Long Time Gone

Chapter 22

The evening of my last day in NYC ticked away. From the window of my motel room, I watched the sunlight drown behind the numerous skyscrapers of the city, giving off a magnificent crescendo of orange and gold.

As the clock chimed 7 o'clock somewhere, the traffic bustled by in hopes of reaching their designated homes. The people, drained and spent fron the day's deeds, looked forward to rest and sleep. They seemed to live quite an iterative and normal lifestyle, whereas my life was relatively the opposite. Here I was, on the very verge of leaving the city and returning back to the only place I thought would be worse than the purgatory. Canterville Village.

I sighed in growing dread, retreating back to sit on my bed, gazing absently at my fingernails. I couldn't tell if I was really waiting for Bob to visit me. I know the chances of such occurrence were scarce, but some part of me hoped that he will come and see me one last time before my departure.

But as I watched the day die and give rise to a resolute night, my hopes began to diminish. It was quite clear he was not going to visit me. After all, he was a busy man, dealing with new faces every hour while he prepared for the tour. Besides his busy schedule, I saw how nervous he was about travelling to Europe. Maybe his jitters were already giving him a hard time. He won't waste a minute to see someone he chose to resent for the remainder of his life.

I stayed glued on the bed for the next three hours, doing absolutely nothing. Out of the blue, my door was knocked harshly. My hopes did not accelerate though, for that knock was quite familiar and belonged to Jeremy, the old man who sat at the motel's lobby and owned the place. He was probably here to collect his week's rent, which he may have forgotten that I have already paid him.

Sighing, I got up and walked to the door, and without opening it, I asked out loud, "What is it Jeremy?"

"Open up, Princess." It was definitely him. That snarl was very well known.

I groaned inwardly and replied with a hand on my temple, "Jeremy, you're mistaken. I already paid my week's rent."

"Not here for the money, Princess." He answered thickly with a snicker. "Some fella here wants to meet ya."

My eyes widened at that information. The colour from my cheeks drained as I stood frozen on my spot for a moment. With a quick whisk, I unlocked the door and opened it a crack.

There stood Jeremy leaning on the door frame, his old and spotted face close to my own as he wore a smirk. I stepped back in disgust, my eyes glancing to the person who accompanied him. It was a man dressed in complete black. A black long travelling coat, black shades and a black hat.

I gasped when I saw him. It was indeed Bob Dylan.

"Bob." I breathed in shock, barely believing my eyes. "You're here."

He took off his hat and shades, a soft smile on his pale face illuminated by the dim lights of the hallway. He looked at me with a bewildered expression, his breath getting caught in his windpipe in disbelief.

"Told you I'll come." He replied, his familiar accent lacing his tone, cracking a smile on my face.

I stepped back a little and opened the door wider. "Please, come in."

Bob elbowed past Jeremy who stood glued on the doorway. He turned slowly to the old man, remarking, "You can go now. Your assistance was helpful, thanks."

The old man was about to comment something sinister, hence I grabbed Bob by the arm and tugged him inside my room, slamming the door shut in the old man's face.

With a deep sigh, I locked the door and turned to face Bob, my body tensed and eyes wide.

He stood there silently, looking around the room with an observant eye. He eyed the little bed by the window, observed the old furniture that lay around. With a heavy step, he checked the creaking floorboard of the room, sighing when he realized how old and cheap my rental property was. With a disappointed click of his tongue, he finished the survey, setting his gaze back at me.