Long Time Gone

Chapter 8

That night, I slept on the pale pink carpeted floor of my hotel room. Sleep came only for two hours, accompanied by nightmares of loosing Bob in the New York's music scene. When I woke up with a jolt, my face tear streaked and my hair a mess- I realized that my nightmares were true, and that I did lost Bob in the state's music scene. His absence had left a thick and discomforting essence in the air.

My heart, previously filled with every jealous emotion towards myself and Bob, was now only brimmed with guilt, sadness, anger and regret. I was feeling guilty of the profanities I had screamed on my poor lover. I felt sad on the way he handled the situation, comforting me despite my rage. I felt angry at myself for cursing his good luck and not being a supportive friend in such a big leap in his life. And finally, I was in complete regret for ignoring his constant telephone calls last night.

Yesterday, an hour after our argument on the telephone call, the hotel housekeeper again racked my door, saying that Bob Zimmerman had called for me. I told her to leave me alone and replied no further. And she did leave me- but she was back for not one, two but eight times- poor girl. Eight times Bob called for me, and eight times I never brought myself to answer.

The housekeeper, upon notifying the last phone call and receiving my rejection, added in her goodbye that Bob wished me good luck on the phone, and said how much he loved me. She further added that Bob was off to road to New York and he wished to speak to me for the last time before he did so. But I didn't answer. I just stayed glued on the room floor with my head in my hands.

And now- when the morning befell upon me, I was missing Bob dearly. Missing him like I have never missed him before. I craved for his sweet gentle touch, his lovely caresses on my cheeks, his lips on my mine and his curls entangled in my fingers. I missed the way he talked to me- his sweet accent. I missed the way he touched me for comfort, the way he snuggled in my neck every time we went to sleep. I missed his instruments and his singing. I missed everything about him.

It felt like a gaping hole has opened in my heart, eating me inside out. I had no motivation to get up, no inclination to go to work and no heart in doing anything. I just stayed rooted to my weeping spot on the floor for hours- reminiscing about Bob and wondering when he'll call me back, if he hopefully still likes me.

The day passed in a slow, depressive manner. When the evening arrived and the grandfather clock struck 7pm, I finally decided to get up and eat. I showered, straightened out my hair, wore a simple collared shirt and tucked it under my flannel skirt. I ordered a cup of coffee and toast from the room service. Upon finishing with what I had to eat, I decided to untangle my mind and take a walk across Boston's roads.

Hence, I slipped on my pumps, grabbed my satchel and keys before dashing out the cramped hotel. It felt like I was choking indoors from remorse, but as soon as my face hit the fresh evening air of Boston, my mind was temporarily relieved of any tension.

I walked aimlessly around the main roads and streets of the city, allowing myself to observe every store and people before me. I passed numerous record shops, clubs, bars and cafes- all of which were glowing from colourful luminous lights in the evening and where lively with crowd. Finally, a smile slowly itched on my face.

As I continued to stroll and observe, I came across a theater- and I immediately gasped. Never in my life had I ever experienced a night at a theater. It's very architecture excited me, as it had long cemented pillars, off-white bricked walls, red long carpets, purple drapes and glass windows- all of which sparked the essence of art and history. A significantly large billboard displayed the performing act of tonight, highlighting, "Tommy Moore and His Magical Ten Doves."

"Wow", was all I could whisper, my eyes wide from the beauty before me. Theaters impressed me not only because of their architecture or performing artists. It impressed me because its plays, its musicals and its ballads comprised of so much history. The actors, their costumes, their scripts held their own past, their own meaning. Additionally, the stage setup, the lightings and the crew behind the magic that took place on the stage was truly amazing to consider. Everything about theaters was magnificent to me. It was old but gold.