I Need To Find My Way Back To The Start
“Shall we sing together on the way to Pat’s?”
Buzz. Buzz. Buuuuuuzzzzzzz.
“Shut the hell up,” I mumbled into my pillow. The buzzing and vibrating didn’t stop like I had verbally commanded it to, so I flung my arm out and snatch the cell phone. I turned the alarm off and checked the time, even though I knew that the alarm was set to go off at precisely 6:00 A.M., which it was at the moment.
Still pretty groggy from going to bed at eleven last night, I trudged my way to the bathroom. I nearly walked into the wall at one point. It was the same wall—from my bedroom doorway—that I had ran into and broke my toe when Garrett was chasing me when we were in middle school still. Anyway, when I made it into the bathroom, I quickly got a shower and changed into some clothes. It all took about 45 minutes. I decided to wake Garrett up, since I didn’t hear him grumbling about yet.
“Garrett,” I softly said near his ear, poking him in the back. “It’s time to get up, Garrett.”
But Garrett didn’t move. His shoulder muscle flexed a bit under his gray t-shirt, but that was about it.
“Garrett!” I hissed. “You have to get up!”
Under the covers, my brother’s foot twitched a little, as well as the couple fingers that were wrapped around his white pillow.
Okay, what should I do to wake him up? Bucket of water? Yank the covers harshly off him? Scream in his ear? Tell him the band’s here and is waiting for him? Or perhaps Ali?
“Stop trying to think of a clever plan, Cara,” Garrett mumbled, just able to sit up. He ran his hand through his really messy hair slowly in circular motions. It wasn’t helping at all. “I’m up, okay? Go finish getting ready.”
“Alright,” I easily agreed, and went back to my room to do my hair and makeup.
***
“Where are we meeting?” I asked my brother as we carried our bags downstairs, in front of the door.
“Actually, this time, John’s just going to drive the van around and pick us all up,” he exclaimed. “Peter’s with him, too.”
“Oh, joy,” I mumbled, wiping my palms on my jeans out of habit.
Garrett sighed and answered, “Yeah, I know. I don’t know why, but Peter likes you. Or rather, he enjoys messing with you. He thinks you’re neat.”
I scoffed. “You say it like I’m a damn experiment or project at the annual science fair or something!”
“Eh, yeah, whatever,” Garrett mumbled. “He probably just likes the change of having a girl around.”
“Ugh,” I muttered, dropping my last bag on the floor.
“Is that the last of your stuff?”
I nodded. “Are you done, too?”
Garrett scratched his head as he looked over the pile of luggage. “I think so.” He took another second and then stated, “Yep. That’s it.”
I put my hands on my hips and observed the pile as well. “Good. Now I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go get my bag.”
“What the hell! You definitely just said that everything was here, Cara!”
“Oh,” I blankly and simply said. “Well I meant the stuff I packed. I’m talking about my ’purse’ now.”
Garrett stared at me. His eyes had a mix of frustration and boredom in them, which doesn’t even make sense since the two don’t exactly fit together hand-in-hand. “Okay…”
I quickly ran upstairs and retrieved the same tote bag that I had carried around with me not only during when I was still in school, but also in the summer on tour with The Maine. By the time I came back down and slipped on my shoes, Garrett had said that John and Peter had just pulled up with the infamous van, which was linked to the little storage trailer behind.
We put our things in the back quickly with the help of John and Peter. Garrett and Peter were hurriedly talking about something back near the storage trailer, my brother’s hands animate as he spoke. I took this time to greet John, whom was standing in front of the van, leaning against it.
“Hey,” I said, a small smile on my face as I stood in front of him.
“Hi there,” he coolly replied. “What’s up?”
I shrugged and adjusted my bag on my shoulder. “Nothing really. Yourself?”
John motioned lazily with one shoulder. “Same, I guess. Just driving. Well, not at the moment obviously, but you get the point.”
I let out a gentle laugh. “Uh, yeah. Right.” Then I remembered the last time there was a Maine get together and how I had greeted him there. Without a hug, that is. There was no doubt that I’d hug everybody else, and I didn’t want to leave John O’Callaghan out this time. “Um… Should we hug?”
John pushed himself off the van’s body and responded, “Yes, please.” He opened his long arms wide and I slid my arms around his lean middle.
We stood there in an embrace for a near minute. Then I muttered, “Now you can’t be grumpy and sad that I didn’t give you a hug.”
“Mm,” he grunted, pushing his face in my hair. He kissed within the tresses of my head once. “Yep! This is definitely a proper greeting.” I could feel his grin.
I started letting go, and John soon got the idea and started letting go as well. “There,” I stated simply, a content smile on my face.
“There,” he repeated, John also grinning, but his, of course, a little teasing. “Now get in the van.”
“Okie Dokie.” I walked over to the side of the van and slid the heavy door open. The wave of that familiar smell and essence just brought a raw, genuine smile to my face. The fundamental nature of this godforsaken van reminded me of long nights and early mornings, grumpy boys and hyper guys, Southern states and Northern states, and even Canada. The smell of the van wasn’t totally polluted yet, but there was a faint trace of it lingering within the air. Other than that, it mostly smelled like Febreze.
“It’s a van,” someone whispered in my ear.
I jumped forward a little and my head snapped over to see Peter there, laughing. “Shut up!”
“Sorry,” he said, still laughing. “But you were just standing there and you had this look on your face like what the hell.”
I sighed and climbed into the back of the van—the all-the-way back—where Pat and I use to sit all the time. When I sat in my normal spot, I started smiling like an idiot, totally excited. “Can we go now?”
My brother climbed in the back and shut the door behind him. Peter was already in the passenger’s seat, and John was just getting back into the driver’s spot. “Yeah, we can go now,” answered Garrett.
“Alright!” I exclaimed, bouncing a little in my seat and my toes dancing around in my shoes.
“Shall we sing together on the way to Pat’s?” Sarcastically asked Peter.
“No,” my brother and I answered in unison.
“Oh, boy,” started John, turning the ignition on with a twist of his wrist. “The twin telepathy thing has already started with you two.” He smiled wickedly. He pushed his black sunglasses up his nose a little and looked over at us through the mirror.
Peter turned around and stared at us quizzically. He looked from Garrett to me, then back to Garrett again.
At the same time, unfortunately, my brother and I asked, “What?”
“Whoa,” Peter said in an astonished whisper. “Are you two really like fraternal twins?”
“No!” Again, Garrett and I answered at the exact same second.
“Sure seems like it,” he retorted, still gazing at us.
“Well we aren’t,” I answered, finally being able to get a word in alone.
“I’m older,” stated my brother, the pride in his voice evident. I rolled my eyes.
“By what, three, four, five minutes?”
“No!” Answered Garrett, running a hand in his hair.
“Shut up, we’re at Pat’s,” John informed us from the driver’s position. We all got out and I was the one to prance up to Pat’s door and ring the doorbell. It was Pat’s mom to answer the door.
She smiled from ear to ear and pulled me to a friendly, warm hug. “Hi, sweetie.”
“Hey,” I politely replied. “Good morning.”
“You, too, dear.” She turned her body so that she could see behind her. I could just distinguish Pat coming our way with some bags.
“Hey,” Pat greeted with a gentle smile and kissed my cheek.
I felt my eyes get a little wide at the fact that Lisa was still standing there. She just laughed at my expression. I could feel my cheeks burn with pink a little, so I tried to ignore it as I said, “Let me carry something.”
“You don’t have to,” Pat replied politely, yet stubbornly.
”No! You have a million bags here, Pat. I-”
Pat chuckled. “It’s okay, Cara. I’m fine.”
“Patrick,” Lisa grumbled and picked up two random bags with ease. If Pat’s small mother could hold them easily, then I should have no problem. “Here, Cara.”
“Thank you,” I responded, taking the two bags from her with a smile.
Pat’s mom, Lisa, smiled a little and had her hands on her slim waist. “See? Was that so hard, Pat?”
“Shut the hell up,” I mumbled into my pillow. The buzzing and vibrating didn’t stop like I had verbally commanded it to, so I flung my arm out and snatch the cell phone. I turned the alarm off and checked the time, even though I knew that the alarm was set to go off at precisely 6:00 A.M., which it was at the moment.
Still pretty groggy from going to bed at eleven last night, I trudged my way to the bathroom. I nearly walked into the wall at one point. It was the same wall—from my bedroom doorway—that I had ran into and broke my toe when Garrett was chasing me when we were in middle school still. Anyway, when I made it into the bathroom, I quickly got a shower and changed into some clothes. It all took about 45 minutes. I decided to wake Garrett up, since I didn’t hear him grumbling about yet.
“Garrett,” I softly said near his ear, poking him in the back. “It’s time to get up, Garrett.”
But Garrett didn’t move. His shoulder muscle flexed a bit under his gray t-shirt, but that was about it.
“Garrett!” I hissed. “You have to get up!”
Under the covers, my brother’s foot twitched a little, as well as the couple fingers that were wrapped around his white pillow.
Okay, what should I do to wake him up? Bucket of water? Yank the covers harshly off him? Scream in his ear? Tell him the band’s here and is waiting for him? Or perhaps Ali?
“Stop trying to think of a clever plan, Cara,” Garrett mumbled, just able to sit up. He ran his hand through his really messy hair slowly in circular motions. It wasn’t helping at all. “I’m up, okay? Go finish getting ready.”
“Alright,” I easily agreed, and went back to my room to do my hair and makeup.
***
“Where are we meeting?” I asked my brother as we carried our bags downstairs, in front of the door.
“Actually, this time, John’s just going to drive the van around and pick us all up,” he exclaimed. “Peter’s with him, too.”
“Oh, joy,” I mumbled, wiping my palms on my jeans out of habit.
Garrett sighed and answered, “Yeah, I know. I don’t know why, but Peter likes you. Or rather, he enjoys messing with you. He thinks you’re neat.”
I scoffed. “You say it like I’m a damn experiment or project at the annual science fair or something!”
“Eh, yeah, whatever,” Garrett mumbled. “He probably just likes the change of having a girl around.”
“Ugh,” I muttered, dropping my last bag on the floor.
“Is that the last of your stuff?”
I nodded. “Are you done, too?”
Garrett scratched his head as he looked over the pile of luggage. “I think so.” He took another second and then stated, “Yep. That’s it.”
I put my hands on my hips and observed the pile as well. “Good. Now I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go get my bag.”
“What the hell! You definitely just said that everything was here, Cara!”
“Oh,” I blankly and simply said. “Well I meant the stuff I packed. I’m talking about my ’purse’ now.”
Garrett stared at me. His eyes had a mix of frustration and boredom in them, which doesn’t even make sense since the two don’t exactly fit together hand-in-hand. “Okay…”
I quickly ran upstairs and retrieved the same tote bag that I had carried around with me not only during when I was still in school, but also in the summer on tour with The Maine. By the time I came back down and slipped on my shoes, Garrett had said that John and Peter had just pulled up with the infamous van, which was linked to the little storage trailer behind.
We put our things in the back quickly with the help of John and Peter. Garrett and Peter were hurriedly talking about something back near the storage trailer, my brother’s hands animate as he spoke. I took this time to greet John, whom was standing in front of the van, leaning against it.
“Hey,” I said, a small smile on my face as I stood in front of him.
“Hi there,” he coolly replied. “What’s up?”
I shrugged and adjusted my bag on my shoulder. “Nothing really. Yourself?”
John motioned lazily with one shoulder. “Same, I guess. Just driving. Well, not at the moment obviously, but you get the point.”
I let out a gentle laugh. “Uh, yeah. Right.” Then I remembered the last time there was a Maine get together and how I had greeted him there. Without a hug, that is. There was no doubt that I’d hug everybody else, and I didn’t want to leave John O’Callaghan out this time. “Um… Should we hug?”
John pushed himself off the van’s body and responded, “Yes, please.” He opened his long arms wide and I slid my arms around his lean middle.
We stood there in an embrace for a near minute. Then I muttered, “Now you can’t be grumpy and sad that I didn’t give you a hug.”
“Mm,” he grunted, pushing his face in my hair. He kissed within the tresses of my head once. “Yep! This is definitely a proper greeting.” I could feel his grin.
I started letting go, and John soon got the idea and started letting go as well. “There,” I stated simply, a content smile on my face.
“There,” he repeated, John also grinning, but his, of course, a little teasing. “Now get in the van.”
“Okie Dokie.” I walked over to the side of the van and slid the heavy door open. The wave of that familiar smell and essence just brought a raw, genuine smile to my face. The fundamental nature of this godforsaken van reminded me of long nights and early mornings, grumpy boys and hyper guys, Southern states and Northern states, and even Canada. The smell of the van wasn’t totally polluted yet, but there was a faint trace of it lingering within the air. Other than that, it mostly smelled like Febreze.
“It’s a van,” someone whispered in my ear.
I jumped forward a little and my head snapped over to see Peter there, laughing. “Shut up!”
“Sorry,” he said, still laughing. “But you were just standing there and you had this look on your face like what the hell.”
I sighed and climbed into the back of the van—the all-the-way back—where Pat and I use to sit all the time. When I sat in my normal spot, I started smiling like an idiot, totally excited. “Can we go now?”
My brother climbed in the back and shut the door behind him. Peter was already in the passenger’s seat, and John was just getting back into the driver’s spot. “Yeah, we can go now,” answered Garrett.
“Alright!” I exclaimed, bouncing a little in my seat and my toes dancing around in my shoes.
“Shall we sing together on the way to Pat’s?” Sarcastically asked Peter.
“No,” my brother and I answered in unison.
“Oh, boy,” started John, turning the ignition on with a twist of his wrist. “The twin telepathy thing has already started with you two.” He smiled wickedly. He pushed his black sunglasses up his nose a little and looked over at us through the mirror.
Peter turned around and stared at us quizzically. He looked from Garrett to me, then back to Garrett again.
At the same time, unfortunately, my brother and I asked, “What?”
“Whoa,” Peter said in an astonished whisper. “Are you two really like fraternal twins?”
“No!” Again, Garrett and I answered at the exact same second.
“Sure seems like it,” he retorted, still gazing at us.
“Well we aren’t,” I answered, finally being able to get a word in alone.
“I’m older,” stated my brother, the pride in his voice evident. I rolled my eyes.
“By what, three, four, five minutes?”
“No!” Answered Garrett, running a hand in his hair.
“Shut up, we’re at Pat’s,” John informed us from the driver’s position. We all got out and I was the one to prance up to Pat’s door and ring the doorbell. It was Pat’s mom to answer the door.
She smiled from ear to ear and pulled me to a friendly, warm hug. “Hi, sweetie.”
“Hey,” I politely replied. “Good morning.”
“You, too, dear.” She turned her body so that she could see behind her. I could just distinguish Pat coming our way with some bags.
“Hey,” Pat greeted with a gentle smile and kissed my cheek.
I felt my eyes get a little wide at the fact that Lisa was still standing there. She just laughed at my expression. I could feel my cheeks burn with pink a little, so I tried to ignore it as I said, “Let me carry something.”
“You don’t have to,” Pat replied politely, yet stubbornly.
”No! You have a million bags here, Pat. I-”
Pat chuckled. “It’s okay, Cara. I’m fine.”
“Patrick,” Lisa grumbled and picked up two random bags with ease. If Pat’s small mother could hold them easily, then I should have no problem. “Here, Cara.”
“Thank you,” I responded, taking the two bags from her with a smile.
Pat’s mom, Lisa, smiled a little and had her hands on her slim waist. “See? Was that so hard, Pat?”