This is part of my novel, "What Losing You Did to Me". To start at the beginning, click here. Right now a new section of my book posts every week. I wanted to wait until it was all written and then release it as an e-book, guys, but I am SO not motivated. Posting every week is going to help.
Wow, that drive was long. My head is still swimming from the dizzying amount of farmland I'd seen in the last 12 hours.
But now that I'm here I can see that this town hasn't changed in the past year at all. I don't know if I should be
surprised. I guess I'm to busy looking everywhere I walk for signs of Aainn to
notice much, anyway. I have a crazy thought that somehow a billboard will appear
pointing right at him. Like: Lost love, go this way. Man-crush, here! Hah. As if.
As I walk towards the hotel from my bus stop, I can't stop
thinking about my plan, all laid out like the carefully starched
shirts in my suitcase. Is there a flaw? Will it work? It's dangerous,
for sure. But it has to work. It has to.
I switch my case to my other hand, pulling at the hotel door. The
Hotel De Mur—the place where your wedding will be held in just
three short weeks. Of course I'm staying here, even if it did cost me
almost 6 months of wages. Anything to be closer to Aainn. And of
course being a hotel resident gives me the run to snoop
I'm glimmer-spelled, some rich kids daughter in for summer to
check out the college. Fake name, fake generated passport; the
purchase thereof my other 6 months of wages procured. I wish I
could just glimmer-spell my passport. But they know how to check for
that sort of thing.
Pretty soon I'm all locked up in my room showering off the last
remnants of the North. It's like watching the last year of my life
disappear down the drain.
The water pools around the floor while I'm searching for a towel.
Five minutes later I'm air drying my hair on the plush pillows and
flicking through the Air Tube channels. It's so nice being in a bed.
Out north we sleep in hammocks strung from trees when it's warm or in
a tent in the colder months. When we return to KI there are dorms
where we might stay a night or two if waiting on instructions—but
mostly we just turn in our samples and head back out.
I never realized how much I owned until I started backpacking. Or
how little I could survive off of.
As I start to doze off I'm remembering the first time I told Cielen about Aainn. We'd been
traveling together for six weeks at that point. It was night, and
we were sitting around a campfire trying to stay warm. He'd said
something about love. I can't remember if it was about his sister or
his mom or about the fact that his dad had left them a long time ago.
I hadn't spoken much at that point. I think part of me was still in
shock from running. I was afraid talking about it would make it more
But I knew I'd have to anyway. Over the next few weeks my story,
from orphanage to college, from college to love---it all fell out of
me. Sometimes I cried but mostly I just talked. And it felt so good.
Looking back now I can see that those journeys started the healing
process—the healing process that has lead me to this day and
provided the courage to return.
I'd never seen Cielen so livid as the night when I finally spoke
of your grandfather's deception. It's funny—I know how much my
heart was broken by that man, and I know the depths of despair I
suffered. But I didn't think how it might affect others. I think
that was the first time I realized I wasn't alone anymore.
I'm not alone anymore.
And neither are you Aainn. Neither are you.
Click here for the next part.
Picture credit here.