Open your eyes, Darcy.
I do, and Elizabeth snuggles deeper into me, bringing her hand to my chest, over my aggressively beating heart.
“It’s okay. I’m right here, Peter,” she mumbles, dropping a kiss on my arm.
She’s not awake. I know she’s not, because her breathing remains deep and she begins the soft, adorable snore that only seems to make itself known when she’s in a deep sleep.
Her touch and the sound, which might as well be white noise with how it soothes me, pull me under into a restful slumber of my own.
“Hey, sleepy head. I think it’s time for you to get up.” Beth’s voice is distant, like in a dream. “Come on,” she implores. “I won’t have time to suck you off before we go.”
My eyes fly open at that, because if this were a dream, her mouth would already be on my cock. I look around and find her fully clothed, which makes me pout. Okay, so she’s not exactly fully clothed, but she’s wearing my T-shirt, and it covers a large part of her body where she’s sitting on the bed next to me.
“No Groundhog Day today, I’m afraid.” She smiles through the sentence, brushing the hair off my forehead, but there’s a sadness in her eyes I haven’t seen in our entire two and a half days together.
“Fucking sucks,” I admit.
She nods, moving quickly to stand and taking my hands in hers to pull me up. “Come on. I’ve gotta check out soon, and we’re already behind.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” I throw my legs over the side of the bed and pull her into me, causing her to giggle when her ass lands on my lap.
“You looked like you needed the rest.” She bites her lower lip, and it’s another glimpse of her vulnerability shining through. “And, well, you looked so cute with your lips parted, all peaceful…” She pauses, and the crinkles in the corners of her eyes tell me she’s about to give me shit for something. “And the drool dripping down your cheek, soaking the pill?—”
She shrieks as I tickle her sides and tackle her onto the bed, laughing loudly, in that way I’ve come to need hearing as much as I need to breathe. “Take it back,” I demand, playfully, but she shakes her head, giggling too hard to form words. I go harder, and she squeals beneath me, forcing a laugh out of me, too.
“Okay!” she screams, and I let up, but only a little. “Okay, fine,“ she pants. “I lied. You don’t drool.” I stop tickling her but keep her pinned underneath me, where I want to keep her for—no way. Not going there. “You look weirdly perfect when you sleep. There. The truth.”
I give her one last tickle, earning me another high-pitched noise. “That’ll teach you to lie to me.”
“I’ve never lied to you,” she says, still giggling. But her words stop us short as the sincerity of the moment comes back to us both.
“I didn’t lie to you, either. Not about anything.” I swallow the lump in my throat and loosen my hold on her, giving her an out if she wants it, but she stays where she is. We didn’t share occupations, last names, or phone numbers. But we did share small pieces of our lives we might only share after knowing each other for months or years, not a mere couple of days.
“I know,” she whispers, and we gaze at one another for several breaths, just existing together. “Peter… we have to go. It’s time for me to head down home.” Her voice is so small, I almost can’t make out the words. I wish I hadn’t been able to, because then they wouldn’t be slicing through me so painfully.
We move silently through her room—her gathering up her things, me brushing my teeth and getting dressed. Twenty minutes later, I’m ready, and we’re standing at the door, her slightly calloused hands in my smooth ones. I wonder what she does to earn those. I wonder how many stories those hands could tell. I’d listen to them all, if only she’d let me.
I want to ask for her full name. I want to take her phone and put my number in it. I want to beg her to give me any piece of herself that might mean this doesn’t end here and now, on an annoyingly sunny morning in a hotel room I wish I never had to leave.
But I don’t do any of it because I know it’s not what she wants.
Instead, I kiss her, taste her one last time, let my hands roam over her body so I can be sure to memorize every dip, every curve, every scar, and every freckle.
“Bye, Beth,” I whisper against her lips, closing my eyes as I wait for her to say her own goodbye. She doesn’t. I leave with a weight so heavy in my chest, it’s as if my ribs might crack wide open. Knowing I’m going to see my best friend tomorrow helps.
I take the scenic route, avoiding the highway to get to Balsam Bay. It’s a beautiful drive, but I don’t enjoy any of it.
Once I’m there, I focus on going to see my cottage and then trying to talk some sense into Leo as he navigates falling in love. I don’t tell him about my weekend. I don’t tell him why I took a week off work. I don’t tell him about the medication I’ve been prescribed.
After two days of wallowing in silence, while my best friend does the same, it’s time to go home.
The weight only gets heavier the closer I get to Toronto. To my real life. To my job. To my overpriced condo. To the hustle of the city and the familiar sounds of sirens and horns.
When I walk into my living room and my eyes land on my laptop, still open on the coffee table, the panic sets in, and this time, there’s nothing to keep it at bay.
There are no calming touches or sweet words to pull me out of the black hole I’m spiralling into.
I fall to my knees, heaving, trying but not capable of filling my lungs.
