We Go Down (Bremmy 2)

Chapterish 55

DEPARTURES

I'm below deck in four minutes tops, already collecting my bikini tops, dresses, and panties from around the room. I've never packed a bag sooner. Even with Trix distracting me the whole time.

"Bae, you don't need to go. Brooks SUCKS. I get it, like I've already killed him off in my head, but we are sailing back to Florida this afternoon," Trix says, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I can't stay another hour with him, let alone all afternoon." I toss my toiletry bag from the bathroom and it lands on the bed next to Trix.

"We fly home tonight," Trix reminds me, like I am not already counting down the seconds.

"You fly home tonight. You fly home with a fiancé who actually loves you. You fly home to a future that actually exists," I whine exasperatedly. "I fly home right now. Alone. Just booked."

I step out of the bathroom, phone in hand, and show Trix my newly booked confirmation.

Direct flight from Nassau to Seattle.

"Departs in two hours," I say, finally sitting down on the bed. I pull on my hoodie, a small comfort on this breezy island day.

"If you're sure-" Trix pauses.

"I am."

"You're still ...coming to the wedding, right?" Trix asks, reticent.

"What? Trix, of course!" I grab her hands and hold them in my lap. "You're my best friend alive or dead, I'm not missing your wedding, especially not for some douche canoe like Brooks. Don't even say that!"

"Right, good!" Trix shakes the doubt from her head, her hair fanning me with that familiar watermelon fragrance.

"Wouldn't say no to you uninviting him though," I grin. Trix's eyes meet mine, widening. "Relax, only kidding. I'd never mess up your bridal party like that."

"I'll see you, babe," Trix smiles.

"In one month," I remind her.

She dances out of the room behind me.

I roll my suitcase through the narrow hallway and drag it up the stairs and onto the deck. I laugh to myself thinking about Trix already killing Brooks off in her head. I relate.

I'm burying his pensive eyes and tufts of hair in the past, locking away his abs and his heart in an impenetrable safe that even time can't crack.

I'm already forgetting his name.

...

Brody called me a taxi to the airport, and it rolls up right on time.

I make quick work of the goodbyes. Everyone gets a hug. Well, with one exception. Brooks is MIA. Nowhere to be seen, which is 100% fine by me, considering I don't want to see him.

Ever. Again.

Stepping into the taxi is like removing my rose-colored sunnies. I'm seeing things clearly for the first time in longer than I care to admit -like 15 years longer.

I recall something I felt earlier this year about wanting epic love, the tragic kind you see in sad movies.

Fuck me.

Be careful what you wish for hasn't had meaning until right now.

There is a fraction of a second when I think maybe I overreacted. Maybe taking a month to discuss our future plans wasn't the craziest suggestion. Maybe Brooks was right.

Then the second passes and I remember his words 'I just don't know what I want right now. Everything is too much.'

Whatever he wants now, it's not me. It's not us. I won't be his back-up plan.

With conviction I remind myself that it's best he did this now. Instead of at the wedding or next year or in five years. He's never been someone I could count on. He never will be.

My phone vibrates inside my bag, but I don't even attempt to fish it out.

Three chimes = three unread and uncared about text messages.

I force my eyes to watch the road through the scratched window of this 100 year-old taxi. I count the palm trees just to give my mind something to do.

I used to think that Brooks and I were meant to be -that the universe wanted us to be. New Years flashes in my brain right now.

29 palm trees.

Right now in this moment, I'm thinking maybe the universe was testing us. Maybe it wanted to see how many times the same two dim-witted fools would make the EXACT same mistake.

Three times is the answer.

Thirty minutes and too many to count palm trees later, the taxi turns into airport. My eyes read the Welcome to Nassau International sign as we pass under it. My flipflops hit the uneven pavement as I step into the tropical heat and enter the NAS airport.