Find Her, Keep Her (CFTM Sequel)

Chapter 23 (Part 1)

*Note: Click the Youtube link above to listen to the Audiobook Version of this chapter voiced by kaelking12 (Kristen M.) featuring music by Tegan & Sara, The 1975, Parachute, and Peace.

Alex

When I imagined Elias and Indigo running off to indulge themselves in a psychedelic sexual escapade, I pictured their LA hideaway looking something like this.

Imagine:

A tiny San Fernando Valley office made of 100% organic bamboo, surrounded by a perfectly manicured Japanese garden. The whole scene is flaw free. No grass blade is left uncut and no Buddha statue is out of place. Everything is calm, peaceful, serene--except what's going on inside of course.

But, more on that later.

As you walk through the front door of said debauchery den, the air is thick with misty incense and the smell of sweat and insincerity. The wooden floor is mostly covered by hand-sewn pillows and hemp mats imported from around the world. You're briefly dazed by how beautiful everything is until you remember that you are not here to enjoy the scenery, but to return a wallet to someone in the middle of a Kama Sutra session.

You shake off the thought and force yourself to walk through a series of long, sheer drapes hanging from the ceiling to section off different parts of the room. For a moment, you contemplate why anyone would hang random drapes all over the place, but then you remember that in Indigo-land there are no such thing as doors, or privacy, or boundaries.

Everything is open to everyone.

Even things that shouldn't be.

(Sorry. Back to the imaginary tour.)

As you continue walking, a kind-eyed receptionist waits seated on the floor to welcome all new guests with freshly brewed glasses of potentially hallucinogenic tea.

You politely decline, say the secret password, and she directs you towards the back of the building where one of your nightmares is slowly becoming a reality.

After nearly backing down, you hold your breath and ready yourself to face the inevitable. You continue down the long candlelit hallway and eventually arrive at the final set of drapes separating you from the truth.

You hear it before you see it, the sound of your ex-boyfriend and your roommate grinding their way to nirvana.

You tell yourself that it's okay, that he's a single guy who can do what he wants, and that you don't mind because what he does isn't your business anymore.

And then you see it.

You see them.

Tangled together, staring into each other's eyes like they've finally found what they've been looking for.

And you shatter.

Imagine ended.

This ladies and gentlemen, is the kind of situation I assumed I'd be walking into this afternoon. But, that was ten minutes ago, when I was stranded on a bus with my overactive imagination.

Now that I'm actually standing outside of the very garden-less, beige cinderblock of an office building, my perception has slightly changed. My soul-crushing anxiety, however, has not.