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One
Blair
Blair folded the last cardboard box in half and neatly stacked it in the corner of the living room in her tenth-story apartment. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It only took me a month to unpack all of my stuff.
She heard her phone vibrating from the kitchen counter. “Blair Emory,” she answered into the mouthpiece.
“Blair, get your ass into the station. There were two hit and runs today in the same neighborhood. DPD thinks it might be a serial case,” the anxious assignment editor barked on the other end.
Blair looked down at her running shorts and the tank top that was stuck to her from the sweat she broke unpacking the last few boxes. “Ray, it’s going to be at least an hour before I can make it in.”
“So, you want me to give this story to Leona? Fine. I’ll hand it over.”
“No. No. I can be there in thirty minutes. It’s just today is my day off and—” Blair looked down at her phone. Ray, her extremely bossy and always irritated editor, had hung up on her.
Great. So much for my workout and my call with Maggie. She peeled the tank top over her head and turned the shower on. She carefully stepped over the side of the tub and reached for the shampoo.
Ray wasn’t the only one at the station who barked orders. Ever since Blair had arrived in Dallas, it seemed like threats and insults were the only way people in the newsroom communicated with each other. A little professional competitiveness was important, she understood that, but she still hadn’t adjusted to the cutthroat environment she had walked into.
At least Maggie was loving her job in Charleston. She was made for public relations. If anyone could put a positive spin on a press release, it was Maggie. Blair dumped a handful of conditioner in her hand and lathered it into her hair.
They were planning a girls’ weekend in October. Maggie had suggested they meet in New Orleans for a little Bourbon Street getaway. Blair didn’t want to tell her yet that the producers were going to cut her vacation time. She was already at the bottom of the reporter barrel. If she took any time off, she would sink to the lowest level and give up any chance for an actual news story to Leona.
She picked up her razor and shook the shaving cream can in her hand before squeezing the foam along her leg. Her tan hadn’t completely faded, she thought as she ran the razor along her leg. A flash of Justyn’s thumb rubbing that spot along her calf flashed through her mind. Shit! A trickle of blood streamed down her leg. I don’t have time for this. She turned the water off and wrapped a towel around her leg, hoping the bleeding would stop.
She tried to tell herself that it was completely normal for Justyn to pop in her head from time to time. The bleeding along her calf stopped. What she knew wasn’t normal was that those flashbacks weren’t just every now and then. They were all the time.
She fastened the last button on her suit jacket and slid her heels into black sling-back pumps. In the elevator ride to the basement parking lot, she let out a steady breath. The flashbacks had to fade eventually. It was taking longer than she thought it would, but she knew if she put her mind to it, the loneliness of sleeping alone at night would subside. The gut reaction she felt every time she flipped past a baseball game on TV would fade. Just because her coworkers drank Bud Light didn’t mean she should think of him; everyone drank beer.
Blair pulled out her phone to call Maggie on her way to the station. She knew it was Tuesday, and Maggie said they couldn’t talk until after work, but she wanted to let her know she had been called in for an assignment. She flipped the Bluetooth switch on the steering wheel and waited for her best friend to answer the phone.
“Hey. I thought we were going to talk when I got off work?” Maggie sounded distracted, but sweet as ever.
“G, can you believe this shit? I have to go into work on my only day off,” Blair seethed as she pulled onto the interstate. Her high rise was one of the buildings along the downtown perimeter. It usually took at least twenty minutes to make it to the station.
“Oh, that sucks. I can talk for a few minutes. My boss just went to lunch.”
“Oh good. I kind of need to ask you something.” Blair was more nervous than she thought she should be.
“Of course. What’s going on? You ok?” Maggie asked.
They were there, right on the brim of her eyelids—heavy, salty tears. Hearing Maggie’s voice broke down the last resistance she had.
“I. Can’t. Talk. About. It.” Blair steered the car toward the nearest exit. Even in her emotional state, she knew she had to get off the interstate or she would be one of the serial wrecks that Ray told her about.
“Where are you? You sound terrible,” Maggie pressed.
Blair parked at the nearest gas station and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. Her eye makeup was completely ruined. “I just pulled over at a gas station. Oh my God, what’s wrong with me? I’m supposed to be headed in to cover a story.”
“Can you take a few deep breaths?” Maggie suggested.
Blair clutched the steering wheel. “Ok. I can talk again.” She had steadied her breathing.
“Can you tell me about it?”
“No matter what I do, it doesn’t matter what it is. I mean I try, and I don’t talk about it, and I don’t think about it and then—boom—it’s everywhere.”
Maggie sounded confused. “Girl, I am not following.”
Blair exhaled. “Justyn. It’s Justyn. He’s everywhere. And he’s not supposed to be. I’m in Texas, dammit. I’m as far away from the freakin’ water and his songs, cruises, and sparkly eyes as I can get. He should not be here in my head.” Blair’s chest tightened. “We had an agreement, right? Summer fling—that was it. No drama good-byes, no long distance crap—just a summer thing that ended the day I left the island.” The tears started again. “I mean, do you know how many white trucks there are
in Texas? They are everywhere!”
“Oh.” Maggie grew quiet. “You haven’t mentioned Justyn one time in the past month—not once. I don’t even know how you left things on your last day on the island.”
“Are you mad at me now? I should have told you, but I knew if I mentioned Justyn, then that would bring up Reid and I didn’t want to upset you.” Blair waited for Maggie’s response. “Why am I even talking about it now? See? He’s in my head. I’ve lost it.”
“Of course I’m not mad at you. I’m just surprised it took you this long to figure it out.” She giggled. “And I think you have this all wrong; he’s not just in your head.”
“G, this is not funny. I’m miserable.”
“I’m sorry. Oh, my boss is coming back. I have to go. Can we talk later? I’m going into a meeting, and then we have a press conference. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
“Right. Work. I understand.” Blair hated the reality of the responsibility in their lives. “But, you’re not mad?”
“No. To tell you the truth, I feel exactly the same way. I’m relieved you finally said something. Reid is on repeat in my brain. So, you, me, and a bottle of wine over the phone after my press conference, ok?”
Blair smiled. “Absolutely. Thanks, G. Bye.”
“No problem. Bye.”
