The Dropout(s)

October 14th, 2022

April Come She Will - Simon & Garfunkel

The sun woke him, peering through open blinds. It lit up the otherwise dark motel room and revealed a floor of dirty clothes, open pill bottles, and empty booze. With a groan, the lengthy boy sat up. Brown eyes searched for a useable cigarette and a lighter. To his luck, an open pack sat next to the bed, a lighter in the drawer. As he took his first drag the blonde beside him shuffled in the hard bed. Looking over he noticed how pretty she was. Her hair was naturally light but her eyebrows were dark. Long lashes sitting peacefully over rosy cheeks. As she slept her chest rose and fell. He took a minute to linger over her uncovered chest, mentally congratulating himself. With another puff, the boy got out of bed, tearing his eyes from the vexing woman. Bare feet landed on jeans and boxers, soon pulled over long legs to shield them from the groggy air.

As the young man wandered the room in search of his belongings he started to think. Think about his old life, his old friends. He mindlessly turned on the small tv, static filling the room as he channel surfed. Eventually, he landed on some morning talk show, a familiar face on the screen.

"So tell us, Tiffany, what's it like being a mom in the spotlight? Especially when the father has been sharing that light with you for so many years now?" The very pregnant woman smiled before answering, a smile he hadn't seen in years. She hadn't aged a day,

"Fantastic. As you know we met through our band The Dropouts and have been inseparable ever since. We may be young but it feels like the right time for us..." something about the interview triggered him, she looked so healthy, so happy. His bandmate sat comfortably starting a family and obviously doing well for herself. She was happy, content, and he was in a motel with some stranger he didn't even know the name of. He started to scan the room, really taking in what he saw. Mysterious stains, cigarette butts, liquor bottles, condoms, needles. Enough was enough, he couldn't do this anymore. He didn't know what day it was, what year. How long had he been away from home? Where was he exactly now? How long had it been since he was completely sober?

The blonde started to shuffle in bed, waking up slowly. The young man was quick to shut off the tv and leave the room. "Fuck," the bright sun blinded him "what now?" he asked himself, shielding brown eyes from the blaring star. His eyes scanned the lot, realizing he was downtown somewhere. He followed the sidewalk for a bit, hoping to find a landline of some sort. He had thrown out his phone years ago- at least he thought it was years- to avoid any contact with the real world.

To his luck, another man was walking in the early morning. He looked to be around the same age, maybe a bit older. "Excuse me?" The other man looked up from his phone, meeting the eyes of a hungover man smelling of cigarettes and alcohol. "What day is it? Better yet, what year? Actually, where are we?"

Confused, the man answered "it's October 14th, 2022. You're in Montreal Canada and you smell like shit. Putain de touriste."

"Right, Montreal. Uh, merci" a scoff was all he got in return. With a huff the man continued down the street, looking for some sort of transportation. As he wandered the city began to wake up. More people left their homes, more shops began to open. His cigarette finally burnt out, falling to the ground and being crushed by his step. It was just as well, he was in dire need of a drink. Turning into the nearest convenience store and heading straight for the sodas. At the checkout he found the tv highlighting the show from earlier. His old friend chatting on the screen, French captions on the bottom. Unable to hear the show he did his best to follow along. My husband had been great blah blah blah the baby is a girl blah blah blah Rocky. Wait. Rocky. He was so thrown off he forgot to translate the rest of the sentence.

"Monsieur?" the cashier broke his concentration.

"Oh sorry, here" tearing his eyes away from the screen and paying for his drink, thanking the cashier before leaving. Rocky. I haven't heard that name in years he thought, taking a sip of the bubbly drink guess I'm back.

His mind was made up, it was time to go home. Determined footsteps lead him to the nearest open store. He needed a phone, a ride, a passport. Where the hell was his passport?

A cafe opened as he searched his jacket pockets, the red open sign catching his eye. Temporarily giving up on his search he made his way in. As he stepped in the door something hit him, a memory. The cafe. The boy with blue eyes and square glasses. Diamond orbs that haunted Rocky's dreams. Something in him knew he would see those eyes again, he had to. It wasn't just another face in the crowd, it was someone. Someone from his other life. "Can I help you, sir?"

"Just a hot coffee, black..." he took out his cash, it smelled like marijuana. "Is there a phone I can borrow? Call a cab... an uber?" Puzzled, the young cashier looked over at their older coworker. "I lost mine, gotta get home you know?" Bullshit.

They seemed to believe him though, the older barista giving Rocky his phone. Quick to call a taxi "do you go over the border? I need to get to the US."