It's not like I officially ran away. Actual running away is when you just can't take it anymore-your family or school or life in general-and you hop a bus to some big city, change your name, and find a job clearing plates or checking coats at a restaurant. Or worse. If you fall in with the wrong people, there's no telling what you'll end up doing. Actual running away means you don't intend to come back, ever. But that's not what I did. I always planned to go back home.
I took a train from Philadelphia to New York City last night without telling Dad. I would have told him if I'd actually seen him before I left. But he wasn't home, and I didn't have time to wait around, so I just left. He thinks I'm spending the night at my friend Casey's, which I used to do sometimes. Little does he know Casey and I haven't spoken to each other in weeks.
So, no, it wasn't running away.
That's where Audrey Hepburn and I are different. She ran away for real. She had no intention of going back to being Lulamae Barnes from Tulip, Texas. Which I can totally understand. Her life pretty much sucked back home. And so does mine.
I call her Audrey Hepburn, but really I mean Holly Golightly-you know, from Breakfast at Tiffany's, a.k.a. the best movie ever made. Have you seen it?
I read somewhere on the Internet that Truman Capote, the writer who created the character Holly Golightly, really wanted Marilyn Monroe to play the part. Can you imagine? Marilyn Monroe, with her platinum blond hair and little girl voice, playing Holly Golightly? No way. Audrey Hepburn, long and tall and with that way of calling everyone dahling… she's the only one who could have played that part. As far as I'm concerned, Holly Golightly and Audrey Hepburn were pretty much made for each other.
If you haven't seen Breakfast at Tiffany's, go to Netflix and watch it. Seriously. Right now. Or at least check out YouTube for the opening credits, which last, like, two minutes. Trust me. Besides, if you watch it, the rest of this story will make a lot more sense. Maybe you'll understand where I'm coming from. Maybe you'll understand exactly what happened. And why.
I finally did something worth writing about. The kind of thing that stories are made of. Mom would have liked that, I think. She was a writer. To her, nothing was more important than stories. Especially if they were true.
Anyway, I didn't really run away like Audrey did in the movie. Holly, I mean. But we both ended up at the same place anyway:
New York City.
Tiffany's.
For breakfast.
