Lost in the Darkness // Billie Eilish

Part XIX

I twist and turn in my coffin-like bunk. Trying to get some sleep on a bumpy road feels like an impossible task.

My eyes are bloodshot, I can feel it. I'm exhausted and fatigued, I'd do anything to get a decent night's rest right now. It's the one time of day I actually have downtime, but I can't seem to use it properly. It's so frustrating, I almost want to cry.

I mentally add 'insomnia' to my list of problems and roll over on my back, staring at the ceiling of my bunk. I see nothing, of course, which doesn't aid my discomfort or relieve my stress.

I turn on my side again and fight the urge to call Emma.

I fail.

My subconscious knew I wouldn't have lasted long.

Unlocking my phone and clicking on my recent contacts, I call her. She answers on the second ring.

"Hi, Billie." Her voice is clearly tired, but soft and harmonious.

"Hi Emma. I'm sorry for waking you, I don't know what time it is over there. Truthfully, I'm not really sure where I am right now. It's just bumpy and I can't sleep and it's driving me insane and I miss you." I quickly realize I'm rambling and stop, letting out a sigh. "Im sorry. I'm tired, Emma."

"Stop apologizing, Billie. You never have to say sorry to me. Especially when it's not your fault."

My default response was to say sorry, but I end up saying nothing instead.

"What can I do to help?"

"Just talk to me. Are you doing okay? Miss me yet?" I smile lazily.

"I'm worrying about you a lot." She admits. "I'd like to call you more but I know you're busy most of the time."

"I'll try to let you know what my schedule looks like in advance, so when you're free you can talk to me whenever. How's that sound?"

"Perfect. You're perfect."

"Have you looked in the mirror recently? You're an angel. Dude at the airport thought so too."

I hear her laugh gently through the phone.

"What's he say?" I pry.

"That he thought I was beautiful and wanted to take me out. I don't know why he would say such a thing when we were clearly holding hands. Romantically. So I called him a, um," she thinks briefly for a moment before translating. "A half-witted idiot. A few profanities may have slipped out before that."

I chuckle at her attempt to censor herself. "Men feel entitled to people and tend to ignore obvious red flags. The question is, how many of them are gonna feel like that now that I'm not around?"

"Are you jealous?" I can hear the smile in her voice.

"A little." I don't bother lying.

"Don't be. I have been fighting men off with sticks for a good portion of my life. I'll be okay."

"You know I won't hesitate to fly back to Prague, right?"

"I know. I'm flattered, but that isn't necessarily a good thing. You should be so engrossed in your job that you'd do anything to stay. Do you not enjoy what you do?"

"I do. There's just a lot of bad parts. And that's become even more apparent now that I don't have anyone to distract me from those parts. At the end of the day, a job is still a job. You learn to love and hate it. Don't you feel the same way?"

"I can't say I do. I love journalism, therefore I love my job."

"You've never once hated it?"

"No. But perhaps I'm a bit biased. I met you because of the job I have. I'm forever thankful."

"I guess I could say the same, huh?"

"I would hope so."

Emma yawns and I believe she shuffled in place for a bit before starting a new conversation. "Did you read the journal yet?"

"Oh shit, I almost forgot about it." I turn on the flashlight on my phone and dig my hand into the complimentary pocket in my bunk.

After flipping through the first page of the tiny book, I'm met with what seems to be a poem.

"It's a small collection of my favorite poems. One to read each night. Some are originals but most are by other poets."

My heart warms as my eyes trace the words on the page. A particular stanza, grabs my attention.

𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚌 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 ; 𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚑𝚘
𝐼 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢
𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑢𝑠
𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒.

"Thank you." I say wholeheartedly, unable to erase the smile off of my face. "I told you, you were an angel."

For another hour or so, we talk about nothing and everything at the same time. My eyelids become heavy and my entire body relaxes as sleep attempts to engulf me.

I listen to the therapeutic sound of her voice for a for more moments before completely letting myself go.

"Goodnight Billie, I love you."