Everyone Knows Better Than Perrie

I’m already thinking about what to pack as I’m riding the train home that afternoon. Well, it’s almost evening, really. Our flight leaves during the night, so I don’t have much time to pack my things.

Funnily enough, I got lost track of days and thought we were leaving yesterday. I really don’t know where my head is these days. I hope I’ll manage to pack something useful at all. No, actually, it doesn’t even matter what I’m going to pack, I just need to talk to Hunter.

Before I’m able to start thinking about what to say, my phone starts ringing. We’re just entering a tunnel, making everything appear all the more darker outside. I notice an elderly woman flinching at my ringtone and I can’t help but send her an apologetic gaze, before answering.

I try to keep my voice down as much as possible, because this train isn’t really full, so the atmosphere is quite peaceful. No one is talking and I’m about to break that silence. “Yes, mom?” I answer, hoping that I won’t have people eavesdropping on this conversation right now.

“Hey, sweetie, are you already going to the airport?” she wonders as she greets me. Yeah, I wish, mom. I’m just headed home to pack my suitcase. Then, another train ride awaits me before I’ll be able to sit on a plane and sleep for some time.

“No, I’m going home. Our flight is a little past midnight,” I let her know, meeting silence on the other end. I’m not sure what it means, though. She can’t be picking up on how I’m feeling over the phone, can she?

“Is … Is everything okay?” she asks in a cautious tone, making me freeze. Come on. Does she have an emotion detector, rooted in her head or what? She can always tell what’s going on with me. I kind of hate it right now. I want to keep things to myself right now, she doesn’t need to know how badly things have turned between Hunter and me. It will only upset her.

“Yeah, mom, why wouldn’t it be?” I say a little too defensively. I can tell by the way that elderly lady looks at me, which also makes me realize that I’ve gotten a little louder. Okay, time to hang up, we can chit-chat later. When I don’t have the prying eyes of the entire train glued on me. At least that’s how it feels like.

“I don’t know, you sound like you’re in distress. Is it school? Is it Hunter? Is it your internship? Honey, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?” she tries to make me open up, but I’m not here for it.

“Yeah, thanks. It’s … Everything’s fine. Just … I’m tired,” I tell her quietly, without really saying much. She sighs into the phone, clearly giving up on me. Nope, I’m not going to talk, like I’ve already said. There’s too many people around. I’m not comfortable dissecting my entire life in front of strangers.

“Okay, have it your way,” she says, sounding a little upset, before she continues in a little calmer tone. “But if there’s anything you want to talk about, or if you need any kind of advice … Your dad and I have been married for a long time, you know, I do have some knowledge of relationships,” she adds.

I can feel my cheeks heating up. Okay, she just went there. She really went there. Oh my God. “Uh … Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind,” I assure her, then quickly change the subject. “Are you going to come pick us up to the airport, or will you order us an Uber?” I wonder.

She keeps quiet for a moment, before finally responding. “I haven’t decided yet, but I’ll let you know, before you have to depart, okay?” she replies, clearly deciding that she won’t push me furthermore. Great, because I’m really not feeling up for it.

“Okay, thanks. I’ll be waiting,” I murmur in response, hoping that no one finds my conversation interesting enough to be eavesdropping on it anymore. There will be no airing of dirty laundry, folks. You’ve waited for nothing.

“Sure. I miss you, Perrie. Can’t wait to see you,” my mom then adds a little more quietly. I can’t help but smile at the longingness I hear inside her voice. “I love you,” she then adds, using even less volume. Her voice is barely audible, but I still hear it.

This time, I’m not even embarrassed to say this out loud. Even if I resolve to a whisper, just like my mom. “Same here, mom. I love you, too,” I tell her. Then, we say our greetings and hang up. As I put my phone away, I notice that elderly lady is still staring at me.

I blink in surprise, turn my head away for a few moments, then look back at her, just to make sure she’s stopped staring. But no, her gaze is still pinned on me, and I’m really tempted to say ‘what’ out loud. Just to rub some of my frustrations off on her. No, Perrie, you’re not that kind of a person.

The lady does however surprise me, as she shakes her head at me ever so slightly, before saying: “You should listen to your mother.” I’m so stunned that I can’t get a single syllable out of my mouth, while the woman simply makes herself comfortable again and dozes off soon. I can tell by the way her head falls to her chest after a few moments.

Wow. You’ve sunk deep, girl. You have strangers telling you how to live your life. On a train ride home. How bizarre is this day going to become, really? Can it get any worse?

I get my answer as soon as I get home. And meet a packed suitcase, standing by the door. It’s Hunter’s. I know it’s for our flight to Oregon, but still, it’s not a pleasant feeling, seeing it packed and ready, standing by the door. It feels almost … ominous.

I take a deep breath and close the door behind me, starting to take my dirty shoes off. I managed to step into a puddle today, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to make them recover. They’re quite dirty. New York streets aren’t exactly known to be the cleanest.

I find Hunter, sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He doesn’t even look at me. I bite my lower lip. Okay. Time to go apologize. Make a fool out of myself. Anything. Just don’t stand there and stare like an i***t, Perrie, God! You look ridiculous!

“Hey,” I hear myself saying. He glances at me for a moment, before turning his gaze back to the screen. Well, that happens to be an amazing sign. Not.

“Hey,” he finally replies, with much difficulty. I can detect it inside his voice. I clear my throat, realizing that I better make myself useful, if I want to fly to Oregon tonight. I already turn around, when he asks: “What did the dean tell you?”

I freeze on spot, then look at him, not knowing whether he’s genuinely interested if I got kicked out of NYU or if he’s just trying to ease his conscience for giving me a piece of his mind yesterday.

I don’t know and I don’t even care. What matters is that he asked. I turn my whole body around to respond to his question. “I’m still being monitored. They’re still trying to figure out if I actually wrote that note or not,” I tell him shrugging. “Maybe they’ll believe me, maybe they won’t,” I then add, not sure why I deem it necessary.

He stares at me for a moment, then nods slowly, once again returning his attention to his phone. I squeeze my lips together and turn around, walking to the closet to start packing my things. It’s funny, leaving this studio again. But each time we leave, we come back a little stronger. At least that’s how it’s been lately. I hope things won’t change this time around.

We barely say ten words to each other before leaving. And we literally have two hours before that happens. As we catch the right train, we position ourselves in the direction of the ride, because I feel sick if I have to ride backwards.

He doesn’t say anything to me. And I don’t initiate conversation either. I know he needs his space, even if I want to grab him by his shoulders so badly, and shake him until he tells me what I need to do to earn his forgiveness. Or go back to the old Perrie that I used to be.

As we wait for the airport procedures, he’s on his phone again. I’m tempted to do the same, just to show him what it feels like. But I know he wouldn’t care. Not really. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even notice that I’m trying to pay him back.

I sit there next to him, surprising myself with how much patience I actually have that I literally do nothing and keep quiet for a whole hour, while he stares at his screen the entire time. I have a bad feeling rising inside my chest. One that I don’t know how to get rid of.

Usually, we were already talking by the time we had to hop on a plane. You know, exchanged at least a few words, commented on something we haven’t noticed about the airport before, looking outside to see how many planes land. I don’t know, something, anything! It’s making me lose it.

“I have to go to the restroom,” I say all of a sudden, making him glance at me before nodding. His reaction makes me feel even worse and I find myself crying before I even step into the ladies room. I rush into a stall and lock myself in, letting myself sob into my arms.

The inside of the restroom is so noisy, that luckily no one hears me. Or at least I hope they don’t. I really don’t need anyone’s sympathy right now. I don’t even deserve it. I check the time after a while, deciding that it’s time to go back. I can take twenty more minutes in silence, before we can start boarding the plane. After that, I’ll just pretend to be asleep.

I put myself on my feet and leave the stall, hoping that no one stares at my puffy face right now. I flush it with cold water, multiple times, but I know he’ll be able to tell what I was doing if he just takes a single look at my face. Well, for that, he’ll actually have to glue his gaze away from the screen he’s been staring at since I’ve stepped into our studio.

I get back to my seat beside him, trying so hard not to let out a single sniffle. As soon as I sit down, I know he’ll turn his head to look at me. I turn it to the side, pretending to be interested in something that’s in my backpack.

He doesn’t say anything. Again. And it’s slowly making me lose all hope of us, patching things up. My mom will know the moment she takes one look at us. What am I going to tell her? What am I going to tell Aiden? He’s forbidden us from hurting each other, now look at us!

As we have to board the plane, I get up sooner than he does and start walking in front of him, so he doesn’t see my face. I know it’s not as bad as it was twenty minutes ago, but still. My face still feels swollen. I don’t want him to see that I’ve been crying again.

He doesn’t try to walk beside me and I’m grateful for that. Probably for the first time ever. What does that say about me? About where our relationship is headed? Are we really speeding towards doom?