I haven't cooked dinner in what feels like an eternity. However, I'm not so much focussing on what I'm cooking as I am on my thoughts about the news. I can't believe I'm free to go home, Lizzy was right. It only took a couple of weeks for it all to blow over and for a greater tragedy to take the general public's minds off of us. I'm relieved, but at the same time, confused as to what the next move should be. Of course I miss London and my family, but I don't know if I want to leave Lizzy just yet. She trudges into the dining room and plops herself down at the dinner table, clearly still getting over the hours of sex.
"You still tired?" I ask.
She nods and sets her head down on the table. "You're working me to death."
I turn the stove off and smile to myself. With a pasta fork, I scoop up spaghetti from the pot and place it into a bowl, one for me, and one for Lizzy. I pour the red sauce over the pasta in the bowls and bring them to the table, setting one down right in front of her.
"You know I was watching the news..." I start as I sit down. "And they didn't mention us at all. There was this terrorist attack in Miami, that's all anyone's talking about."
She raises her eyebrows and lifts her head from the table. "I told you," she says. Her eyes move to her food and she moves the bowl closer to her. She twists the spaghetti in a circular motion, tangling the food into a neat, edible ball at the end of her fork. "So are you going to leave?"
Her question takes me by surprise. I thought it was something only I was thinking, but it doesn't look that way. It seems Lizzy is as reluctant to let me go as I am to leave her. I purse my lips and look down at my food. "I don't know..."
She glances at me before shoving her food into her mouth and chews for a long time, refusing to make eye contact again. I do the same and we sit in silence, eating and wondering what will become of us. It's only until after we're both done eating and she clears the table when she speaks again. She takes my plate from my hands and says, "I hope you stay just a little bit longer."
I do. I spend the next five days with her; cooped up inside the safe house watching whatever movies she had on DVD. For the next several days I would smoke cigarettes, drain the house of cognac and get a few last rounds of sex in before my departure.
"What would you do without me, Liz?" I asked her. We were cuddled on the couch watching Pulp Fiction, downing what Hennessy we had left. "If I leave for London, what will happen to you?"
She looks at me for a long time before staring down into the brown liquid that bottomed her glass. "Maybe I'll just stay here for a while," she said. "I might move back to New York, I don't know. I don't have anywhere I'm supposed to be."
It was after the first night we stayed in Texas when she started doing her hair up in curls again. Seeing her with her hair in retro curls would make it harder for me to leave her, that look reminded me too much of the time we spent together in Vegas. I don't remember when I decided I would leave; I must have done it subconsciously. But it was a decision I would stand by, despite how hard it would be. I decide the leaving process should be like taking off a Band-Aid, quick and painless.
It's eight at night on my fifth day in the lone star state when I decide tonight is the last night I'll spend with Lizzy. I don't want her to know what I'm planning in fear that she'll say something to make me pity her and want to stay here. I want to make tonight count since I'll be gone within the next twelve hours, so I try not to think of how Lizzy will react to discovering an empty bed in the morning.
I walk to a corner store that sits down the street from the safe house, picking up chips and soda Lizzy's asked me to get a few minutes earlier. I notice they have a display of flowers sitting on the outside, so I buy a dozen roses as a way of apologizing in advance. It's a scorcher in El Paso today, even as the sun begins to set in the West, the air is still as hot and as dry as ever. Dressed in jean shorts and a tank top, I'm still sweating.
I bring the flowers and the food home to Lizzy who takes immediate notice of the roses and blushes. "You didn't have to..." she says.
I know, but I'm leaving you alone in this redneck border town in the next few hours. It's the least I could do, I think to myself. "I felt like it," is all I say.
We watch a movie and smoke half a pack of cigarettes while making easy conversation before going to bed. It was always the same routine with her; but at the same time, there was always something new. I wish I could settle down with her, living a married life with good sex and deep conversation was my idea of the American dream. It's about twelve in the morning when we head off to our usual before-bed routine. It only takes her a few minutes to orgasm before shifting over into my arms and almost immediately falling asleep, even without returning the favour. I don't mind that I'm leaving her without one last round of sex, I'm glad that she got what she needed and is sound asleep.
I squeeze her body tightly until I hear soft snores coming from her nose. She's finally in a deep sleep. I take a deep breath before taking my arms back and pushing away the covers on the bed. With a push of my body and a creak of the framework, I'm out of bed and my bare feet rest on the cold wood floor. I tiptoe toward my suitcase and pull out black leggings and a black t-shirt with my usual blonde wig and flats. I begin to wonder if the wig is absolutely necessary anymore, but I put it on anyway for safety precautions. Lastly, I tuck one of her guns into the waistband of my leggings again, I liked the feeling of holding one, and having one with me would provide the rush.
As I dress into my clothes, I notice Lizzy's stopped snoring, so I stop moving. I stare at her still body in bed, not daring to make a sound in fear of waking her up. She rolls in bed to face the opposite direction before her snoring continues and I resume dressing myself. I slip on my shoes, zip my suitcase shut and write a quick note to Lizzy, telling her how to keep in contact with me and how I'm sorry to let her go.
"Lizzy,
You've given me an amazing experience and it's one I'll never forget. I'm sorry I have to go so soon, if it weren't for family and friends, I'd stay here forever with you. I still want to stay in contact so if you want to talk, call me at my home phone number, or email me if you can. Please stay safe, I wish nothing but the best. X"
At the end of the letter I have my email and phone number listed, so she knows where to find me. I kiss it and leave a lipstick stain, before placing it on my bedside table, draped over a little alarm clock. Lizzy is still snoring, completely oblivious to my leaving. I only mean to glance at her, but I find myself staring at her unconscious body, replaying the last images I have of her over and over in my head. It takes all I have in me to walk toward my suitcase and roll it toward the bedroom door.
I take one last look at her; her black curls resting on her face and the nape of her neck, messily trailing behind her head, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, the way her lips plump every time she exhales. I stare at her lips, the same ones that greeted me with dozens of kisses and pleasured me with sex. The lips that curled into a smile that quickly became one of my favourites. I can't help but let my mind wander, realizing that smile will fade when she'll reach over to feel the warmth of my body in the morning and get nothing but cold air and bed sheets. She'll wake wanting to see me but will see a note instead, wanting to feel my lips but only getting a stain on a piece of paper.
I don't know what it is, the thought of her possible reaction in the morning or just simply watching her sleep that makes me crawl back into bed with her and pull the covers up to my nose. Whatever it was, it would only take a few hours for me to realize that I should have left when I had planned.
~~
should I start adding music to all my chapters?? I feel like it makes the story more interesting but idk I need input
