Pretty When You Cry ୨୧ Rafe Cameron

forty three

Isla was competitive by nature. When she realized everyone around her was leaving in one way or another, she had to do it first.

It was inevitable they'd all leave. She should've known. The only dependable person in her life was her, and she wasn't even all that dependable. Either way, there was a pattern in her life. Her mother left when she was a baby. Her father left to hunt for treasure, then he left her again after finding the treasure only for good. Her brother would leave her over and over again and he'd never forgive her for the things she'd done. Kiara wouldn't be able to withstand Isla forever, she'd leave too. Pope would follow suit. JJ had already left her on that beach only an hour or two ago. Rafe wouldn't be able to do this, it's where he'd draw the line. He'd leave her too.

So she'd beat them to it. She snuck into The Chateau through the back door. Her brother wasn't home though, thank God. She packed a duffle bag full of whatever clothes she'd left there, since most of it was at Rafe's and she couldn't stand to see him right now, she couldn't even think about him. She packed a toothbrush and some toothpaste and bubblegum and a pack of tampons, though she wouldn't need them for a while. She took pictures of her and her friends off her wall and stuffed them into her bag. She packed her flip flops and wore her Converse. All her socks. All her underwear. Two bras.

She left without a trace. It was like she was never there at all. Maybe things would've been better that way.

It was time for her plan now, which was hardly a plan, more like whatever order she did the things she had to do. First off, while awkwardly lugging her duffle bag, she made her way to a car dealership. She was greeted with stares when she walked in.

She told the old man with the big nose and a grey beard she wanted the pink Mercedes in the corner of the lot. It was a nice reliable car. It would get her wherever she wanted to go. It had a backseat for eventually when she'd need it for a damn cradle or whatever babies sit in in cars. She could afford the car. That black card still had eighty million untouched dollars on it.

The man didn't expect Isla to be able to pay in full up front, but when she finished signing papers and finally inserted her card and put in the password, it went through. She shook his hand and headed off.

She would drive to Charleston and book a hotel room. The next day, she'd go wherever she wanted. First step was getting on the ferry, which left in twenty minutes. She made it in perfect timing. She got on and sat on the hood of her new car and she watched the island she'd grown up in blur into the distance. All her friends, her family, the love of her life, gone. Just like that. It was so simple to cut them all out. She didn't feel a thing. She'd turned to ice somewhere along the lines.

Her phone kept going off, dragging her back to reality.

John B
Please tell me JJ is lying Isla
You cannot be pregnant

Where are you??
Where's all your stuff???

Answer me!!!!!!!

Kiara
Hey, your brother said you cleared out your room?? You good? What'd JJ say to you?

Rafe
I'm sorry that this is happening
I'm here for you love
Where are you??

Pope
Hey Isla. JJ is saying some crazy shit about you being pregnant. I wanted to check in on you

She left all those texts unanswered. Then she threw her phone off the ferry.

———

A five star hotel. An ice cream sundae. Black and white  television. A hot shower. Avoiding looking at her stomach when she got out of the shower. Fluffy white hotel robe and slippers. Fresh sheets. Charleston skyline.

Isla wanted nothing more than to drink that expensive bottle of complementary Prosecco sitting in the corner.  But she was pregnant. She couldn't. It wasn't about her anymore. When it came to numbing her own suffering, Isla didn't care about the cost. Not anymore. But now it was about a whole other life.

So she decided to forget in the simplest way she knew that didn't involve substances. Sleep. She slept for thirteen hours that night. When she woke up to sun blaring through the windows, she ordered room service. A croissant with chocolate ganache and a yogurt parfait.

Her reality and her fantasy were merging together. Being alone made it easier to pretend. To pretend she didn't have years of trauma accumulating into something bigger. To pretend she didn't just run away from the love of her life. To pretend she wasn't actually pregnant. She was a girl with an endless bank account and the world to see.

That week she drove from Charleston to Richmond Virginia to Philadelphia to New York City. She found an apartment and got a lease on it.

The next week she went home decor shopping. She adopted a kitten from the side of the road. She cut her hair to above her shoulders. She slept all day most days.

Another week passed. She decided to be responsible enough to book an appointment to check on the baby. She used a fake name. She went to the nearest Barnes and Noble and bought ten books. She painted her nails.

The fourth week passed. She thought about Rafe everyday. She started writing Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath quotes on the walls of her apartment. She started a journal. She went to a public library and got on a computer just to find out she was now a missing person. She went home feeling like she was Gone Girl.

A month passed and she cried because she missed Rafe, she missed his bed and the smell of his aftershave and the hoarseness of his voice in the morning. She missed Kiara's unwavering support and Pope's sensibility. She missed JJ's irresponsible personality and his trouble. She missed her brother making her tea and toast.

Two months passed and she found a new routine. She read for a few hours a day, painted too. She took her cat for a walk in a stupid animal backpack she ordered from Shein and she rode the subway to Central Park. She'd get a salad and some ice cold water. She'd go back to the apartment and play loud vinyl music. She'd sleep.