The only way I know how to keep my mom from crying is by hugging her, but half the time, that doesn’t even work. It feels a bit weird having my mom embrace me after all these years, and I don’t miss the way our clothes awkwardly cling to each other after we separate, but I don’t not miss it, either.
“Promise me you’ll visit sometime,” Mom says, blinking back tears as she grabs onto my cheeks. She always does that to me, and I think that skill was inherited from my Aunt Hilla, who always used to grab my chubby little cheeks when I was younger.
“I promise, Mom.” I wrap my arms around her again, letting her head rest on my chest, and tears spill onto my shirt, which means that now there’s going to be a wet, grey spot on my white T-shirt. After what feels like forever, she pulls away, her eyes tainted red from salty tears. She looks into my eyes through a teary lens, and I grit my teeth, avoiding eye contact.
A slight jingle plays from a loudspeaker nearby, and I tilt my head to listen to the voice over the waves of people rushing past me. “May the passengers on Platform 3 please board the train…” A female voice calls.
Mom tucks a strand of dyed brown hair behind her ears, reaching for her black leather purse and pulling a tissue from it. She dabs the tissue on her running mascara, then stops and looks at me once more. “Promise me that you’ll stay safe,” She says, tucking the tissue back in her bag.
Nodding, my hands grab two large suitcases by the handle. “I will, Mom. Don’t worry.” I tighten my grip on my suitcase. Leaving my hometown to go to college is a massive next step for me — for anyone — and I can’t say I’m ready for it, but if I don’t do it now, I’m not sure I ever will. Hesitantly, I turn my back away from Mom. “I love you,” I mutter as I step onto the train, turning back to look at her.
Mom smiles wryly at me, a soft, but hopeful smile. A small joy sparks within me, and Mom leans forward to kiss my forehead. “I love you too, Adam.” She brushes her eyes again, and I bite my tongue as another jingle plays and more people appear suddenly at the entrance to the train station, obscuring my Mom from my vision. Through the rush of sound in the crowd, I hear her voice. “Say hi to Jude for me!”
“Train at Platform 3 is leaving in five minutes.”
Being pushed, I fall over and almost bump into a lady. “Sorry,” I mumble as I get up and drag the suitcase behind me. The noise clatters around me, almost suffocating me. A man is walking the other way and bumps into my shoulder. He grunts some obscenity, and I furrow my brow as I continue to search for my aisle.
At last, I find my seat and stumble into it, sighing as the suitcases reside next to me, and I turn to look at the large, smooth-edged glass frame that I call a window. On the platform, Mom stares back at me, a soft smile tugging on the edges of her face, and a tear rolling down her face.
Relief comes over me as a soft hum erupts from the engine and the jingle plays, too distinct for me to hear what the woman is saying. The relief is then replaced with guilt as it sinks in that I’m leaving Mom alone at home for the next year. Mom waves at me as the train begins to slide down the rails, and I wave back. Seeing my Mom tearing up has always done bad things to me, and I swallow the lump that’s growing in my throat before my eyes swell.
“Goodbye, Mom,” I whisper solemnly as my mother gets absorbed into a blur while the train accelerates along the track. Like a scared kid once again, I find myself looking for the white cardigan she was wearing among the blur of multiple colours. When I realise it’s impossible to make her out anymore, I notice how much my legs are shaking. A young lady around my age sits beside me, on the navy blue cushiony seats, and I subconsciously scramble to stabilise my legs together.
“Where are you headed?” she asks. Her eyes don’t connect with mine, so I don’t think she is talking to me. I turn to look out the window, which shows the metro’s concrete walls encasing us inside a tunnel. She clears her throat and repeats the question, her voice edging into impatience. I turn to her. Her blazing brown eyes are sharp and attentive, and her hair is fair and messy.
“You do know this train has no other stops than Lonest?” I ask, and the girl lets out a laugh as though she was already expecting that answer. For a moment, I feel awkward.
“Alright. Snarky attitude, eh? I like it,” She chuckles, offering a soft smile as she tries to hide the fact that she’s laughing. “My name is Nell. What’s your name, Mr Snarky Attitude?”
She reaches across the aisle and extends a hand out towards me. Her hand is initially cold, but surprisingly turns warm when it wraps around mine. “Adam,” I say. Nell let go of my hand before I could do the same.
“Where are you headed inside of Lonest?” Nell asks again. My neck suddenly gets itchy, and I pull on my sweater, afraid of my seasonal allergies breaking out again.
“Lonest College,” I say.
“Really? Me too!” Nell exclaims, her eyes widening in… joy, I think? It’s hard to tell because of the sunglasses she’s wearing, and every time her eyes shift and coil, perhaps connect with mine under the glasses, my eyes automatically avoid hers. “Nervous?” She lifts her glasses, grinning.
“Not really,” I reply – my voice dropping an octave, betraying me. I shrug as if I hadn’t been thinking about all the ways something might go wrong. As if I hadn’t had sleepless nights, afraid of what first impression I’d give to the people in my college. As if I hadn’t been struggling just to be myself. “Okay, maybe I’m just a little bit nervous.”
A smile tugs on the side of Nell’s face. “You don’t look the type to get nervous,” She says. And she isn’t wrong. I was an athlete in high school. I’ve always been quite fit and was the star player in my school’s soccer team. I’m quick on my feet and have decent reflexes, and, well, I’m a good collaborator. My soccer team always relied on me to help them triumph.
“I’m not,” I say, staring at a stain on the blue carpet under the seat in front of me. I stammer for a bit, then bite my tongue and start over. “I don’t get nervous often, but this is all… so new to me.” Nell notices that I’ve been staring at the floor for too long. She purses her lips, then sits back in her seat, her smile faltering.
“Yeah, same,” Nell agrees, her voice quieter than before. She takes off her sunglasses, revealing that the brown of her eyes was actually a honey hazel colour. She nudges me, offering a smile again. “My little sister encouraged me, though. She was like, ‘Why would you want to stay here in this shoddy little ramshackle town? There’s a whole world out there, and you need to be part of it, you oaf!’ and I was like, ‘Leave me alone, I’m depressed,’ or something like that.”
I laugh – a real one – and the sound surprises me. I haven’t had a good laugh in a while. I was too busy preparing for my new academic adventure to have time for hobbies and fun. Nell beams as if she’s just won an award or something, and I sink deeper into my seat, if that was even possible. I look back out the window as we leave the tunnel.
The night sky is so vast, sprinkled with shimmering stars. But they don’t compare to the millions of lights that glow from the city on the horizon, reminding me of the world I’m leaving. Maybe my new area of residence will be similar. Maybe it’ll be terrifying. Maybe I’ll struggle to adapt. I turn back to Nell and see her still beaming at me.
Maybe I’ll struggle to adapt, but… Maybe I’ll make friends along the way who can teach me how to change.
