Chevelle had never been great at goodbyes.

Growing up where she had around the people she had, goodbyes were rare. People died in the towns they were born in. Lived in the same pink brick houses for generations. Where Chevelle was from, a friend was a friend for life, and a partner a partner for life.

When her family had left Haiti, Chevelle's best friends, Stéphanie, Beatrice, and Roseline, had thrown her a going away party. They threw it at Beatrice's house while her parents were away on holiday and they invited almost everyone in their class. More people than anticipated had shown up for the party, and Beatrice had been worried that someone would hurt themselves or damage the house, but nobody did. It wasn't wild or raging like parties usually are once they cross the threshold of 50 people; this party was calm. It was fun, but it was peaceful. Everyone seemed genuinely sad that Chevelle would be leaving the country. They had all known each other since they were babies, so it felt like losing family—even to the people who didn't particularly like her.

They had danced, drank, eaten, and played games until the sun went down and came back up, and when people finally went home, it wasn't teary; it was hopeful. They were sure they would see Chevelle again.

Things didn't become teary until it was time for Chevelle to say goodbye to Stéphanie, Beatrice, and Roseline. They cried and cried for hours. They spoke of how they would become rich one day soon and move to America with Chevelle. How they would live together in Los Angeles in a penthouse suite, entertaining sexy boys from morning till night.

When Chevelle thought back to that day, it felt like it had been a completely different person making those promises. Her years in the US had changed her beyond what even she could comprehend. She wondered, if she went back now, would her friends even recognize her? Was she too Americanized to still consider Haiti her home? She missed it to the very core of her being, but she couldn't deny the part of her that feared she no longer belonged there. The part of her that wondered if her people still felt her absence.

She and her friends had kept in touch for a while. It had been easy the first two years, maybe even the third year, but as more time passed—as people's lives moved forward—it became harder to keep looking back. Humans were not built to carry on long-distance relationships. The only time it proved worth it, was when people were maintaining a connection with someone they would one day see again. Someone they would once again hold in their arms.

As the prospect of Chevelle's return became less and less likely, the work of keeping up with her friends became more and more of a chore. She still loved them dearly, and she knew that they loved her too, but it became this unspoken understanding that maybe their love was better from afar. More appreciated when it didn't feel like so much of a burden.

They still talked every now and then, but it wasn't nearly as often, and it wasn't the same. Big things happened in their lives, and they only told each other about it after the fact. In fact, Chevelle hadn't even told any of them about her suicide attempt. And why would she? What could they do from all the way over there when all she really needed was someone beside her?

It was strange to wake up from a multiple-week coma and realize that nobody from back home even knew something was wrong. That they talked so infrequently that not hearing from Chevelle for a few weeks hadn't worried anyone. It made Chevelle feel like maybe it had been a mistake for her to survive the coma. Nobody from back home had missed her, and everybody here seemed to want her gone.

She wished she had died, but she was too scared to try again because she had an eerie feeling that she would not fail a second time.

Chevelle had begun to reach out more after that. Even if it felt a little bit like a chore, it was worth it to know that her network of support back home had not completely dried up. That if she chose to go back, there would be people there, waiting for her.

Chevelle talked to Stéphanie more often than she talked to Beatrice and Roseline, but then again, they had always been a little closer to each other. They were like sisters. They had grown up in houses right across the street from each other, eating breakfast in each other's kitchens, getting bullied by each other's older brothers. Mrs. Dèsanne felt like a second mother to Chevelle, just as Nadègine had been for Stéphanie when her mother couldn't be there. It was easy to talk to Stéphanie, even when there wasn't much to say.

Chevelle eventually told Stéphanie about her coma and the suicide attempt, and it was nice to finally speak about it with someone who didn't immediately tell her to seek therapy. Someone who knew that all Chevelle really wanted was someone to listen. It was better than therapy, in fact, being able to talk about her experience with someone who had seen Chevelle grow up. Someone who understood that Chevelle was always soaking up other people's problems like a sponge, never having anywhere to unload her own. Someone who knew that even the slightest shifts in environment affected Chevelle deeply. Someone who understood that what Chevelle really needed, above all, was to come home.

Stéphanie had invited Chevelle home. Told her that she now lived in the city with Roseline and their new friend Esther. That there was always space there for Chevelle. That Roseline was now engaged and would be moving out once she got married next year, so it was actually perfect.

This had been two months ago. Chevelle hadn't taken it as seriously at the time, but now, she was really considering it. Wondering if this was the sign she had been waiting for all these years. If today, as she packed up the last of her room, taking down the posters from the walls, her old journals and notebooks from the drawers, the faded t-shirts from the closets, if this was really goodbye.

And how fitting would it be? A final farewell to both her family and this wretched year. It was December 31st; a time for new beginnings. A time for letting go of the past and what once was. Embracing what could be.

When Chevelle had finished packing away her things, she decided to pass by her parents' room before leaving. She had considered just quietly slipping out of the house—it was definitely the more tempting option—but she knew that her parents would be hurt by that. Although they would never admit it, they would still be hurt, and Chevelle didn't want to add another item onto the extensive list of all the painful things they refuse to address in their lives. They had enough issues as is.

She knocked on their bedroom door and when she heard no response, she slowly pushed it opened.

Chevelle entered her parents' bedroom to see them both still asleep, but when she closed the door behind her, her mother stirred and then slowly opened her eyes.

"Chevelle?" She rubbed her eyes, squinting up at her daughter. "Kisa w'ap fè?"

"I'm leaving," Chevelle said. "I wanted to say goodbye."

At the sound of her voice, Chevelle's father groaned in his sleep, turning around in the bed but not waking up.

"You're leaving?" Nadègine repeated, sitting up in the bed. "What do you mean?"

"I'm going back to my apartment," Chevelle said. "I've packed all my things."

Now Antony opened his eyes, a frown on his face as he looked at Chevelle silently.

With a sigh, Chevelle sat down at the edge of their bed. "I also talked to Farah last night," she said, watching for her parents' reactions. They both looked at each other, and Chevelle couldn't decipher what either of their looks meant. "She told me about what happened during my coma."

"What happened?" Nadègine asked.

Chevelle gave her mother a pointed look. "What you guys did to her," she said.

"What did we do?" her father asked, now sitting up as well, folding his arms across his chest.

Chevelle looked between her parents, wondering if they really didn't know what she was referring to, or if they were just trying to torture her a little more before she was finally out of their grasp.

"She told me that you guys blamed her for what happened to me," Chevelle said. "That you told her it was her fault I was in a coma. Is that true?"

Antony clenched his jaw, looking down at his lap in the way a father always does when they realize not only that they've been caught in 4k, but that the person who caught them was their own child. He looked away in a way that told Chevelle he knew he was wrong, but that he would never acknowledge it. Would never apologize for it, because parents didn't apologize to their children. Because parents didn't have to be accountable to their children.

Nadègine sighed, looking over at her husband like she wanted him to answer Chevelle's question, but quickly realizing that it would take nothing short of an act of God to get him to speak. She turned back to her daughter.

"We didn't blame Farah for anything," Nadègine said. "We just wanted her to take more responsibility. To know what's going on in her sister's life."

"She did know what was going on in my life though," Chevelle said. "Much more than either of you did. I chose not to share certain things for my own reasons; it's not like she could read my mind. Also, I'm not Farah's responsibility. You're my parents. I'm your responsibility."

"Are you saying this was our fault?" Antony asked.

Chevelle frowned. "Papa, I didn't say that. I'm just saying that you can't put the blame—or whatever you want to call it—on Farah. She didn't make or neglect me into doing anything. In fact, it's not anyone's fault."

If they really wanted to blame something, they should blame capitalism, but Chevelle didn't know how to explain that to her parents in a way that they would understand. How to do justice to all the intricacies that weaved into each other, creating One Big Reason for why she had done this.

In their world, you just pushed through your suffering—put one foot in front of the other until the day you died. But Chevelle didn't want to live in that world. Chevelle wanted to live in a world where you didn't have to suffer to survive. Where people didn't have to go homeless or hungry when the earth had every single thing they needed to survive already on it for free. A world where she didn't have to leave her homeland in search of a "better life" because a handful of greedy people had destabilized their government, overthrown their leaders, and been draining them of resources for centuries.

It just didn't make any sense to Chevelle. People having more money and wealth than they could ever spend in thousands of lifetimes, while other people lived their entire lives in need. Suffering all the way from the womb to the casket. While people died every single day—every single second—for easily preventable reasons. And for what?

Chevelle wanted to explain this to her parents, but she knew they wouldn't understand, and in her mind, it was better not to give them the chance to misunderstand her. To hold her truth alone. To save it for someone who would truly appreciate it.

"Look, Manman, Papa, there are a lot of reasons why I tried to...do that." She couldn't bring herself to say the word 'suicide.' Not with the way her parents were looking at her. Not when they hadn't uttered the word once in the months since. "There were many different things making me feel that way and I felt like I couldn't talk to anybody," Chevelle said. "Not just Farah. Even you and Josephe hadn't known. Even Jared hadn't known. And I'm really sorry for what this has done to our family; I would take it back if I could, but I can't. I've been trying so hard to move forward since then, but it's just been so hard." Her voice cracked, and she sighed, wiping away her tears before they could fall. She looked away from her parents.

"Anyway," she said, pushing through the shake in her voice, "I'm leaving now. And I don't want to leave on bad terms with you, but I also want to let you know that as long as Jared is welcome here, I won't be coming back. And I know it's my fault for telling him about our status, but I just can't. It's too hard for me. I don't want to go through this again."

She let out a deep breath, feeling instantly lighter now that she had gotten all of this off her chest. Now that she had finally been able to be honest with her parents.

Chevelle looked up at them and could see in both of her parents' demeanor that they were not happy about her sudden departure—that they would miss her—but still, they didn't fight her on it. Neither of them asked her to stay longer, and she wondered if it was because they wanted to respect her boundaries, or because, on some level, they were relieved to get rid of her. To finally have some peace in their house.

They said their goodbyes and Chevelle got up and hugged them both, lingering as she did so. She wasn't quite ready to leave, but after the speech she'd just made, she didn't have much of a choice.

It just felt so sudden. So final.

She had just expected...more. More of what, I do not know, but she had expected more of it.

When Chevelle had hugged both of her parents, she stood by their bedside awkwardly, still waiting for that thing she couldn't really explain, but that she knew she needed. Just when she was getting ready to give up and leave, her father reached forward and gripped Chevelle's forearm, pulling her close.

Antony looked into Chevelle's eyes and said, "I love you, cheri. So very much. And I am sorry, too."

Chevelle's eyes brimmed with tears as she looked at her father, nodding rapidly.

For the first time in months, she had hope that their relationship could still be saved. That they could one day be as close as they used to be. Maybe even closer.

She had said she was tired of halfhearted apologies, but this didn't feel like that. Her father had never apologized to her before. He had said many a time that it wasn't part of their culture—parents apologizing to their children—so the simple fact that he had said it—that after everything Chevelle had just told them, he had looked her in the eyes and said it—meant more than anything any other person could have told her.

Chevelle left her parents' room with a smile. With the burgeoning hope that she would be back. Even if not tomorrow, or the next day, she would be back.

When she entered her bedroom, she saw Josephe sitting on her bed, looking around at the empty room with nostalgic eyes. She apologized for the way she had left him last night and he told her that it was okay. That she had nothing to be sorry for. And then, Josephe offered to help her take her things out to her car, and so together, they made the two trips up and down the stairs.

"You should really tell Manman and Papa the truth about Seline," Chevelle said as they exited the house for the last time. "As mad as they may be," she said, "they'll get over it, trust me. Besides, I'm already the family failure, so you really have nothing to worry about."

Josephe laughed, helping her squeeze the final bag into the trunk. "Thank you," he said. "I'll think about it."

"Okay." Chevelle gave him a pat on the shoulder, smiling up at him. "You'll feel a lot better not having to hide. And I haven't spoken to her much, but from what I have seen, she seems very sweet. I think they would love her."

Josephe smiled knowingly. "Yeah," he said, his eyes faraway. "They really would." He pulled Chevelle in for a hug, which surprised her, because Josephe had never been much of a hugger. Even as a child, he hadn't really liked people touching him. Especially his sisters. "Thank you, Chevelle. You're very wise," he said. "Annoying, but wise."

Chevelle rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep from laughing alongside him. "Well, that's one thing we have in common," she said. "The annoyingness, not the wisdom."

"Ha ha, very funny," Josephe muttered, palming Chevelle's head just like he used to do when they were little. She swatted his hand away but couldn't wipe the smile from her lips.

In many ways, Chevelle really enjoyed being with Josephe. She felt like he was always different when he was away from their parents' watchful eyes, but she had never really spent time with him away from home like she had with Farah. She felt like one good hangout session away from here was really all they needed to build a solid foundation.

"Okay, I should get going," Chevelle said, taking one last look at their house, trying to drink everything about this moment in. The chipped paint marring the walls, the sound of the windchimes as the cool morning breeze blew through them, the morning scent that just smelled different here than it did anywhere else.

She would miss this place.

Chevelle got in her car and started it. She waved at Josephe as she began to back out of the driveway, but before she could leave, he ran forward and tapped at the passenger window. Chevelle frowned, lowering the window for him.

Josephe leaned inside, using all his self-control not to comment on her exposed ignition wires, which Chevelle appreciated.

"Hey, um...I just want to say that I'm sorry for how I behaved when you came to visit my house," Josephe said. "I shouldn't have treated you like that. You didn't deserve it. And if you'd still like to, I would love to have you come up and visit me and Seline sometime. Maybe for my birthday? We're having some friends over."

Chevelle smiled. "I'd love to come," she said, surprised to feel herself tearing up again.

It had been such an emotional morning, but in the best way. She'd never really been close to Josephe. Growing up, she'd always just figured that her relationship with Farah was enough. She would never have thought that something as small as an invite to Josephe's house would make her so emotional. She hadn't realized how much she really missed her family.

Josephe and Chevelle said their goodbyes, but unlike the goodbyes she'd said with her parents, this felt more like a 'see you soon.' Josephe's birthday was only a month away, and it gave Chevelle comfort to know that he wanted her there to celebrate with him.

The drive home felt easier than the drive there had felt. Knowing that her cozy apartment was waiting for her, just as she'd left it, gave her a certain warmth. Something to look forward to.

Since she hadn't eaten that morning, Chevelle decided to stop for some breakfast on the way home. This time, it was broad daylight, so she was less worried her car would get broken into, but still, she sat right by the windows where she had a clear view of it for the entire meal.

She stopped at the same diner she had come to on the way here, and part of her wondered if she would run into Abel. If maybe, he'd spent the night with Avery, and was just now heading home. She prayed that she wouldn't see him, both because of what it implied and because of how rough she was looking, and she got her wish.

She didn't see Abel while she was at the diner, but she spent the entire meal looking for him. Watching both her car and the door. Sneaking glances at every booth, looking for a glimpse of his lush hair, his broad shoulders, his tanned skin.

Eventually Chevelle left, both happy and disappointed that she hadn't seen him. She drove the rest of the way home wondering if she had made a mistake by leaving. If she hadn't fought hard enough for him. It wasn't every day that someone so perfect for her came along. She didn't like many people—most people, in fact—so had she really done the right thing by letting Abel go?

Chevelle tried to play music to take her mind off of him, but all that did was remind her of him even more. She'd shared all her favorite songs with him. Sat in this very car as they bonded over this stuff. How was she ever supposed to listen to her music again without thinking of him? She had made such a rookie mistake, blinded by his smile. By the way he made her feel.

She had let him into her heart before making sure that he actually planned to stay. And now he was gone, and he'd taken bits of her with him.

Chevelle decided, instead, to finish the drive off in silence. To crack open the windows and listen to the sounds of the cars whizzing by. The sounds of wheels on gravel, of birds chirping. The drive was still long, but it was bearable. And when Chevelle got home, she called Sasha and told her she was back in town, and Sasha told her to come over for a New Year's pregame.

And so, Chevelle spent her New Year's evening with her two best friends, Sasha and Crystal, who were also, incidentally, girlfriends. She went to their apartment where they caught up with each other over two bottles of white zinfandel, and at some point in the night—after Chevelle had finished telling them about the horror story that was her Christmas holiday—Sasha started making plans for the future. Plans that would ensure Chevelle never had to suffer through another holiday like this one.

"Next Christmas, we should do something together," Sasha said. "Just the three of us."

Chevelle smiled. "Ooh, yes. If I'm still here, I would love that."

"If you're still here?" Crystal repeated. "Don't tell me you're thinking of going back to your parents' place..."

"No, no, no. God, no," Chevelle assured her. "But I have been seriously considering moving back to Haiti. I started making some plans."

A somber silence fell over the room, and Chevelle felt guilty for dropping such a bomb on her friends right before they were supposed to head out for a fun night. There was never a good time for news like this, but that still didn't make it any easier to stomach.

Finally, Sasha just sighed. "Damn," she said. "You can't take a bitch with you?"

They all laughed, and Chevelle said, "I really wish I could. It would definitely be better with you there. Both of you."

"Yeah. I understand though," Sasha said with a sigh. "I think about moving back to Portmore all the time. Honestly, I would've probably done it years ago if it wasn't for this one," she said, pointing over at Crystal.

Crystal smiled sweetly at her girlfriend. "It's not my fault," she said. "If you want me to keep my hands off of you then stop being so sexy."

Sasha laughed. "You see what I have to deal with?" she asked Chevelle.

"Hey, she's not wrong," Chevelle said, holding her hands up in surrender. "And I mean, come on, if you're trying to fool people into thinking you're straight, Crystal is really the least of your worries."

"Meaning what?"

"Come on," Chevelle said again, giving Sasha a knowing look. Sasha just raised her brows in question though, and so Chevelle said, "Dude. Have you seen yourself lately? I don't know how to tell you this, but..." she trailed off before finishing her sentence, and the implied ending sent Crystal into a laughing fit of her own.

"Baby, you look gay!" Crystal said, finishing Chevelle's sentence for her. She leaned in and gave Sasha a soft kiss on the cheek, before whispering in her ear, "And I love it."

Sasha groaned. "Oh God," she said, smiling now. "If y'all don't leave me alone, I'm about to start wearing dresses and shit."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?" Chevelle asked. "With those legs? Come on now."

"Right?" Crystal said. "Like, bless us, please."

With a laugh, Sasha said, "You know what? I just might. But enough about my amazing legs. If you're not here next Christmas, Chevelle, then we'll just have to take to take a trip somewhere."

"A trip where?" Chevelle asked.

Sasha shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "But we'll figure it out."

As the night went on, they kept drinking, and once everyone was sufficiently buzzed, the three of them went out to a bar where they met up with some other friends and got completely shitfaced.

Chevelle danced with more people than she could keep track of that night, and when the year changed, she shared her New Year's kiss with some random man. The person she happened to be dancing with at that moment.

She probably wouldn't have kissed him if not for tradition, and she quickly realized that it had been a mistake. After giving him one kiss, he was greedy for more. He kept kissing and kissing Chevelle, and she was too drunk to really stop him. After a while, he asked her if she wanted to have sex. He told her that he would show her a good time. That he was kinky, and immediately, Chevelle was turned off.

In her experience, whenever a man said that he was kinky, all it meant was that he liked to choke women without asking them first.

Of all the self-proclaimed 'kinky' men she had encountered in her life, not even one of them had been willing to let her peg them.

Now that was kinky.

And as she turned the anonymous man down, she found herself missing Abel through it all. The way he never pretended to be something he wasn't. The way he knew his strengths and leaned into them.

She tried to run away from her feelings, but she couldn't. Everywhere she turned, she was reminded of him. She was reminded that, when it came to Abel, she had never been in control. And that no matter how much she may try to make herself hate him, she never would.