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My True Story

By Amanda Gobeil

Chapter 1

 

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            I was whisked away on a plane from Boston, Massachusetts to Houston, Texas a mere twelve days after I graduated from high school. The past month had been a blur in my memory. I remember such things as marching practice, endless posing for photos , and a brief encounter with my abandoning father- but we’ll get back to that later.

            The morning of my flight I felt disheveled. My friends had previously assured me that although it was to be the biggest decision I would ever have to make, I would have nothing to lose. You see, I was raised in the small town of Kennebunk, Maine. If you’ve heard of it, I’m sure its because George Bush Sr. has a house there. Very bigtime. But if you were to minus him from the equation, (and he is only there three months of the year) you would see a lack of prosperity from any of the inhabitants in the whole county-practically. He does indeed bring in quite an earning from tourists all over the united states who just have to see his home. Or maybe even catch a glimpse of him along the rocky coast in his boat, but those instances are few and far between. I, however, found it a burden to drive through the port any time of day between the months of May and November.

            It was this same port I was driving through the morning of my flight. I had to seal the deal with this guy that was buying my car. I loved that car. It was nothing great, just a ’94 ford tempo, but it was the first of three cars that I hadn’t crashed or broken in some way. He got me on a good day. I sold it to him for $300 dollars due to the fact that I was desperate for spending money once I got to Houston. Stuck behind a line of BMW’s and saabs, and with my mother trailing behind me for the ride back home, I stopped to take one last look of what I was leaving behind. The air was crisp with the smell of the ocean. I could almost taste the fried seafood from the clam shack on my right. For a brief moment, my mind absorbed just what was so great about growing up in new england. I then of course blinked and was brought back to my previous state of mind.

            I had been drinking quite frequently about a month previous to my leaving Maine. Any doubt I had in my mind about moving to Texas was dissolved with a bottle of vodka and some cranberry juice cocktail. That and the fact that one routine night I was sitting down in front of a bonfire, in the middle of nowhere, when it hit me. I looked around at everyone else at the party. Mostly seniors that were graduating with me, but the crowd also included an older group of people. Most of whom I knew, but I realized that I only knew them from parties. So it was suddenly like I caught of glimpse of myself in the future. I could picture myself a few years from that night at one of the same exact parties just trying to make up any excuse as to why the hell I wasn’t out of this town yet.  I didn’t want to be that girl. The one who bought alcohol for minors and itched to find the next gathering. At that moment I felt so small. I closed my eyes, rested back on my elbows and outlined the whole United states in my head with a big red star where Kennebunk dwelled. I let my eyes trail down my eyelids to the rest of the country. Away from the corner of Maine where I felt so sheltered and uneducated all of a sudden. My eyes landed somewhere in Texas, and that was the second I knew I had to ask Erin if I could come along.