Resisting Rosaleen (18+)

Epilogue - Nikolas Camillo POV

"This is the last one."

Benjamin Franklin laid the last box on the dining table with a thump. You could see that sweat had drenched his shirt. Despite being a very large man, I guess moving day makes everyone tired.

My other friends wanted to throw a party for me before leaving and I let them. That's why I woke up to such a mess this morning: popcorn on the lone sofa I had, soda cans in the bedroom, and one of my shirts signed with messages from everyone. I kept that one and put it in one of my luggage bags. Although fun, it added to the hassle of packing up.

I peeked at the contents of the box. It was the last one for a reason. It was the box which held everything I had in my office at Goldenlux.

I reached inside and the first thing I grasped were the divorce papers. Time flies quick when a lot of things are going on in your life. In this case, I couldn't believe how it's already been months since Bianca and I have filed for divorce. By the time I've settled into my new place, it would be official.

It wasn't easy. I could still remember the night when Leonel Alexeev pulled up in my driveway just to tell me that my ex wife had lied about being pregnant. His nose was bleeding and he had been punched by Wyatt Martin, a guy who's more of a stranger now than a friend.

It was also the same night that I saw Rosaleen for the last time.

Everything after that was a painful blur. Painful for a lot of reasons. Of course, even though I've moved on by now, ending the relationship with Bianca in the worst terms possible was painful. I was a liar, she was a liar, and everything was a disaster. Despite the lows we've been through, I did love that woman and it pained me that things went the way they went.

But at the same time, I dodged a bullet—a deadly one. I moved out right after that and settled temporarily in this apartment. It was far from Bianca but close to Goldenlux. Luckily, despite the personal problems I had to attend to, I was able to keep my job as principal until I decided to resign. I guess having the owner of the school, Mr. Ramsford, as your uncle has its perks. Not just perks—it was a whole blessing.

Benjamin was concerned for a while that I'd relapse but I proved him—and even myself—relieved when the urge for alcohol, yet alone anything similar, was long gone from me. I wanted to feel the pain this time. I wanted to feel it, let it surround me and pull me down, drown me, then swim upwards. That's exactly what I did.

I put the file into my bag. Then, I put my hand in the box again and grabbed what I could. It was a framed photo of me and Bianca, taken around the time we first met. We looked young and happy. I threw it in the trash can. Where I'm going, there's no room for that kind of luggage.

The next to come out of the box was a Rubik's cube—an all white one. I can't remember where or when I got it, but its been on that shelf in my office since forever. I decided to give it to Benjamin. He likes odd stuff—odd stuff and odd people.

The next I took out was a book: The Little Prince. It was from a book fair during my first year as a principal in Golden. I never knew that I kept it. I put it in my bag.

I went through the rest of the box and separated those valuable to be put in storage, those I'll bring with me, things I'd donate, and things I'd throw away. I've been filtering my things for weeks now but I had to finalize everything today.

For dinner, I went to Benjamin's house and enjoyed some of his wife's cooking. We've been hanging out a lot in these past months, more as friends than therapist-and-client which wasn't allowed anyway to begin with.

I thanked him and his wife before saying my goodnight and goodbye.

He pulled me in for a hug, "You take care of yourself, alright?"

I didn't go home right away. I decided to drive around town, passing by as much as I could. It's probably gonna be a long time before I visit here again.

I first went by the school. It was bittersweet to say goodbye to it. I had a lot of memories there, not just from when I was the principal, but also from when I was a student.

I passed by the park. I passed by the malls which were closing. I also passed by the store I used to buy liquor from nearly every night. I passed by a lot of places, but I was saving a special one for last.

By the time I parked by the docks, exactly beside Miss Poppy's, it was nearly midnight.

I stayed there, contemplating my life. The next day would be my flight and I'll be starting over. A new place, a new job, a new life. It was surreal. Just a year or two ago, I thought I already had my life set in motion: stable job, fresh marriage, a nice home. A lot can happen in such a short span of time. I was getting overwhelmed.

I looked up, expecting to see the moon, but it was nowhere to be found. I did, however, see millions of stars that speckled a dark blue canvas. A girl once asked me if the moon looked beautiful. I should've answered her.

That girl. She visits me in my dreams sometimes. In some dreams, we're dancing in the middle of a party, arms locked in an embrace as we swayed to music. In some dreams, we're alone in a house I've never seen before, playing board games as we ate bacon. In some dreams, she's mad at me and was looking out of the window as I drove, lips pouted adorably as she chose to ignore me. In some dreams, we're shopping and I was carrying so many bags that I thought my legs would give out.

And in some dreams, I could see her crying—looking the same as the last night I saw her: eyes red, lips puffy, and hands clutching the arms I had around her.

I sighed. I was missing Rosaleen Martin. I've missed her since the day I lost her.

Before I could get too emotional, I drove home. I was suddenly sad that my car will meet its new owners tomorrow. I've had a lot of memories in that car too.

My apartment was nearly bare when I entered. All my belongings were in bags and a few boxes. It didn't look homey anymore. I went straight to my bed as soon as I shrugged my shoes off.

When I woke up, I had mixed emotions.

I used my remaining hours to settle a few things: get my deposit back, give the car away, and make a few calls. Even so, I still had to wait a long time at the airport.

Waiting for my flight, I pulled out the lone book I had in my bag: Le Petit Prince.

It wasn't my favorite story but it was a classic. It's the story of a little prince who journeys one planet at a time. In those planets, he encounters different types of people. There's a drunkard whose shame causes them to drink continuously; there's a businessman who owns everything and therefore had to keep track of everything he owned; there's a king with no subjects to obey him, no one to stand by him. There's a lot more but I couldn't recall. Then there's also the rose.

The rose was the prince's love. Although her nature causes them to part at first, at some part in his journey, the prince eventually does everything he can to get back to her—to find her again, to be with her again.

I thought about my rose. I thought about my love. I thought about how, despite the many flowers in the world, my rose was still the brightest, most beautiful one for me.

But then I thought about the many planets between us and the thorns that guarded her.

I put the book away and stared at my ticket. I convinced myself that I was starting over for the sake of starting over. I even promised myself that I wouldn't look for her and that I'd simply live my life and let fate take over. I was just giving fate a little nudge.

If we cross paths, then we cross paths. Maybe it'll be at some grocery while I'm looking for ketchup and she's looking for mustard.

There was still some hope in this little prince. That's why when I was given the option to move, I chose the first place that came to my mind.

Now it wasn't just a place in my mind anymore. It was a destination, printed in capital letters on the ticket between my fingers:

New York