by Adeera Lake
“He said good luck.”
“That’s it? No emotions whatsoever? Didn’t he ask ya to stay??”
“No Lis, he didn’t.”
“Ok, listen, whatcha wanna do?”
“What do you mean Lis? This is a great opportunity ya know? What am I supposed to do? We aren’t together, and we haven’t even talked about it. It’s been a fling that’s it. As much as I am against those kinda things that’s what it’s been.”
“But Grace, you are damn in love aren’t ya? The tone of your voice tells me. The way you talk and the things you say.”
I feel my cheeks burning and my heart going crazy. I wonder if she’s right. Is this love?
“Oh Lis, I don’t think is-”
“Do you love him yes or no? Come on Grace, look inside and don’t lie to yourself.”
I pause feeling butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “I don’t know Lis. I don’t know.”
She sighs. “Oh my God Grace. So, you are just leaving like that?”
“Yeah, I am, and I just wanted to tell you this. Your apartment will be perfect and cleaned don’t worry about it.”
“Oh, shut up, I don’t care if it’s clean or not, but I care about you, and I don’t want you to see you like that!”
“Lis, I’m fine! I’ve found a wonderful job on a spectacular island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean! Is there anything better than that?”
“I’m not so sure about it but hey, you know what I always say about love and faith, so I don’t have to start preaching ya again, right?”
“Oh no, please spare me!” I cry jokingly.
“There ya go.” She laughs.
38
Zac
I’m sitting solo, on a stool at an Irish bar down in Soho. The place it’s not crowded.
The stench of whiskey and beer accumulated in years impregnates the wood of the counter and floats in the air. It’s been a while I haven’t gotten seriously drunk but tonight I’m committed to doing it. I deserve it. I sneer at myself keeping my palm around the pint of dark beer I just ordered. Next to the beer lays a glass of old Jamison Whiskey.
‘Story of my life uh? My damn sister made me think I could be like any other.’
I even try to blame it on Chelsea but deep inside I know it’s me. I must have something inborn that, one way or another, makes the girls I like run away from me. That’s why I decided to just fuck them all, and before running into Grace that’s what I did. But damn it! She slowly got me. And now here I am, feeling miserable and disappointed about life and girls again, sitting on a bar counter, getting myself drunk.
The drinks I keep gulping are countless and anytime I pound a pint, I immediately down the glass of whiskey. After a couple of hours, the bar starts to get crowded and a hot brunette wearing tight leather pants eyes me lasciviously from the other side of the counter. I grin at her and with a barely perceivable movement of the head, I let out a slight nod. She bites her bottom lip sexily and smirks waiting a few seconds to get up from her stool and slowly walks toward me.
“Hey,” I groan keeping my eyes on the beer in front of me. I see her with my side vision sitting on the stool next to mine and smiling flirtatiously.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” She says.
“Matter of fact I don’t. I prefer action instead,” I growl avoiding her glance.
“Wow,” she says using a sarcastic tone. “Wanna show me some action then?”
I’m almost tempted to release my frustration, but suddenly something makes me change my mind. It never happened before.
I think about Grace and my heart starts beating fast.
‘What the fuck am I doing here? Grace is leaving tomorrow! Zac, you stupid fucker!’
I feel dizzy and the urge to throw up is strong, but with an effort, I manage to keep it cool. I grin, and I slam two hundred-dollar bills on the counter. “Keep the change!” I groan.
The girl stares at me seemingly baffled.
“Not to ya babe, not to ya…” I finally reply as I barely stand on my feet. Then I make my way through the crowd and leave the bar.
I’m perfectly aware I drank too much. My vision is blurry. My legs are weak, and I can’t help but staggering on the sidewalk as I try to walk home. I’m not a fucking prospect. I can hold liquor very well but tonight I really overdid it, and what’s funny is I did it on purpose. But as much as I’m completely drunk, I thank God that I haven’t gotten into that trap. I’m glad I got out of that bar alone without doing the slightest thing with that girl. I didn’t even talk to her to avoid any possible ‘drunk’ temptations.
I realized I want Grace, and I’ll fight to get her. I feel stupid not to have understood this earlier. Now I can’t let her see me like this, but she said her flight is in the afternoon, so as soon as I’ll recover from this shit I’ll go talk to her. First thing in the morning.
39
Grace
It’s over. That’s it.
It’s Thursday evening and I’m walking home after my last day of work. This will be my last night in NYC, and in Lisa’s apartment.
I stroll down to Soho, taking my time to carefully enjoy my last walk home through the streets of Manhattan. I look at the little trendy restaurants, the cafés, the bars, feeling a heartache sensation. I got used to living in this wonderful city, and I’ll miss it a lot. Then I casually glimpse through the windows of a bar that seems very cozy, and I’m almost tempted to walk in and have a drink, but suddenly my heart skips a beat.
I blink and widen my eyes trying to have a better look. But I’m right.
Zac is sitting on a stool, and he’s apparently talking with a sexy brunette.
I bit my lip tightly, my eyes get watery. There was a part of me that hoped - like in a movie - to have been chased by him at the last moment. I would have cried and told him I loved him, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, and kissing him passionately.
‘How foolish.’
I slowly shake my head letting out a bitter smile and I walk away.
On my way back, I stop at Dean & DeLuca to get an apple fritter to-go. I always loved them!
I try to get into the right mood. ‘I’m leaving for a new adventure!’ I keep telling myself.
‘I’m about to start working in the field I love. Besides, I’ll live in Hawaii. People pay to go there for a week. But I’ll get paid to do what I like on a wonderful island! Yay!’
But there’s something that stops me from being utterly fulfilled and enthusiastic about the whole thing. Only a week ago I’d been out of the moon. Yet, after what happened with Zac, and I don’t mean the sex part, which was spectacular by the way, but the way we started connecting. The fun we had, the way we disclosed ourselves to each other, the new things I discovered about him. He has been capable of pleasantly surprising me each time I saw him. It’s been a crescendo of feelings, emotions, and finding out new beautiful qualities I’d never thought he might have had.
However, I’m perfectly aware perfection does not exist. He is a free spirit and I can totally understand that. I shouldn’t be expecting anything from him in the first place, and I knew that! That’s why I didn’t want to get too close to men in the first place anymore. To avoid what happened. Yeah, we were not a couple. We have never even said anything about being a couple. But in the back of my mind, I hoped he cared. I hoped he thought I might have changed the way he looked at the world and he would have changed mine. Only now do I realize that I secretly dreamed of being loved by him. My inner self has always loved him, and now that I’m leaving this city I admit it to myself. That’s what it was. But if I’d been too proud and scared to confess it even to me, how could I have ever done to him? Would that have changed something? I don’t think so. He’s not the romantic kind of guy. He plainly said he has been hurt when he was a kid and he has never even considered getting involved in a serious relationship.
He’s just like that. He’s become a snarky bastard. And despite the qualities, I think he has, he will s
tay that way. And what I’ve seen a few minutes ago confirms my theory. He has easily forgotten me. I was one among many. And that’s it. I can’t blame it on him. Certainly not. I only blame it on myself and my sensibility. I wish I were able to just have fun, in every kind of ways, with a man I like physically, and manage to never let feelings be involved. But as much as I tried, I failed. The good news is this may not hurt as much as if we had been together for a long time. It won’t hurt as much as if we’d been a real couple. Maybe it won’t hurt that much.
My real regret is what it might have been. If we’d only let ourselves go, we could have been perfect. I’m sure about it. Or maybe not?
I sneer shaking my head slowly. The only thing I’m sure of is I think too much, and that’s my ruin.
My mind was so busy that I suddenly realize I’m almost at Columbus Plaza. I feel so bad for Nick too. He called him sick and I couldn’t say goodbye to him. I tried to get hold of him on the phone, but he wouldn’t pick up. I’ll write him an email as soon as I settle down. The general manager seemed quite annoyed when I told him I was quitting without the standard two weeks’notice, but I didn’t have a choice.
“Good evening Miss Lords.” Lawrence’s cheeks look redder than usual. Maybe because it has started to get really cold outside. That’s probably why is already into his cubical watching something on a little TV screen.
“Hey, Lawrence! It’s time to say goodbye!” I squeal.
His eyes widen quizzically.
I giggle biting my thumbnail. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I got a new job out of town.”
He seems baffled but after a second of hesitation his puffy red cheeks swollen even more, and he let out a bright smile. “Congratulations Miss Lords!” he says enthusiastically.
“Thank you!” I reply. “So, I wish ya the best alright?” I smile, and we exchange a polite handshake.
“Thank you, Miss Lords, same to ya!”
I disgustingly realize his cubby palm his sticky and moist, but I try to keep a cordial smile until I turn; and as I walk toward the elevator, I instinctively rub my hand on the front of my coat.
40
Zac
The sunlight beams through the blinds directly on my face and I can feel it in my sleep. I grunt, and I struggle to open my eyes. A sudden pain irradiates through my head as if a thousand knives were digging into my skull. A grimace springs on my face as I grit my teeth and clench my jaw. Then I remember I’ve drunk like a motherfucker last night.
This is the worst thing ever. Drinking and forgetting about it only to wake up with a damn painful hangover.
‘Damn!’
I feel nauseated and I promise myself I’ll never touch an alcoholic drink again -I’ve made this promise almost every time I woke up this way, to say the truth, but anytime I did it, I always meant it. The only problem is, perhaps, I just have a short memory in terms of hangovers. But then again, I’m a social drinker.
Last night was an exception.
Then I remember.
I widen my eyes and the beam of light flashing into my pupils make me squint my lids tightly. My heart starts thundering. I look at the clock over the door and I curse myself for having slept this late.
“Fuck!” I groan loudly, jumping out of my bed, wearing the first pair of jeans I find on the floor. Then I stomp barefoot to the restroom and when I turn the switch on, I frown at my own face. My eyes are puffy and reddish. My hair is disheveled, and my stubble is longer than usual. I feel like shit. I’m still dizzy from the whiskey and beer I downed last night. My mouth is dry, and my tongue feels like sandpaper. I wish I could go back to bed and sleep for twelve hours. But I’m not going to let her go. I might be late already, but I’ll run to the airport and try to catch her. She needs to know how I feel about her.
I wash my face with cold water; then I go back to my room to quickly wear a clean white T-shirt and my leather jacket, where I keep my wallet, and I hurry to the door slamming it behind me as I race to the elevators.
“C’mon! C’mon!” I murmur between my teeth as the elevator goes down. But my frustration and anger reach unimaginable levels when I hear the ding on the fifth floor.
The doors slowly open and a man, resembling a yuppy from the eighties, nods at me and steps in.
I clench my jaw. I’m almost tempted to run to the stairs, but I know it’d be only a matter of seconds before we get to the first floor, and the elevator it’s still the fastest way. I breathe in deeply, slowly releasing the air from my lungs as the doors close.
‘Move motherfucker!’
The yuppy glances at me quizzically with the corner of his eye as I stand only a few inches from the elevator’s silver sliding doors, and when they finally open right after the usual ding, I rush outside, and I start running toward the exit. When I’m out I instinctively turn right and jog toward Columbus plaza, glimpsing back at times, to see if I spot any available cab on the go, but I almost bump into somebody, and I avoid him at the very last moment.
“OOOOHH SHIT!” I blurt loudly, at the same time realizing I almost crashed into our concierge.
“Good afternoon Mr. Byron!” Lawrence smiles seemingly amused by the escaped collision.
“Yeah, I’m sorry!” I groan catching my breath while I keep running as fast as I can without turning back to him.
A couple of blocks before the corner, where I’m sure there’s a taxi stand, I glimpse back at the street and I an available cab coming in. I rapidly jump down the sidewalk on the road and I wave my hand yelling. “Hey!”
The cab seems to drive away but then I see the red lights of the brakes and the car stopping abruptly. Without thinking twice, I run toward the yellow cab and I get in. “To the airport!”
“Which one?” The driver asks.
‘Shit! I haven’t considered this.”
I look at him speechless for a couple of seconds, trying to think sharply and quickly. My heart races and I’m still panting due to the sudden race.
“My girlfriend is going to Hawaii and I need to give her something, but I don’t remember what airport she was gonna leave from, do you know?”
He gives me a questioning look and then smirks. “You remember the company? The island?” He asks raising his eyebrows.
“The big island! I don’t know the airline!” I promptly reply.
He looks up as if trying to remember something. “Ok, it should be Kennedy,” he says.
“Ok, go! Just go! I’m late!” I lean on the front seats and I stretch my arm showing him a hundred-dollar bill. “This is a bonus if you get me there as fast as you can.”
“Sure Sir.”
He forgets to look in the left mirror and drives away making smoking tires and causing a couple of upcoming cars to honk persistently, but he ignores them and speeds away on the road.
41
Zac
As the car cruises fast on the freeway, I slide my hand into my pocket. The ring I’ve bought for Grace is still there and as I toy with it with the tips of my fingers I let out a half grin. My heart thunders envisioning her expression once she sees me at the airport. However, there’s something that keeps bugging me since I’ve gotten in the cab. I don’t what it is, but it’s like if in the back of my mind I had the sensation that something wasn’t quite right. The problem is I can’t even understand what my concern is about.
It’s very weird.
When the cab pulls over in front at the terminal I toss the cash in the front seat and I frantically get out slamming the door. People eye me worriedly.
As soon as I get inside the large building, I rapidly look at one of the many screens that report the ongoing flights. I frantically scroll down with my eyes, looking for Grace’s flight but It takes a couple of screen switches for the flight to Hilo to show up, and when it does I rapidly scan to its right to check the gate’s number. But I frown in despair when I realize that only passengers with a boarding pass can actually reach the gate.
‘Shit!’
I grunt in frustra
tion. Then I trot to the airline’s check-in, hoping she hasn’t gone through security yet.
When I get there, I’m stunned to see how packed the check-in is. I carefully scan the huge line, but there’s no sign of Grace.
My mind is overwhelmed by frenetic thoughts.
The weird sensation I felt since I got in the taxi keeps on irritating me, and at times, dull cues flash into my mind. Yet, I still can’t understand what it is.
‘Shit!’
I clench my jaw, standing still for a few seconds, staring at attendants behind the check-in counter. Then I decide to take the plunge and try.
As I walk forward, a few persons in line glare at me. “I’m sorry it’s gonna be real quick!” I groan letting out a forced smile.
“Excuse me?” I groan at the lady, busy with the boarding luggage process.
She ignores me.
I snort, trying to keep my rage under control. “Excuse me?” I ask one more time.
She keeps on typing on her computer and then handles two boarding pass to the customers in front of her. Then she smiles. “Next in line?”
I chuckle frustratingly. “Hello??” I raise my voice. “I’m trying to talk to ya here, would you listen to me or what?”
She slowly turns and raises an eyebrow looking at me like if I were an extraterrestrial. “You need to wait in line, Sir.”
My heart starts pounding fast against my ribcage. I’m raging with frustration. I hate that phony, polite, distant behavior they have been taught to use to deal with impatient customers. Yet I know I’m not going to obtain much if I lose it.
With a tremendous effort, I breathe in and try to keep calm.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I know there is a line and I really hate the ones who try to skip it. I never do this but it’s an emergency. I only need to know if my wife has checked in already. She has forgotten her heart pills!” I frown, hoping she’s not going to ask me to show the pillbox I obviously don’t have.