The Design(67)
“I will be back in a few weeks! What’s wrong? Are you sad that you don’t get to see Cowboy Derek?”
I sniffed and wiped the snot dripping from my nose like a faucet.
“No! God! I’m not crying because of Cowboy Derek!”
Cowboy Derek was a ranch hand who worked for Jason up in Montana.
“So then you’re this sad that I’m leaving for a few weeks?” she asked, clearly confused.
The waterworks kicked up another notch.
I could handle being away from Brooklyn for a few weeks, but she didn’t realize that it was actually the last time we’d see each other in who knows how long. I’d be in Paris by the time she arrived back in LA.
“I’m… I’m…” I couldn’t get a word out without crumbling into a blubbering mess once again.
Jason exchanged a wary glance with Brooklyn, one that hinted at the fact that they both thought I was going a little insane. I had to pull my shit together. I was a twenty-three year old adult woman. Lion hear me roar, right? I took a deep breath, wiped my eyes, and nodded.
“Okay. You can go. I’ll be okay,” I said, feeling very confident and wise.
Brooklyn smiled, her twinkling blue eyes meeting mine. “Okay, well I need you to let go of my suitcase then.”
I glanced down. My hands were still clutching her suitcase for dear life. Whoops.
“Oh. Yeah, right.”
I reluctantly loosened my grip on the bag and she pulled it to her side.
“And I need my wallet,” she said, holding her palm out flat.
“Your what?” I pointed to Brooklyn and met Jason’s gaze with one of those “get a load of this girl” glances.
“Cammie…”
“Fine!”
I pulled her dumb designer wallet out of my back pocket and gave it to her.
Jason shook his head and glanced down at his watch. I knew I was making them late, but they were flying privately and besides, I didn’t care. I’d miss them so much that even this exchange, while embarrassing, was better than letting them go.
“Do you have anything else?” Brooklyn asked.
I thought about lying and telling her no, but the inevitable would happen anyway. Jason and Brooklyn were leaving and stuffing my pockets full of their crap wouldn’t make them stay. Although, it seemed to always work in the movies, so maybe I was doing it wrong.
With a sigh, I unloaded Jason’s cell phone from my back pocket, Brooklyn’s laptop charger from my purse, her I.D. from my bra, and then I pointed to Jason’s luggage.
“There’s a toy gun in your front pocket,” I admitted sheepishly.
“Cammie!” they both exclaimed like scolding parents. Yeah, whatever. I’d rather have Jason detained than have them fly across the country to Montana.
“I’m sorry!”
Jason unzipped his front pocket and a little blue water gun rolled out.
He laughed. “You even filled it up.”
I shrugged. “I didn't want the tabloids reporting that Jason Monroe is shooting blanks.”
He walked toward me and wrapped me up in a bear hug. I gripped his shirt and closed my eyes. In the past few weeks Jason had become a big brother to me. He put up with my shenanigans and treated my sister like a princess. I couldn’t have asked for a better man for her.
“I’ll take care of your sister and you can always come visit us in a few weeks,” he whispered to me before stepping back and placing the toy gun in my hand.
“Later, J-money,” I said with a sad smile.
“Adios, C-stacks.”
That only left my sister. I knew she could tell something was off. She stood a few feet away from me, frowning and trying to read between the lines. We’d done this same goodbye not two months earlier and I hadn’t shed a single tear. I’m sure I was adding undue guilt onto her conscience with my waterworks. She needed to work on her music and I needed to stand on my own two feet. This was not that big of a deal. I smiled and held my arms open like a mom greeting her child after school.
“Get over here, you monster,” I said with as much jokiness as I could muster.
She smiled and bent down to give me hug.
“I love you so much, my little pop star princess,” I said.
She laughed against my shoulder and squeezed me even tighter.
“I love you too.”
We hugged until I thought I was going to breakdown again, and then I stepped back and held her at arm’s length. She told me she’d call me as soon as she landed and then I watched her and Jason walk into the private airport together. I stayed where I was until their plane took off thirty minutes later. Then, instead of calling a cab, I started to walk back to my apartment. I had no clue how long the walk would take; maybe I’d call a cab when my feet got tired, but it felt cathartic to walk through the city. It gave me a sense of purpose that I would lose the moment I got back to my apartment and realized that Brooklyn was really gone and I was one step closer to my own departure.