ANDREW
28
“STARTIN’ EARLY, AREN’T YAH?” the bartender says as he slides a shot across the bar top and into my hand.
“If you’re open and serving already, then it’s not too early.”
It’s already three o’clock in the afternoon. I left Camryn alone early this morning, well before eight. Kind of odd that we’ve been on this trip together all this time and neither of us ever thought to, or wanted to, bring up anything about swapping phone numbers. I guess it didn’t matter much since she and I were always together. I’m sure by now she’s long past wondering if I’m ever coming back, maybe wishing she had my number so she can find out if I’m alright—the glass on the cell is broken, but it still works. I’m starting to wish that it didn’t though because Asher and my mom have tried calling dozens of times already.
I intend to go back to the hotel, but I’ve decided that it’ll only be to get Aidan’s guitar from the room and to leave a plane ticket for Camryn on my bed. The room is paid up for two more days, so she’ll be alright. I’ll leave her money for a cab ride to the airport, too. It’s the least I can do. I’m the one that talked her into this shit with me. I’ll be the one making sure her way home is paid in-full and that it’s not a bus this time.
It ends today.
I never should’ve let it go this far, but I was delusional and blinded by my painfully forbidden feelings for her. But I think she’ll be alright; we didn’t sleep together and no one said those three damning words that would definitely make things more complicated, so yeah…I think she’ll be just fine.
After all, she never gave in to me. I basically laid the option out on the table for her: If you were to let me f*ck you, you would have to let me own you. If that wasn’t a blatant invitation then I don’t know what is. Not very romantic, but it is what it is.
I pay for my shot and leave the bar. I just needed something to take the edge off. Though, for it really to do any good at taking this kind of edge off I would’ve had to drink the whole damn bottle. I slide my hands down inside my pockets and walk the length of Bourbon Street and Canal Street and eventually down streets I don’t even recall the names of as I go past the signs. I walk forever, everywhere, much like on mine and Camryn’s sporadic road trip with no direction or purpose. I just go.
I think I’m not trying to waste time so that the night falls and I can slip in and out quietly while she sleeps, but I’m wasting time hoping I’ll change my mind. I don’t want to leave her, but I know I have to.
I end up at Woldenberg Riverfront Park, sitting along the bank of the Mississippi and watching the ships and the ferry as it travels back and forth to and from Algiers. The night falls. And for the longest time my only company is a statue of Malcolm Woldenberg, until two girls, obviously tourists judging by the I Love NOLA t-shirts, walks up.
The blonde one smiles coyly at me while the brown-haired one goes in for the kill.
“Partying anywhere tonight?” She cocks her head to one side looking down at me. “I’m Leah and this is Amy.”
The blonde, ‘Amy’, smiles at me in a way that I know all I’d have to do is ask her to f*ck me and she would.
I nod, trying to be polite, but don’t offer my own name.
“So? Partying tonight, or not?” the brown-haired one asks, sitting down next to me on the concrete.
I’ve already forgotten their names.
“No, actually I’m not,” I say and leave it at that.
The blonde sits down on the other side, drawing her knees up so that her shorts hike way up her bare thighs.
Camryn looks better in shorts like that.
I just shake my head and look back out at the Mississippi.
“You should come with us,” the brown-haired girl says. “There’s a lot of action going on over at d.b.a tonight; you look bored as hell.”
I glance over at her. She’s pretty hot, just like the blonde, but I find myself completely turned off the more she talks. All I can think about is Camryn. The girl has wounded my soul. It’ll never be the same.
I scan the brown-haired girl’s legs and then watch how her lips move when she says, “We’d really like you to join us; it’ll be fun.”
I could…if I’m leaving and intend never to see Camryn again, maybe I should leave with these two, get a room somewhere else and f*ck them both. I’m pretty sure at the rate things are going that they would do each other in front of me. Been there, done that a few times and it never really gets old.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I was waiting for someone.”
I have no idea what I’m saying, or why I’m saying it.
The brown-haired girl leans over and puts her hand on my thigh.
“We’d be better company,” she says in a sultry sort of whisper with all of the obvious overtones of a girl who has had way too many one-night stands.
I move her hand off me and stand up, thrusting my hands back inside my pockets and leave. Any other time I might be on it, but not today.
Yeah, my soul is probably wounded beyond repair. I’ve got to get out of this city.
As I walk away from the two girls without saying a word, I hear their voices fluttering on the air behind me. I don’t give a shit what they’re saying, or how rejected they feel. In an hour they’ll be riding some other guy’s cock and will forget they ever spoke to me.
It’s after midnight now. I already stopped at an internet café and purchased Camryn’s plane ticket to North Carolina online and afterwards stopped at an ATM and withdrew more than enough cash to pay her cab ride to the airport and one home from the airport in North Carolina.
On my way into the front lobby of our hotel, I ask the front desk clerk for an envelope, a piece of paper and something to write with and then I sit down on a couch in the lobby and write Camryn a note:
Camryn,
I’m sorry I left like I did, but I know I couldn’t say goodbye face-to-face. I hope you’ll remember me, but if forgetting me is easier then I can live with that, too.
Never hold back, Camryn Bennett; be sure to do what you want in life, say what you feel and never be afraid to be yourself. F*ck what everybody else thinks. You’re living for you, not them.
The code below is what you’ll need to give to the airport to get on your plane home. All you’ll need is your I.D. The plane leaves tomorrow morning. The cash is for your cab.
Thank you for best two weeks of my life and for being there for me when I needed you the most.
-Andrew Parrish
KYYBPR
I read the note over five times before I’m satisfied with it and finally fold it and place it with the cash into the envelope.
I make my way to the elevator. One last hurdle is slipping out without Camryn knowing about it. I hope she’s still asleep. Please just let her be asleep. I can do this if I don’t have to see her, but if she sees me…No. I have to be able to do this either way.
And I will.
I step out of the elevator on our floor and make my way through one long, brightly-lit stretch of hallway past several rooms. Seeing our rooms out ahead makes my stomach swim nervously. I walk past quietly; worried that my shoes shuffling across the floor might be enough to let her know I’m out here. There’s a DO NOT DISTURB sign hanging on her doorknob and I don’t know why but seeing it causes my stomach to twist up in knots. Maybe because the only time I’ve ever hung one of those on a hotel door was when I was inside getting laid. The thought of Camryn being f*cked by some other guy….
I grind my teeth together and walk past. How insanely pathetic was that? She’s not even mine and I just got raped by a crazy-jealous reaction.
The sooner I get out of New Orleans, the better.
I slide my card-key in my door and slip inside the room. It looks exactly the way I left it: clothes strewn near my bags and Aidan’s guitar propped against the wall underneath the mounted light fixture. I move through the room, gathering up everything and have an oh-yeah moment when I realize I probably would’ve left my chargers in the wall if I hadn’t of seen them at the right angle when I passed. I unplug them and shove them along with my clothes down into my bag. Lastly, I hurry into the bathroom to get my toothbrush from the sink.
Camryn is standing in the doorway when I walk back out.