Who knew

Me, you and this dark scary night

I would like to say I tried to process everything that happened between me and Marshall that morning. But that just wasn't right. Being as overwhelmed as I was by all the events of that car ride was making me unable to think clearly and try to untangle all the mess that Marshall created in my head.

For the first time in forever, I let it be as it was and gave my mind a rest. After all, the already infamous "pajama party" was waiting for me just like a Miami trip: waving from the horizon and warning about the danger.

Was I ready for it? I don't think so. But I had no choice.

So...

Marshall's driver picked me up from work just as I finished my day. I didn't have any more interaction with Marshall and Paul was very busy as Denaun and Royce had their day off from the studio, dealing with their own business. I spent the working day on my own, furiously writing the articles and editing the stuff I'd written earlier. I left the studio without saying goodbyes, Marshall being locked up in a booth saved me from doing it.

I packed carefully this time, realizing I forgot to ask how many days the Miami trip was supposed to be. Should've been longer than the New York one as Paul named a lot of stuff to do there so I did my best with the preparations. Everything was going just as planned before my phone decided to flash with the notification of the missed call.

The call from my mom...

Ugh... It was one of those topics I tried to avoid. I'd had a difficult relationship with my mother since my childhood and as time went, nothing really changed. So, seeing her name popping up on the screen as a reminder made me swallow nervously.

I knew I had to call back but I didn't really want to.

My mom was never in Detroit. In fact, it was hard to imagine how she could ever live in that city as the image she was serving to the eye of the stranger was the exact opposite of the city we lived in. She traveled the world, disappearing for months without many details, sending me random postcards just as the official mother-daughter relationship required. It'd been like that since I was a teenager.

Mom miles away with the new boyfriend or my "stepdad". Unlike Marshall's situation at all, way too polished of a story, and yet...

Since my dad's death when I was 4 years old, she'd been never interested in my life and never even asked me much about how I was doing. This time wasn't an exception. When I called back, I could barely handle the conversation.

She told me she was in France and her new husband Joel was taking her all the way around Europe, not missing a country. My job was completely forgotten in the sea of the talk, my health and my interests were not even important. We talked for half an hour or so, it was the first conversation in a month. She asked me not to contact her too much, she was busy.

As a result, I hang up the phone, feeling sad and absolutely exhausted.

Before I'd been nervous to go to Marshall's place but when the sunset drowned in the gloomy darkness and it was time to go, I sat down in the car without thinking. Some part of me wished the call had never happened. I wasn't in the mood for anything now.

All I wanted was to be alone and maybe...

No, I wouldn't admit it. I wouldn't admit that I had an urge to cry about it.

I swallowed the bitterness after fighting it for the whole road. Marshall's mansion met me with the already familiar image. Impressively big house lightened by hundreds of small dimmed lights as if the bright ones could disturb the darkness. The driver helped me with my luggage and showed me the way.