Timidly

17 | not that girl

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FLICKER, FLICKER, FLICKER.

My camera presses against my chest, heavy on my heart. The strap is wrapped around both my wrists, like handcuffs. The taxi scraps the curb, wheels screeching, engine humming loudly. Manny and the driver exchange pleasantries, and begin hurdling suitcase after suitcase into the boot of the ugly, painted cab. I want to help, but I cannot. My feet are planted into the sidewalk. It's as if concrete has been poured up to my ankles, and if I try to move, I'll collapse. I'll collapse again. Costello is gone. He's left to return to his sister, his friends, his little, crumbling apartment that smells of moss. In a moment, I'll be gone to; boarding an aircraft that will take me back to New York City. I have Costello's details so we can email back and forth, but we both know it won't be the same. The minute I'm up in the sky, looking down at the ocean, eye level with the clouds, we will be over.

"Miss?"

The taxi driver appears by my side, moustache twitching and all. The man has wrinkles around his eyes, and lines tugging at the corners of his lips. His arms are covered in marks, and bruises; an assortment of colours mixing into his dark skin. He has this sort of vibe about him, that he's a warrior in disguise.

"Hugo" He introduces himself. His fingers are short and stubby, almost as if they've been squished by a heavy weight.

"Donna-" I slide my hand into his outstretched one. "-I'll only be a minute"

Hugo tips his head in understanding and limps back to the taxi, running fuel.

Gladwell Inn has many murals painted onto the side of the building. Some are tacky, and smudged, while one in particular catches my eye. Under the artwork is the signature of the artist, and a caption.

'Faceless people drown in themselves'

A girl painted in black-and-white stands on a mountain peak, her hair braided. Everything is there -the grey mountain, tall and sharp, the neatly shaded birds, the river shining like a crystal.

Except her face.

The message to the painting is faintly like me before this trip; a girl surrounded by everything complete, while she's still finding herself, still blank and unfinished.

But as I snap a saturated shot of the mural and scramble into the backseat of the taxi, next to a dosing Manny, I realise...

That girl is not me.

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Costello P.O.V

I HOLD THE envelopes close to my chest, feeling the thick paper. They feel so heavy; maybe it's the words written inside. Maybe they are heavy. Nina bends over, her burgundy uniform wrinkled, and pours me a cup of joe. The brown steaming liquid fills to the brim. "Whatcha go there?" She asks, ruffling up her hair with her fingers. Little flecks of white dance through the air, landing on her shoulders.

I tuck the envelopes under my arm and stand. Nina looks up at me, curious.

"I'll explain in a minute. Send out a text to the group; tell them to come here now"

Light streams through the windows of Hopeless Beans, the table tops glowing, the chairs peeling of their paint. It's not even half an hour since I left Donna at the entrance of the hotel, saying a bittersweet goodbye. She'll be on her way to the airport, possibly having some brunch in the food court. I can't hold off any longer.

I have to give them their letters.

Nina gives me a weird look, squinting her eyes as if trying to understand. "Costello, I'm on the clock; how about later?"

I contemplate waiting until Donna is back in New York, until I'm sure she's in a completely different time zone. Then I won't feel so bad about handing them out. She's asked me to wait, to wait until we're a sure distance apart from one another.

But I really can't do that.

"Then take your break. Nina, this is important-" I pause, trying to word the situation in my head. "-It's about Donna"

I blink, and Nina is gone, having scurried away to hang up her apron. She appears back moments later, tapping away at her phone. It's a sure sign that I'm not the only one who cares about Donna.

"Okay, fine. But only because it's about her. Is everything okay? You didn't ruin your chances with Donna? Scare her away by bringing up Dorian or-" Nina stops, her fingers looming over the screen, illuminating her pale face, makeup free.

"-she's gone, isn't she?"

I've never heard Nina's voice so quiet, so weak. It sounds like that of a mouse, the words a tiny squeak. I just stare.

How can I answer this? I haven't thought this conversation through. Damn it.

"She is-" I find myself answering. "-and she wanted me to distribute these letters. But everyone must be present for this"

Nina gulps, her body tensing. My sister is always the happy, optimistic type; but when something bad happens to her personally, or anyone she's close with, a dark cloud will loom over her head for many days.It happened when mom and dad died. Even with Dorian. But this, Nina losing her new best friend, my first love, is different. Donna may not be dead, she may be only a phone call away, but it's obvious this will have an effect like no other.

Nina tucks her phone in the back pocket of her denim jeans. "They're coming"

We stand in silence, knowing all we can do is wait for everyone else to arrive.

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