Chapter 5

I hadn’t even been gone for a minute.

With that, I dialed Clarice’s number.

The call was connected right away, and Clarice’s angry voice rang through. “So you finally decided to talk?”

I asked, “Where’s the journal?”

She paused. “Home.”

“Snap a picture and send it to me.”

“James, must you be so aggressive? Kyle feels bad enough.”

I clutched my phone. “Just send me the photo.”

The line went quiet for a few seconds.

Then Kyle’s sobbing voice came in the background. “I’m sorry, James. I didn’t mean to. I thought it was junk and put it on the table because it looked old, but coffee got on it.”

I closed my eyes. “Clarice, pass the phone to him.”

Clarice didn’t sound pleased. “What are you trying to do?”

“I want to ask him why he felt the need to go through my suitcase.”

Kyle’s crying grew louder. “I wasn’t digging through your stuff. I wanted to pack you a scarf. I swear that was all.

Clarice said, “He’s only trying to help. Stop assuming the worst of people.”

I let out a scoff, my throat tightening. “The journal had the ticket stub given to me by my late grandmother.”

Clarice fell silent.

The ticket stub was from the last train ride I took with my late grandmother.

She said that wherever I went in the future, I should always leave myself more options.

Then, she was gone.

I clipped the ticket stub on the very first page of the journal.

Clarice knew that.

She was the one who carefully stuck it into my scrapbook after our high school graduation trip.

I heard the rustle of pages turning on the other end of the line.

Soon, Clarice spoke in hushed tones, “It’s damp, but it’ll be fine once we air it out a little.”

Kyle added. “A few pages are stuck together. I tried to separate them, but the paper ripped a little.

I asked, “What about the ticket stub?”

No one said a thing.

I asked again, “Clarice, is the stub still there?”

Kyle whimpered, “I don’t know. The page was too wet. I didn’t want to get it moldy, so I threw out a little torn piece.”

With my vision going dark, I held onto the back of the chair to stay on my feet.

Clarice panicked a little. “James, don’t get ahead of yourself. We’ll get it restored.”

“Restored?” My voice was barely a whisper. “How are you going to do that?”

“It was just a ticket stub.”

Clarice probably realized how bad that sounded and paused, her voice softening. “That came out wrong. The point is, we can figure something out when something is broken. You don’t have to blow up over the matter.”

Just a ticket stub.

Merely a scrapbook.

It was just me.

Kyle wept, “James, take it out on me if it makes you feel better. Don’t blame Clarice. I stopped her when she wanted to chase you to the airport this morning.”

Clarice murmured, “Don’t cry. It’s not your fault.”

It wasn’t Kyle’s fault, apparently.

Whose was it then?

It was time to board my flight.

I listened to the announcement while fighting back the tears.

“Clarice.”

She responded right away, “Go ahead.”

“You can keep the journal.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Whether it’s damp or ruined, just dump it.”

A silence took over the call.

I uttered, “After all, the promise you wrote inside, that you’d take me wherever you went, had already been broken long ago.”

Clarice’s voice was strained. “Where are you, James? I’m coming to you right now.”

I stared at the line in front of the boarding gate.

“Don’t bother.”

“James.”

Her voice sounded sincere for once.

Too bad it was too late.

I ended the call and blocked her number.

Boarding the plane, I presented my single ticket to the gate attendant.

She said with a smile, “Have a nice trip.”

I nodded.

Right as I stepped onto the boarding bridge, someone shouted my name in the back.