed and dresser would have to come with me, considering that the spare room’s only furnishings were an oversize chair, a small coffee table, and a desk.

 

I begin folding my clothes from my dresser and closet into a large suitcase. Music is blasting from my stereo, making this far more entertaining. I try futilely to zip up my stuffed suitcase. Giving up, I stand and scowl down at the uncooperative thing, kicking it for good measure.

 

“You have to be nice to the suitcase, or it will never be nice to you,” Jeremy says from my open doorway, a smile in his voice.

 

“Well, it won’t close. I feel that justifies a kick,” I reply, irked.

 

“Good song,” he says, referring to Marilyn Manson’s cover of This is Halloween. I smile at him for recognizing it.

 

“Here, let me help. You sit on it, and I’ll wrestle it shut. Maybe Manson will help motivate us,” he says, returning the smile. I do as he says, and we have it shut in a jiffy. I stand and scowl at the suitcase again.

 

“Oh sure, listen to him,” I say. Jeremy lets out a bark of laughter. I turn my glare onto him. He catches sight of my expression and holds his hands up in surrender, trying to suppress the laughter still bubbling off his lips.

 

He clears his throat, squelching the remains of his chuckling. “The guest room is all ready for your stuff.”

 

“Well, all I have so far is that suitcase, and that box with the stuff from my dresser,” I reply, pointing to the cardboard box in the corner.

 

“I’ll take them over,” he says, grabbing the bag and box and lugging them down the stairs.

 

I open up another box and start pulling things off my walls. I wrap picture frames, candle sconces, and other wall decorations in newspaper before laying them neatly in the box. I sing along to Everybody’s Fool by Evanescence as I attempt to take the very large and very heavy painting of the meadow off my wall. The span of my arms is barely wide enough to wrap my fingertips around the edges of the frame. Jeremy’s hands suddenly appear over mine, aiding me with his wider wingspan.

 

“You sing beautifully,” he says softly, kissing my shoulder. I feel the heat of his lips, and am pretty sure my cheeks have flushed an unattractive tomato color.

 

We set the painting to lean against the wall beside the box. When I straighten up, Jeremy’s arms wind around my waist from behind. I can’t feel it, but I can see that he is trailing the tip of his nose from the end of my shoulder, up my neck, to the corner of my jaw and back. I shudder at the numbness and feel a long, thin fissure cracking across my heart, knowing that this moment would mean so much more to me if I could really feel it. I close my eyes and reluctantly step away. As I turn back to Jeremy, I see mostly confusion on his face, but I know him well enough to see the pain lurking in those beautiful green eyes; eyes full of so much love and trust that it breaks my heart to have to push him away like this. Sighing, I step forward to wrap my arms around his neck, laying my face in the warm curve between his neck and shoulder. He hesitantly returns the gesture, causing the fissure to grow.

 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into my hair. “I wasn’t thinking about what that would put you through.”

 

I hug him tighter. “No, I’m sorry. I overreacted. You just caught me off guard, that’s all.”

 

Jeremy pulls back to look me in the eyes. "You weren't overreacting, your feelings are valid. It's just going to take some getting used to. If I ever do anything that bothers you, please let me know. I don't want to hurt you." 

 

Tears well in my eyes at his complete understanding and I nod.

 

***

 

We finally get everything packed up and moved over to Jeremy’s house. I am almost done unpacking when Jeremy bursts into “my” room.

 

“Shoot, I was afraid you’d be pretty close to being done by now,” he says.

 

“Why? What’s wrong?” I reply, confused.

 

“We kind of have to pack all your stuff back up,” he says quietly, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “I just got a call from my mom. She and my dad are coming to visit tomorrow.”

 

I groan and start throwing my clothes back into my suitcase. Jeremy wraps the knick knacks on my dresser back into their box. I can only be thankful that I had yet to get around to hanging anything on the walls. We shove my boxes and bag under the bed, out of sight.

 

“What time should I be out of the house?” I ask, perching on the arm of the chair.

 

“Their flight lands at 11. Cheyenne is picking them up,” he responds, plopping into the chair. I slide down the arm so that I am curled up in the chair with him. Even though I lost my sense of touch, cuddling still scratches an emotional itch. I also know it’s something Jeremy craves, and I still want to make him happy. Mind over matter, I suppose.

 

“And when are they leaving?” I ask, glancing up at him.

 

He winces, clearly unhappy with the answer. “Sunday afternoon. Cheyenne will take them to the airport at 2.”

 

“So, I’ll have to stay back at my house for one night,” I say, thoroughly dreading even that one night.

 

“Yeah, unfortunately. But for tonight, you get to stay here,” he responds, leaning his forehead against mine. I glance sideways at my alarm clock.

 

“Speaking of sleep, I should probably get some,” I say, attempting to disentangle myself from Jeremy’s embrace. He groans and tightens his arms around me.

 

“Do you have to?” he whines.

 

I giggle at him. “Yes, it’s 1 AM. If you want me out of here by the time your parentals arrive, I gotta get to sleep.” I again try to wriggle out of his steely grip.

 

He groans again but loosens his hold. I stand and pull him up with me.

 

I give him a quick kiss goodnight before shooing him out of my room and toward his own. Once he leaves, I curl up in my bed, close my eyes, and the nightmares begin.