Two.
Columbus was a crowded city, where tourists and residents were ridiculously easily distinguishable. The people that lived here efficiently weaved their way through the streets, while tourists and out-of-towners ran into just about everything and everyone. In the earlier part of our walk, I'd felt safe with JC, and even though I had no clue where I was going I didn't feel so lost. As we were getting closer to the centre of the city though, and as it was getting later, there were more people. Then, we made our way underground to the subway. To make it worse, there began to be a reasonable number of heavily intoxicated people, as New Year's Eve celebrations were only a few hours away. JC made his way through the people with an ease that was downright amazing, but I got caught. Suddenly it felt like I was moving backwards and sideways with all the people around me - I was moving anywhere but forwards, and quickly losing sight of JC.
I clung helplessly onto my duffle bag, inching my way forward. I stood up on my toes, desperately trying to catch sight of my new roommate, but failing miserably. A push, a shove, I was stumbling all over the place, getting cussed at left and right. Suddenly, I felt a hand wrap tight around my wrist and pull me along. My grateful eyes met JC's, who didn't let go of my hand from then on. He pulled me onto a train, where we stood cramped amongst the sober, tired and grumpy, and the not-so-sober, highly energetic people already enthralled by the night's festivities.
We didn't talk on the subway - not that there was much opportunity anyways. It was noisy and stuffy and I began to feel suffocated. This wasn't my scene. I grew up in a small town in Australia, about 150 kilometres southwest of Brisbane. "Crowded" over there meant there was like, ten people in your kitchen. "Stuffy" was your bedroom on a summer night when you forgot to close the blinds but leave the windows open for the day. "Suffocating" was when a big gust of wind threw a cloud of dust in your face. I thought the airport in Brisbane was as bad as it was going to get. Turns out, I was wrong.
I'd been wrong a lot these last few days. And these last few months actually. I was now at the point where I couldn't even believe or justify my own stupidity and blindness. This was the dumbest thing I'd ever done. I thought it was simple - I'd buy a one way ticket to Ohio, because this was what I thought Los Angeles or New York would be like (that, and there was only that one ticket...), and I knew I couldn't deal with that big a city. But now, I had no choice. I also should've thought this through more. I figured I had about a month before I'd either have to get a job or start living off my parents back home. And there was my next problem. A job tied me down too much, and I felt too bad mooching off my parents.
My mind wandered to earlier in the year. How easily I could've avoided this mess if I'd just opened my eyes to see what everyone else saw. If only I'd listened enough to realise everyone else saw it. If only I dealt better with loss and betrayal. I mean, sure, I wasn't curled up in bed eating ice cream, crying and feeling sorry for myself. But I'm really not sure buying a last-minute plane ticket and running off to America was a much better way of coping.
It was more dangerous, and created a lot more problems than I already had, that was for sure.
A tug on my arm brought me back to reality. It had been two stops, and we were getting off. Wow, I thought. I didn't realise it was possible to go through that sort of amount of thoughts in two train stops time. I shrugged off the pointless arguments and rambles in my own head and focused on not losing JC. No need to get completely lost too - I was in enough trouble as it was.
I needed to stop worrying. I needed to stop remembering. I needed to stop thinking. Because now wasn't the time to lose it. Now wasn't the time to break down, to be upset or to hurt. Now was the time to fight. I wouldn't shed a tear over any of this. Not a single one, I promised myself. And that was the end of that. I calmly kept walking, and my blank expression froze into place as we stepped out from the crowded underground railway, and up into the streets again.
We turned a few short corners, before JC pulled out a set of keys. He unlocked a green door with a golden 48 on it. We made our way up a flight of stairs, to another green door - labelled 'D'. We stepped into a hallway, put our coats on the two hangers on our left, and then JC flicked the lights on.
"You're kidding." I said, for the second time that night.
And again, no he wasn't. He really wasn't.
"No offence..." I tried to fill the silence and somehow get out of seeming like a bitch.
"Oh, none taken. None at all, babe."
"Don't call me that."
"I know this place is a dump, sweet."
"Don't call me that either."
"Hun, you need to get over this thing against name-calling you've got going."
"Not that either."
"Because you're gonna have to learn to live with it." He ignored me.
I shook my head. This was a joke. It really was.
The carpet was stained and one of the couches was missing a fair chunk of one of its legs. But that was the best part still. The walls looked like they'd been white at some stage or another, same with the kitchen benches. The curtains looked like they'd been wrapped around a chain smoker for the past eighty years, and the ceiling lamps had a sort of yellow tinge to them too.
"I'm going to be courageous and ask for the tour..."
"Sober? Ah well, you're mistake not mine, sweet pea."
"Stop - " I gave up. He wasn't going to stop.
He lead me to the other side of the one-room, open plan kitchen/dining/living room, down a tiny hallway.
"Bathroom's at the end."
I took a step, he grabbed my wrist.
"Not sober honey, seriously."
He opened the door to his left.
"My room."
A shoebox with a bed and a wardrobe for which I saw no necessity- because his clothes were all over the room anyways.
He stepped across, and opened the door to his right.
"Yours."
Even empty, it seemed cluttered, messy and dirty. There was a bed, but no sheets. A wardrobe, but the doors were missing. A window, but the blinds were so grotty that my urge to not touch them outweighed my urge to open them to let in some air and some light.
"And this place is $200 a week?" I asked in disbelief.
"Well, yeah. It's pretty much smack-dab in the middle of Columbus, and heating's pretty expensive here."
"Ah." I wasn't used to heating costs. Cooling costs, if any - but my parents never bothered with an air-conditioning system. Fans and a cold pool were enough, in their opinion.
I threw my bag on the bed, which made a suspicious squeaking sound, and JC disappeared. I looked around for a few moments, trying to gather myself. I was doing well - probably because the disaster that was all this hadn't quite sunk in yet. JC returned with clean sheets, which he threw on the bed next to my bag. He then went up to my bag, unzipped it, pulled out the one dress I'd taken and pegged it at me.
"Ready to start celebrating New Year's?"
"Here?"
"No, down the road with people and free booze and a nice apartment."
"I'm in."
I don't think I've ever gotten changed so fast in my whole life. Out was a good idea. Booze was an even better one.
