Lost Flyght – Chapter 9

Jin’s glare is withering. “I can’t believe you did that. This isn’t going to work out.”

No. No, you can’t mean that. I’m sorry. I fucked up.

“I guess I have to go back to Cressida. It’s not what either of us wanted, but it is what it is.”

No. You don’t have to do that. I beg. I plead. I’m sorry. So sorry. I can change. I am changing. I promise. I’ll stop doing this and things will be better.

Gus’s arms wrap around me and hold me from flinging myself at Jin’s retreating back.

Please don’t go. I hate Tomu for what he did to me. He keeps screwing me over! Don’t you see? I hate myself more and more every day! For all the doubts. For all the worrying.

Don’t go!

Please don’t leave me!

I sink into the dark, the sadness so heavy in my chest. This is true pain, an injury I can’t fix, a wound that cannot heal. And it pulls on me so hard, there’s no coming back from it.

I wake in the gigantic bed and groan at the light. It’s still early, and out the balcony window, the sun is low on the horizon. Sadness weighs me down like a million tons. Where is Jinzo?

I roll over away from the sunlight and wince at my head. Whatever Gus gave me was worse than a bottle of tequila. I never used to have such violent reactions to meds, and now, ever since I took the prescient dream berries, everything feels like poison, even food. My head pounds, and my mouth is like cotton. And of course, I’ve soaked the bed. It seems I never wake up without having sweat through the sheets during the night.

Slitting my eyes open, I check the bedside clock, and it’s 7:45 local time. Yep, I slept through dinner. Dammit. Despite Gus’s plea for me to save myself, I wanted to make an appearance and at least show appreciation for the food and apologize to Asteria.

Instead, I slept straight through the night, and I’m not even waking up rested or happy. Just sad as I sift through the memories of my nightmares. I guess I’m afraid of losing Jinzo, probably because I just told him I love him. I suppose he could go back to Cressida if he really wanted to, but he’s told me a million times he does not. And he’s not the lying type. I have to believe he’s being truthful. And I also have to believe I wouldn’t do anything stupid enough to push him away.

I peel the wet sheets off my legs and slip from the bed. The room spins once, and I steady myself against the dresser drawers. I need a cup of coffee and some food. Then once I’m a little less hungover from the pills, I’ll consider a shower and the beach. I stumble to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, pull my hair into a ponytail, and pee. Even the toilets in this place are fancy, and I sit for at least five minutes, yawning and staring into space.

Going down the stairs is difficult. I take them one stair at a time, and I hold onto the railing for dear life. I breathe a sigh of relief that the kitchen is empty of people, but full of breakfast foods and steaming coffee. I pour myself a giant cup and add a heaping spoonful of sugar, which I seldom do, but I need the extra glucose to cut this headache. Adding a slice of homemade bread to a plate of fruit, I decide that’s enough to get me started. With my coffee in one hand and the plate in the other, I make my way to the screened-in porch at the back of the house only to find Asteria there, drinking coffee and reading from a datapad.

“Oh, sorry,” I say, dipping my head. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll sit in the kitchen.”

“No! Don’t!” She pops up from her chair and comes straight to me to take my plate. “Let me take that, and you should sit right here.” She pulls out a chair at the table opposite her own chair and sets my plate at the spot.

I’m immediately suspicious of her kindness. Yesterday, she was not happy with me at all.

Well, I suppose I won’t get out of sitting with her. But the breeze here is lovely, and the fans spin overhead, bringing in more delicious air to this spot. I shouldn’t refuse.

I sit in the chair and sip some coffee, sighing and squinting across the table at Asteria.

“Sorry,” I say, again. “I have a massive headache. I hope it’s gone soon so I can enjoy the day.” I pick at the bread and chew on small pieces. “Just talking hurts.”

“You had a rough night. You should definitely take it easy.”

I freeze. Wait…

“I’m sorry for giving you grief yesterday. I think perhaps I was a little too tough on you. I know Mom would’ve been a lot more patient. I’m afraid I ran out of patience a few years ago with the kids and all. I should be better about that.”

My instincts to flee are revving up.

“What do you mean, I had a rough night?”

“I…” She presses her fingers to her lips, and her cheeks color pink. “I’m embarrassed to say that I witnessed your nightmares. I’m so sorry. I know it’s a private thing. You were too loud to ignore, though.”

I stand up from the table. This is not happening. No. Not happening!

“Wait, wait! I promise I wasn’t prying. I’m so sorry. Gus did his best to soothe you and keep you quiet, but… you were delirious, and you couldn’t wake up and shake it. You don’t have to worry about Jin going back to Cressida. He hates her now, and he obviously loves you.”

Nope. Time to get out of here.

I wonder how quickly I can pack and leave. I didn’t take much out of my bags.

“I need to go now.” I turn to escape.

“Where are you going?”

“Someplace far away. Maybe Ossun.”

“What?” Asteria’s voice hits a high note.

But I stop at the door, realizing I need to do damage control. Just think if Cressida got a hold of this information. I thought last night I had nothing to lose by taking those pills and getting some rest, but it turns out I have everything to lose.

“Please, please don’t tell anyone.” My voice cracks as pain rips through my head.

“Does Jin know? About the nightmares?”

I nod.

“Then there’s no one to tell. Don’t worry about it.” She stands up from the table and comes to take my hand. “Don’t leave. I’m sorry I said anything.”

I nod, though my spirit is weary. I don’t want to alienate Asteria when it’s obvious she and Jinzo are so close. I sniff up and wipe at my teary eyes.

Be grateful, Vivian.

I pull on Business Vivian like a favorite sweater. It does nothing for the pain, but her presence straightens my shoulders and dries my headache-induced tears. She is stronger than regular me, and strength is what I need today.

“Thank you for inviting my guests and me here. I’m sorry for all the stupid things I said yesterday.”

Her returning smile is warm and relieved. “It’s nothing, Vivian. I’m so glad you’re here, and I’m heartbroken about having to leave later. Please stay and have breakfast with me.”

“I’m going to get some pain killers, and then I’ll come back to finish.”

“I think there are some in the kitchen drawers,” she says, resuming her seat, “if you don’t want to wake Gus.”

I rummage around in the kitchen drawers for five minutes before I give up. If there were pain killers, they’re gone now. Gus is my only hope. My headache is pounding, the equivalent of ten drums beating away in my skull.

As I make my way back to the second floor, though, I pass the laundry room, and Gus is in there with a bundle of sheets in his hand.

“Hey,” I say, leaning against the door.

He looks up from the washing machine instructions and smiles.

“Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?”

“Like death at the beach with a gigantic headache.”

He pauses for a second. “That’s an interesting visual you just conjured up.”

“I’d smile, but it hurts to smile. Are those my sheets?”

“They are,” he says, his voice sad. “I figured you wouldn’t want the staff to see them.”

I remember how I worried about that while staying at the hotel casino on Oitavo. That the hotel staff would find them and judge me. It’s comforting Gus understands without me having to say anything. Maybe he sees me as a proud woman, unable to let others witness my weaknesses. Whatever. He’s totally right.

I come forward and hug Gus’s arm, resting my forehead on his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Without turning towards me, he twists his head and lays his lips on my hair.

“I think you were right about the sleeping pills. I should have listened to you.”

“It’s okay. You tried.”

“I need to try harder. How about I give you a massage later? You look like you could use it.”

“Hmmm, sure.” Gus giving me a massage? I like the sound of that.

“I’ll bring you something for your headache. Go eat.”

I leave him in the laundry room, washing my sheets and thinking about how to care for me when I can’t even take care of myself.