I'm so sorry this post is a day late. I had some major writer's block with it and kept tweaking and rewriting it. Luckily, I also took some breaks and wrote some posts from further ahead in the story! I have a clear idea where I want the story to go, and I'm resisting the temptation to rush right into it. There will be another bonus up this week, aaaaand the regular post on Saturday. Let me know your thoughts in the comments!
I looked around my apartment and sighed. Our flight home had gotten in late the night before and I had essentially stumbled into my apartment and passed out.
I hate unpacking. Hate hate hate it. After every trip that I take, I vow that I will unpack immediately, but instead end up digging out my toiletry bag right away, and periodically taking other things out as I need them. I'm not sure if it's the reminder that the trip is over, or the return to the everyday tedium of laundry that puts me off but either way, I avoid it for way too long.
However, this time I couldn't afford to procrastinate. It was Wednesday before the Labour Day weekend, and I only had five short days to get my shit together before school started. Not to mention the tons of engagements that were already cluttering up my evenings.
I sighed once more, heavily, and resigned to my fate, dove in. I dumped out all of my clothes on the floor. Everything had a warm salty smell, as if I had managed to capture some of the Mediterranean inside each garment. I inhaled deeply, tempted to dive into the pile and take a nap, before beginning to sort things into piles for laundry.
I was about halfway through when my cell rang. I jumped up and grabbed it from my bedside table. The caller ID read "Rhiannon," my best friend.
"Hey hey!" I sang out, as I answered.
"Hey yourself!" she screeched into the phone. "How are you, my little world traveller?"
"Oh you know, very sophisticated and worldly. You'd hardly recognize me now that I'm such a glamorous jet setter."
"Well, if you can humble yourself to hang out with my peasant self, I'd love to see you. I freaking miss your face and I want to hear all about your trip!"
"My schedule is filling up, but I've always got time for my main bitch," I joked.
"How about right now? My seminar got out early and after listening to someone talk about treating infected wounds for the last hour, I could use a drink. Wanna hit a patio and help me forget how many times I heard the word 'pus' this afternoon?" Rhiannon was in her last year of med school, and her schedule was even crazier than mine. Every Wednesday, the med students had a half-day seminar and it was one of the only days I could count on being able to see her.
I hesitated for a split second, looking over at my huge, half-sorted pile of laundry. I felt only the tiniest pang of guilt when I answered, "Sounds great! Where are we going?"
"How about The Pumphouse?" she suggested. It was one of our favourite summer haunts because of its two storey patio and cheap sangria. It also happened to be walking distance from my apartment in the university district. "Rachel said she was free, too. I'll pick her up and we'll meet you there in half an hour."
I showered quickly, spritzed my hair with some wave spray, and applied some light makeup. I threw on one of the few sundresses that wasn't currently crumpled on my floor, and headed to The Pumphouse.
By some miracle, it wasn't too busy and I managed to snag an awesome table. As its name would imply, The Pumphouse was an old pump house on the river that ran past the university. A few years ago, some genius had bought it, cleaned it out and turned it into a restaurant and bar. The inside was all old brick and exposed beams, and they had added on the two story patio to one side, which had a nice view of the nasty polluted river.
I ordered a pitcher of white sangria and one of red and sat back to enjoy the summer sun. Winters in the Midwest are long and bitter, but the summers are so hot that it almost makes up for it.
Rhiannon and Rachel just barely beat the sangria to the table. They both greeted me with hugs and squeals about my tan. After we had all poured ourselves a glass, they hit me with a million questions about the trip.
"Was it amazing?"
"Which place was your favourite?"
"How incredible was the Acropolis?"
I laughed. "Down, girls. The trip was phenomenal. I can't even pick out my favourite part, it was all amazing." I launched into a description of each place we'd visited, egged on by occasional questions from the girls. I saved Corfu for the end.
"Corfu was gorgeous, but the Pink Palace was a shit show. You guys would not believe the shit that went down in this place. I honestly never realized how sheltered I was until I saw complete strangers boning on the beach in broad daylight, practically in my lap."
"Oh my god, WHAT?" Rachel laughed, covering her mouth.
"Yes, it was insane. And THAT isn't even the craziest part," I said, lowering my voice. "We met this Canadian couple there and were hanging out with them a fair amount. They were super chill and normal, and we were even considering continuing to travel with them. Then, on our last night there, completely out of the fucking blue they asked us to have sex with them?"
Rhiannon choked on her sangria, sputtering it all over the table, drawing a few glances from the people sitting around us. When she finally composed herself, she said, "Please tell me you're kidding."
"Nope. It was probably one of the weirdest moments of my life. Super awkward."
Rachel leaned in, both hands on the table. "What did you guys even say to that?"
"We basically mic-dropped and ran. We were super freaked out," I said laughing. I hesitated, not sure how much of the real story I wanted to divulge, even to my two closest friends.
The truth was, I had tried to put the Marc and Leila saga behind me, but I couldn't quite get the idea out of my head. The events of that night, especially my reaction to Gavin's imagery, continued to plague me. I wasn't sure if I found it thrilling or horrifying that Gavin and I had almost taken the plunge into such unexplored territory.
Rhiannon, my best friend for ten years, the girl I had grown up with, shared every major milestone and heartbreak with, picked up on my loaded silence. She raised an eyebrow and remarked, "Seems like there's a bit more to the story..."
I should've known she would read me like a book. "Well, we were really freaked out by the idea at first, but..." I trailed off, suddenly embarrassed.
Rachel's eyes were huge. "You guys didn't actually consider doing it?" I could tell that the possibility shocked her. She and her boyfriend, Derek, had been together since high school and had only ever slept with each other.
I took a deep breath before answering. "Well, actually, yeah. Honestly, the whole thing seemed really exciting and adventurous. I think that we just felt really removed from our real lives and our real selves, and it made it easier to do something that would have normally seemed completely insane."
Rhiannon sipped her drink pensively. "That makes sense... But why didn't you go through with it?"
I gave them the rundown of what we'd seen at breakfast the next day. "Knowing that this was something that they did frequently just destroyed the sexy and risky feeling. Suddenly, it just seemed really sleazy and kind of gross."
"Well I think you dodged a bullet," Rachel announced. "Imagine what that would've done to your relationship. I feel like if I saw Derek with somebody else, I'd go crazy thinking about it forever."
"I don't know," I mused. "A part of me wishes the spell hadn't been broken and we had gone through with it. Just the anticipation of it was exciting."
"Then maybe it's for the best that it didn't actually happen," Rhiannon offered. "You guys had a fantasy of what it would be like, and now that fantasy can remain intact. I bet the real thing wouldn't have measured up to your expectations. Things like that are often better left as fantasies, I think."
I contemplated her words for a moment. Maybe the shared fantasy is what had lit Gavin and I on fire that last week.
The subject was changed, and Rachel mentioned that she suspected that Derek was going to propose soon. We listened as she analyzed all of the little clues he had inadvertently given her, and speculated on the when and where of the potential proposal.
It wasn't until I was walking home a few hours later, buzzed from the sun and the sangria, that I realized I hadn't once mentioned moving in with Gavin. I shrugged it off and kept walking, not allowing myself to wonder why I hadn't brought it up.
No comments:
Post a Comment