Words no longer exist in my lizard brain, stealing my ability to reply without sounding like a bumbling idiot. I hurriedly grab my bag, quickly fleeing into the safety of the busy airport. Check-in is a blur, so is getting on the plane, so is the entire flight home. I don’t have any memory of the day until I’m standing in front of the all-too-familiar high-rise in downtown Atlanta.
None of the boys are at the clubhouse when I walk in. Even Claire is gone. The startling reality of being alone makes me feel sick enough to vomit. Dizzying nausea hits me with all the force of a Mack truck. Jesus. I can’t be alone now. Not if I want to stay sane.
Anyone up for margaritas?
Jackson
I’m in. Wacky Sunday?
Benji
I’m on a job
Eli
I’m in!
Benji
Wait there should be a rule against this
Eli
We will drink one in your honor
Benji
Whatever you bitches
Jackson
Excuse me?
Benji
Sorry sir
Eli
barf
The Cantina in an hour?
Jackson
Didn’t you just get back from the airport?
Yes
Eli: Damn that bad?
No, it was that good.
Jackson
We will be there in an hour!
Jackson always has my back. I wash quickly in the communal showers, brush a comb through my hair, and toss on a new set of clothes.
