Sean kept shaking Jim until his eyes tried to flutter open.“Get the fuck up, dude. We’re leaving in thirty,” grunted Sean, moving away from the bed.Jim scowled and shielded them from the sunlight that filled the suite. “Fuck!” he growled, grabbing his head to keep it from falling off of his neck. “We’ll be downstairs as soon as she’s ready.”Sean was going all over the room, picking up Jim’s things and throwing them into his open suitcases. He heard his brother and turned to him, frowning. Jim was fighting a fair fight to sit up, squinting around in a first attempt to cope with his hangover.“She who?” asked Sean.Jim glared up at him, a hand still pressing his temple. “Fuck you.”“You mean Silvia? She took off an hour ago.”“What?”He managed to grab his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and searched for a number
“If that son of a thousand bitches ever sets foot south of the Caribbean Sea again, I’m gonna fucking kill the motherfucker!”Claudia’s glance was enough to cut Miyen’s deadly promises off. He looked away, snorting, his arms locked around Silvia. She’d tried
“Thought it was u. I’m so fkn sorry.”Before Silvia could answer the text, Miyen snatched the phone from her hand and traded it for a mate. She didn’t complain. She knew her friend was right. Enough already. Time to put an end to it and let go.Like it was just so easy.They were in her room in Caseros, laying back on the bed side by side, watching a movie on her tablet. She smoked and drank mate. Her eyes were still swollen but dry. The shower and the meal had helped her to clear her mind. She felt drained, and it was that exhaustion what kept her wide awake. So she remained there, quiet and still, curling up against her friend’s side.“Told you he thought it was me,” she said out of the blue.“Oh, that changes everything, right? Turns out he’s not a fucking son of a bitch but a fucking asshole. Glad to know.”Miyen’s rant pushed a weary chuckle out
It was eleven in Santiago when midnight cruised across Buenos Aires to the west.Alone in his hotel room, wearing only his jeans, Jim was sitting on the rug with his back against the side of the bed, a beer and a joint at hand, his phone near his bare feet. He tried some random chords on the Fender Silvia had given him the year before, his eyes lost on the night skyline outside his window.She hadn’t replied to his last text.He knew she wouldn’t. He didn’t expect her to. He’d just wanted her to know. That was it.His fingers moved over the strings, his voice joined them in a whisper just out of habit. Until he realized which song he was playing. He stopped, breathing deep.That was the exact moment when he knew she wasn’t there anymore.Not that he’d lost her. She wasn’t gone. This was different. He could feel it in his guts. She would never reply to his last text, or any other, because she&rs
Miyen and the Commodore escorted Silvia and Claudia almost to their plane seats on Tuesday noon, and only four hours later, they were at the Black Rock, having mate. Silvia was still pale and quiet, but insisted she was okay, and Claudia noticed she hardly checked her phone, as if she didn’t expect Jim to try to reach her, and didn’t want to contact him either.And she didn’t want to. She didn’t need to.Paola arrived an hour later, to let Claudia go to her house before her dog chewed the whole cottage down to splinters. Silvia’s own dog, that used to roam the streets and showed up only to eat, came with Paola and didn’t leave to walk Claudia home as he used to.“I’m gonna get rid of you lot and be alone sooner or later,” Silvia said, a little amused. “What d’you think it’s gonna happen then?”“You’re gonna text him,” Claudia and Paola replied right aw
“Jim?”Sean knocked again. He’d better be ready, because the lobby was full of reporters. It was Wednesday, their second day in Chile, in between their two concerts in Santiago, and Deborah had decided to spend it on interviews. That way, they would have the whole Friday to rest before the long flight back to LA on Saturday.“Jimbo!” he called, a little louder.He could hear music from inside, but he couldn’t tell what it was. He knocked for the fourth time, already fishing in his pockets for his room card. He heard quick footsteps coming and Jim opened the door, half his face covered in shaving cream.“Dude! I’m fucking shaving! What’s up?”He let his brother in and headed back to the bathroom. Sean paid attention to the music. What on God’s green earth was Jim listening? He found the answer when he approached the laptop open in the middle of the bed. It was something Silvia had sen
The interviews kept them busy until dinner, and all of them voted to go out later, for a little taste of the Santiago night. Instead of hanging out with the others at the bar until they left, Jim went back to his room. Deborah turned to Sean the moment Jim walked into an elevator, but Sean just shook his head.Yeah, his brother had honored all the commitments she’d scheduled for the day, but he was oddly absentminded, and Sean wasn’t about to explain to Deborah what was in Jim’s mind, keeping him distracted.His little brother had gotten the memo, directing him straight to a tall, sturdy brick wall. Now that he’d found it, Sean knew he would have to watch Jim slam his head against it, time and time again, until the pain and the bruises convinced him it was harder and more real than his own perspective of the situation. Then Jim would most likely break down, and Sean would have to be ready to hold him up.Upstairs, Jim dropped himself on t
Going back to work, eating, sleeping, gaming a while with her brother after dinner, drinking gallons of mate, walking with his dog to the bus stop, watching the clouds roll over the lake out the bus window, listening to her chick-hits playlist. Routine was a safe haven that welcomed her back. So that Wednesday midnight, when she got the Hey, Jay! notification, it was somehow just another part of her routine. And she felt strong enough to check it out.She brought mate and cigarettes to her room, played Sarah McLachlan’s Full of Grace and sat in the middle of her bed with the tablet.She felt relieved to see Jim hadn’t written anything. He’d only posted four photographs, and the lump up her throat didn’t come as a surprise when she saw them. Four pictures, one for each day they’d spent together. A smile found its way to her lips, reading the titles he’d chosen for them.He’d called the