M I L E 2
His name was Nolan Benton.
I'd chosen him for one reason, and it was because he didn't look like Isaiah. While Isaiah's hair was blonde, Roman curls near the top of his head, Nolan's hair was dark. Straight. Pushed back from his forehead in a careless way. Where Isaiah's eyes were a pale, pale blue, Nolan's were green. Deep. Framed by long, dark lashes. He was taller. Leaner. Perfect for a distraction.
Of course, I hadn't met him yet. I'd done all this decision-making over the phone, clicking through the profiles on Temptation's website while the woman on the other end talked me through it.
It'd been iffy at first; the escorts were supposed to be short term – at most, maybe a week or two. But I'd managed to make a deal, offering up the money I'd saved for the summer trip I'd been planning with Isaiah as necessary funds for the few months that I'd need him. It still wasn't quite enough, but I figured that once back home, I could problem solve with each day, perhaps even managing to come up with some sort of excuse that would send Nolan back to where he came from and leave me to manage on my own.
I blew out a long breath as I hung up the phone, a time and location for a meeting with Nolan scribbled on a slip of paper in my hand. There was still that nagging feeling in the back of my mind that this was all a bad idea – hell, even common sense told me that much – but I found that I couldn't bring myself to back out. I'd made up my mind on this. Even if it were a bad idea, I was going to go through with it anyway.
My mind drifted back to Isaiah as I stuck the note to my fridge. It couldn't be helped. He was everywhere. The pictures on my wall, the smell in my bed, the way the coffee mugs in my cupboards were always stacked on the wrong shelf. Everywhere I looked there was some part of him – some bit of my memory of him – here.
I wanted to tell myself that he'd come around. That maybe this was just a little bit of him getting cold feet and wanting out. That in a few days he'd change his mind. This wasn't true. It wasn't even possible. But my fingers hovered over the photos of us that'd been stuck to the fridge, and I found I couldn't take them down. I couldn't put the mugs back in their right spot. I couldn't remove the remaining bits of him from my life. Not when he was rapidly slipping through my fingers already.
It's only been a few hours, and he's already gone, I thought to myself dryly as I sat back down in front of my laptop, pulling up a blank document. I reached into my satchel for the notes I'd taken from my trip to Phapang. A few bracelets the kids had made me fell onto the table.
They were simple things, made of twisted and knotted white cord. The kids had told me that they'd last forever. So, picking them up, I slipped them over my wrist, sighing as they settled there, one right next to the other. Ironic, I realized, that after all this time, they were perhaps what would become most permanent in my life for awhile.
It was difficult for me to try and write my article, what with the shock of Isaiah's email still fresh in my mind. That, paired with the fact that I was stooping to the lowest of the low just to keep my fairly good image up amongst the family circle was enough to keep my brain from being able to function normally. The document I'd pulled up on my screen stayed blank for ages, staring back at me, it's emptiness almost mocking, until eventually, I closed it, shutting the lid of my laptop and rubbing my temples.
I wished I was back in Phapang, bonding with the children, free of any real responsibility, the problems of my own life far from my mind. God, I didn't even need to be in Phapang. I just needed to be somewhere other than here, living a life that wasn't mine.
