g o i n g , g o i n g , gone.

“—beep— Hey Bee, heard you were moving. It’s been good knowing you; we’ll keep contact, a’ight? See ya. —beep—”

That was it? Hebe dropped her tense shoulders. She’d known Jiro for three years, been the tightest of friends with him for two and a half, and this was all he had to say. As Jiro had always said, as he crossed two fingers tightly and grinned, “We’re this tight, me and Hebe. You can’t blast us apart with a bazooka.” This didn’t have anything personal to it; it sounded more like a Hallmark card more than anything. She had half a mind to phone him back right this instant, when she realized—if Jiro had wanted to talk to her, he would have done so persistently, not left this disgustingly platonic (maybe not even that) message for her. She dropped the phone back into its cradle and furrowed her eyebrows tiredly.

If Jiro, best friend extraordinaire, didn’t even bother to remember where she was moving, even after all those times she’d emailed him telling him about Hong Kong, who would remember where Hebe Tien was going?

The phone rang then, and Hebe perked up from where she sat to pack her clothes. It was only two days until she moved, after all. It could be—just COULD be—Jiro.

“HELLO? Sorry, hello?” She tried keeping her voice level.

“Hebe, it’s me,” Hebe’s shoulders sagged again. It was just her mom. “I just needed to tell you to pack a little faster, because we’re bumping up the move to tomorrow, since the guys who are driving our stuff to the port are packed with appointments. But we get a 15% discount because of this inconvenience! Wahahaha!” Hebe sighed. To her mom, everything was about discounts, sales, and low prices.

“Okay mom. Right, do you need me to make din—“

“NO! I mean.” Hebe stifled a laugh upon hearing the panic in her mom’s voice. They both knew, quite clearly, that Hebe could barely step into a kitchen without blowing something up. “No, there’s no need, Hebe. I’m eating out with my co-workers tonight—I really need to get that one document done before the transfer, so I’m staying at the office late tonight—hey, why don’t you make yourself some....no.....uhh...no...cereal! Make yourself some cereal, okay? Anyways, I gotta go.”

“Alright. Bye mom.” She could barely fit in the sentence before her mom shut off abruptly. Then she went to make herself some dinner. While just about anyone, even a doofus, could make a bowl of cereal, Hebe couldn’t even manage this. While pouring the milk, she got some onto the heated burner (she was going to make lasagna for dinner, until her mom told her not to, and of course, she forgot to turn the stove off). Then, in a frenzy, she took the burner off to wipe down the milk, and burned herself.

Out of this night’s events, Hebe learned only two things: the first being that she should marry a man who knew how to cook, and secondly, that Jiro was definitely not her friend.

I see her from the window outside; watch as she crumples just a little, and I actually feel kind of mad—disappointed, too, kind of, even though it isn’t MY fault per see. I just want to surprise her, anyways. She can’t ever blame me for THAT, at least. (I am not a stalker, to clear things up.)

And then I remember that I’ll be with her soon enough and it cheers me up quite nicely. It’s kind of amazing, really, how if you just know you’re going to do something; whether you actually do it or not doesn’t really matter, since you THINK you’re going to do it. I go home cheerfully, all that guilt from before gone.

Hebe’s mom woke her up late. That could be the reason why she was rushing around, brushing her teeth and getting her jeans on at the same time. Currently, now, it was 9 15, and they needed to be at the airport by 11 30. She grabbed her carry-on bags and rushed out the door to see her mom casually waiting in their van, singing with her 80’s music.

“MOM!” Hebe made a cross face as she chucked the Second Cup mochaccino granola bar at her mom’s head. Her mom ducked in time, and it hit the window and bounced off onto her lap.

“Wahahaha! You missed!” She cackled.

“Well—Pshh, well! It’s the thought that counts!” Only Hebe’s mom would ever let her daughter throw a granola bar at her head. It was some kind of atonement for leaving her daughter alone for such long periods of time.

“Last flight to Hong Kong leaving in five minutes; please start lining up for passport checks.” The speakers crackled, and Hebe looked up at the airport ceiling in exasperation. They’d been repeating that for the past fifteen minutes.

“Hebe, get off the floor and onto a proper seat.”

“I like the floor better.” Hebe murmured back, and watched her mother’s frustrated pout smugly.

When they finally boarded, it took much too long for the plane to take off. Hebe grinded her teeth impatiently, and her mom patted her leg, telling her to calm down just as she fell asleep. The flight took a long time, to say the least. Eventually, Hebe’s mom’s head found its way to Hebe’s shoulder, and, irritated but not wanting to wake her mom up, Hebe nudged her off gently.

“Hello passengers, we’ll be landing shortly and we may experience some turbulence. Please buckle up your seatbelts and prepare for landing.”

“FINALLY,” Hebe cried out.

“SHHHHHH,” the other people shot her devil glares, and somewhere from the front of the plane, a baby started crying. Hebe leaned back into her seat with a frown. Some flight this was.

[[initially written & added april 6 09.