Page 145 of Almost Not Quite Engaged

“Sweet baby Jesus, I want that back but I don’t know if he does.”

“Where are you?”

“On a train to Hamburg and then jumping on another train to Prague for no other reason than he was there.” I hit the empty seat beside me.

“I think you’ll figure it out. Why didn’t you fly?”

“I think it might be about the journey, Mom. It makes the destination all the sweeter.”

“Your father said you were wise and I didn’t believe him.” I grin at her joke.

“I love you. Enjoy your train ride.”

“Enjoy your tango in Argentina. Love you too.” I hang up exhausted. After I change trains in Hamburg I can go to sleep. I’m exhausted from not sleeping last night but I have a compartment on the next train.

I download a photo card left over from Boston that should just be of the Common. I wince at the series of me sleeping and a really sexy selfie. I blow it up and look at him a little. I feel closer to him for a moment then slam my laptop. I open it back up and post in the blog he’s not reading.

I hate you again. Is that ok? I hate you for making me feel this much. I refuse to tell you where I am on account of you not telling me if you’re ok. I could be in danger. I’d contact me if you know what’s best for me.

I can barely keep my eyes open. I’m in some kind of depression/tired vortex where nothing makes sense. I trudge through the station and push through to my compartment. The door is open as I wait for them to collect my ticket. I have to pay a lot extra that I don’t understand, but I’m too fucking tired to argue. I shove Dad’s mad money at the man. Just after he slides the door shut, the silence takes me down. I speak aloud to break the stranglehold of my own tension.

“Okay, Kat! Do it. Just open the envelope.”

I pull the bedraggled goldenrod envelope from my camera bag. Staring out at the swiftly moving countryside. I turn the dusty packet over in my shaky hands. I know I have to read, but once again I put it back.

I wake in the middle of the night staring out into the darkness. My phone says I’ve slept only four hours. It was enough for now. I sit and every part of me is sore. From what, who the hell knows. Depression?

Fuck it. I’m going to read whatever this is, break my own heart and be done with it. Prague and then I don’t feel the need to go on from there. I’ll forge a new path and hide from the pain.

I rip it open and tiny sheets of paper fall out. Like fifty of them. I pick one up and it’s from those little notepads from hotels. This one is from some place in Thailand but the note is from India.

I think cats are too judgy. Let’s not get a cat. A dog I’d be down with.

I grin and sit on the floor with them surrounding me. Hotels from all over the world.

We should learn to make pierogies.

I think about you way too often. I’m falling for you hard and you won’t even blog to me. You tell me nothing real. I want to hear your laugh.

Ever think about why you like certain things about someone? It drives me mad thinking of the way you eat melon. Maybe it’s because it’s all I’ve got to go on right now. That and the constant stain on your clothing. Both are chef’s kiss. Don’t change a thing.

Your laugh is my favorite laugh.

I hope the money is enough to pay Liesel and Bill for the whole shoot. I can’t let them down.

This note stops me cold. He used the money for his staff and show not for him. He kept saying he needed it for that, but I assumed it was so he could pick fancy places to stay or upgrade to first class.

I clutch this to my chest curious why he didn’t tell me. Why he let me think there was a part of him that was greedy or selfish?

I say out loud, “Because he knew I wouldn’t believe him. I had to know him. Fall for him to believe he wasn’t his first impression.” None of us are.

I pick up another note. And then another.

I don’t think I want the thing I’ve been chasing. I think I want to do something that means more, helps people somehow. Tells their stories the way you do with your camera. I find myself writing more and I feel fulfilled when I do it but the only one I truly want to share it with, is you. Wanna share it? Wanna share anything?