Departure
A Halls of Pandemonium Day 28 Prompt Response.
“You get your charger?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said.
“The laptop one too?”
“Both.”
“Okay,” he said.
“You already asked me twice.”
“I know.”
“You nervous for me or something?” she asked.
“No,” he lied, as she zipped the suitcase closed.
“You taking the black hoodie?” he asked.
“It’s cold there.”
“It’s June.”
“It gets cold at night.”
“Right,” he said.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he lied again.
“You sure?”
“Are you?” He shrugged as she slid her passport into the front pocket of her bag.
“You packed a lot for three days,” he said.
She didn’t answer, so he continued. “You got your medication?”
“Yes.”
“You forgot it last time.”
“I remember.”
“You should text me when you land,” he said.
“Okay.”
“And call me when you get to the hotel.”
“Okay.”
“And don’t take those airport taxis. They charge too much.”
She laughed softly. “You say that every time.”
“Because every time you ignore me.”
“I don’t ignore you.”
“You kinda do.”
“I lived, didn’t I?”
“That’s not the point,” she said as she pulled the lamp cord from the wall.
“You’re taking that?” he asked.
“It’s mine.”
“No, I know,” he said quickly. “I just didn’t think about it.”
“You didn’t think about a lot of things.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I know.”
“You said this was a work trip.”
“It was easier that way.”
“For who,” he said as she folded the cord carefully around her hand.
“You already knew,” she said.
“I knew something.”
“You knew.”
“I thought we had more time.”
“That’s the part I feel worst about,” she admitted.
“What, leaving?”
“No,” she said. “Staying after I knew.”
He rubbed his face hard enough to redden it. “So what happens now?”
“I get in a cab.”
“I mean after that.”
“I don’t know.”
“You love me?”
“Yes,” she said immediately.
“Then why does this feel like somebody died?”
“We stopped talking months ago,” she said quietly, as she looked toward the door.
“We’re talking now.”
“Because I’m leaving.”
“That’s not fair either.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I don’t have a better answer.”
He laughed once, bitter and exhausted. “You remember when we used to miss each other after like four hours?”
“You called me from the grocery store once.”
“You cried because I bought the wrong pasta.”
“It was the bad kind.”
“It was pasta.”
“It falls apart.”
“There you are,” she said softly.
“Don’t,” he replied.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t sound like you’re gonna miss me tomorrow.”
“You should keep the record player,” she said.
“I bought it for you.”
“You use it more.”
“I won’t after this.”
“You’re really going,” he said.
“Yes.”
“For good?”
“Yes,” she replied, closing her eyes briefly.
“I kept thinking this was a fight,” he admitted, staring at the keys in her hand. “Like eventually we’d calm down and order food and watch something stupid.”
“I know.”
“But this whole time you were already leaving.”
“Yes,” she said, already walking towards the door.
“You’ll forget things here,” he said as he instinctively opened the door for her.
“Probably,” she replied.
“So what am I supposed to do with them?”
“Whatever you want.”
“That’s a terrible answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
“Text me when you land,” he said as she stepped into the hallway.
“Okay,” she said as she pressed the button to the elevator.
“And seriously, take an Uber from the airport, not a taxi,” he said as the elevator doors closed between them.
This is a response to day 28’s prompt for Bradley Ramsey’s “Halls of Pandemonium” writing event. Although I’m not participating in the scoring portion of the event (you know, since I, uh… wrote the backend for it), likes, comments and restacks will (maybe) help us achieve community goals and spread the word about the challenge.
Oh ,mate. Very nice use of the prompt. It works better, I think, with less. It hits harder somehow, the less you say.