Enough {h.s}

"kiss me and tell me you can be my friend"

This time I'm the one to reach out and give Lou a warm goodbye hug.

"So he's back to LA then?"

"Actually, no." She tells me. "He's in Dunkirk. Tomorrow's the first day of filming."

It hadn't occurred to me that he would have to devote so much time coming up for his film. It also didn't occur to me that after this, I couldn't see him even if I wanted to. And I did, terribly.

"Right.. Well I guess that's it then."

She gives me a sympathetic smile. "Only if you want it to be."

After blowing a kiss and sliding inside of her Uber, she makes her way to the airport with a few of Harry's things that he'd left behind in a hurry to leave. And as for me, I make my way towards the nearest coffee shop and sit in the booth in the back. I type a few text messages only to erase them. I order tea this time, because somehow coffee didn't sit as right with me as it used to. And I stare out onto the streets of New York and wonder if this city was really all it'a cracked up to be if you didn't have anyone to enjoy it with.

**

A month passes; Slowly, meaninglessly. I had this new idea in my head of what life could feel like when spent with someone else and I couldn't keep it from intervening in everything I did. Anytime I'd pick up a journal or start a new document, in desperate attempt to start another novel that I'll probably never finish, he was always embedded in one of the characters; his sense of humor, is husky laugh-the one where you could hear his accent even though he hadn't said a single word.

There was a portion of every paycheck I'd received since he left that I hadn't touched, my conscious arguing about whether or not buying a plane ticket to Jamaica would be worth it. If any of it even mattered at all anymore. Most of all, if he'd want me there with him.

Lou and I had exchanged numbers the afternoon we met. Being too cowardly to reach out to Harry himself after so much time had passed, I'd asked her what he'd been up to. 

"Jamaica. He's alone, for the most part. Writing I think. He could use some inspiration, you know.."

She later sent me his address, an added "If I wind up missing, you know why.." causing me to smile.

Her words tossed and turned in my head for a few days before I truly considered it. Before I'd realized what I was doing, I was saving up money to go. I know that the Harry I met before I treated him so poorly would fly me out in a heartbeat, no added charges. But this is the Harry I'd left hanging, sitting alone in a hotel room, and haven't spoken to sense.

It's a Friday when I throw a few outfits into a duffle bag, a bathing suit, a roll of cash that probably wasn't more than fifty, and a couple essential toiletries. I didn't bother putting on makeup, and I didn't bother flattening my unruly curls. I had dark circles and I'd lost a few pounds and what I really needed was a good nights rest.

The flight is quicker than I expect. There's a few intermediate stops, and I order a few glasses of wine that I eventually follow up with a cup of coffee. I have absolutely no idea where I'm at when I make it into the airport, grabbing a handful of maps and bus routes and shoving them into my pockets in a crumpled mess. I attempt to ask a couple for some guidance, but when they open their mouths, all smiles and white teeth, I can't understand a single word.

Of course, I think. Not English.

Eventually I figure it out. A bus ride here, a bus ride over there, and an achingly slow boat ride onto a corner island that held residence to a three story penthouse; white, modern, and full of windows. I wonder whether or not I'll have to pass through some sort of security as I near a long boat ramp, something that looked like it belonged in The Jungle Book; ropes and light browns swaying above crystal clear water.