Intent(6)
“Laynie, baby.”
A voice calls out to me tentatively as I turn away from the security desk, and it makes me stop dead in my tracks. A slow-motion movie effect seems to have been utilized for this scene as I turn to face the owner of the voice. My eyes innately narrow with intense anger, disgust, and the sharp pain shooting through my chest.
Bobby.
When my brain registers he used the affectionate nickname he always called me, a hard layer of ice forms around my heart, cooling the fire inside that had threatened to consume me just a moment ago. My quickened pulse slows, the breath that seized in my chest resumes normally, and only the extreme disgust remains.
“Are you going somewhere?” His eyes dart back to the security guard. He was obviously eavesdropping on our conversation.
My eyes rake over his abnormally unkempt appearance. The Bobby I’ve known for seven years would never be seen in public with his hair a mess, his clothes disheveled, and an apparent lack of overall hygiene. The scruff on his face is uneven and scraggly. His clothes are wrinkled and the dark circles under his eyes are telltale signs that he hasn’t had much sleep in the last however many days.
From my peripheral vision, I see the security guard straighten his back and square his shoulders, ready to intercede as soon as I give the word. After the day I’ve already had, I just don’t have it in me to go another round with Bobby. Tomorrow, he’ll be literally one thousand miles behind me. For the first time in weeks, I feel the need to put the same distance between us figuratively. My walls are now securely erected around my heart.
I cut my gaze over to the security guard. “Mr. Shaw no longer has any business in my apartment. Can you also see to it that my locks are changed?”
He immediately understands the underlying message. “Yes, ma’am.”
He’s rounding the desk, walking toward Bobby to escort him from the building, as I wordlessly continue on to the elevator. Bobby’s pleas for just five minutes of my time fall on deaf ears. He had the past seven years to say everything he needed to say. Five extra minutes of talking to me today won’t change a thing.
“It’s time to open you and drain you dry.” I pull out the bottle of wine I’ve been saving for a special occasion and immediately open it as soon as I step inside my apartment. I haven’t had a drop to drink since I’ve been trying to get pregnant—just in case. Since that’s not happening anytime soon, there’s no reason why I should deny myself the pleasure of the sweet nectar of the grape gods any longer.
Three extra-large glasses of wine later, I’m pouring the last little bit of liquid left in the bottle and I have absolutely no idea what I’ve stuffed into my suitcases. With the music blasting loudly, I essentially clean out my entire closet and drawers into every piece of luggage I own. As it turns out, a whole bottle of wine on an empty stomach makes me numb to all my problems. Or to caring about what clothes I picked to take on a journey that’ll last over the next several months.
The blaring noise of my alarm clock wakes me, and I’m temporarily disoriented. I’m in my bed, fully clothed from last night, and my bedroom is in shambles. So much for my efficient packing skills. After seeing the condition of my dresser drawers, I’m afraid to even look inside my suitcases. Since I can’t stand to leave my bedroom in this condition, I rush to clean up the mess I made before the driver arrives to take me to the corporate jet.
“I’ll just buy whatever else I need there. It’s almost summer weather in the South. Shorts, T-shirts, and flip-flops are all I really need anyway,” I reason aloud as I climb into the shower. The hot water begins to wash away the fogginess the bottle of wine left behind.
Security calls just as I finish everything I need to do before I leave, and within minutes, the driver is waiting in the hall to take my luggage down to the car. Before I close the door to my apartment, I stop and take one last, lingering look around. Sadness suddenly engulfs me as I walk away from the only life I’ve known for the last many years. As painful as it’s been the past few weeks, I finally feel like the closing of my apartment door behind me is symbolic of how my former life is ending, and a new one is beginning.
“I hope that’s true,” I murmur to myself. “Please let it be true.”
The flight attendant greets me as I board the corporate jet and take a seat in the plush cabin. She quickly brings coffee and orange juice while we wait to taxi to the runway. Once we’re at cruising altitude, she brings a hot breakfast and a bowl of fresh fruit, but there’s no way I can eat it. It’s all I can do to keep the coffee and juice down. Some people can’t stop eating when they’re stressed or upset, but I can’t eat at all when my stomach churns and balls up into a knot. I lean my seat back and close my eyes. When I open them three hours later, we’re preparing to land in Georgia.
Excitement and nervousness compete for the primary emotion that controls me as the plane touches down on the private airstrip. On shaky legs, I stand to exit the plane and am surprised by the stifling heat that envelops me when I step outside. The sun is bright, the flowers are in full bloom, and all I can see for miles is abundant green. Evergreen trees cover the mountains, and lush grass fields surround us on all sides.
“Your car is right over here,” the man transporting my luggage indicates. I follow him to find Marcia has rented a four-door soft-top Jeep Wrangler.
Chuckling to myself, I remark. “She knows me way too well.”