The Garavaglias

Chapter 1

Part 2; Chapter 1

The bathroom I was currently in reeked of piss and wet dog. As much money as I, and everyone else who boards flights at the Portland airport day in and out spends, you'd think they had enough money to have clean bathrooms.

At least the water is actually warm; I thought to myself as I soaked my hands in soap, imagining I was scrubbing myself clean in the shower. As soon as I pulled my hands away the water stopped. I'd always loved those automatic sinks because it meant that I didn't have to touch anything, eliminating extra germs. It made me feel a bit better about the whole public restroom thing.

When I was done drying my hands, (also automatic, thank God.) I checked my reflection in the mirror. My blonde hair tickled the tops of my shoulders. I'd shopped it all off a month after leaving New York, hoping the change would bring me some semblance of happiness, a significance of change if you will. It didn't. But, it did suit my face. I tussled it a bit, before exiting the restroom and making my way into the commotion of everyone jetting off to somewhere. For some reason that thought brought me a lot of comfort; that everyone was heading somewhere different, but had to be confined to the same building together for a certain amount of time, forced into coexisting. I walked back to my seat in section C7 and sat down, placing my purse in the chair next to me so that nobody would sit there, not that I'm not friendly. But because I'm too friendly. I've always had this fantasy of meeting a handsome stranger on the flight and screwing him in the airplane bathroom, (don't ask me why I'm not worried about the germs in that bathroom) and going our separate ways. Just thinking about it sent a heat through me that was almost uncomfortable. I crossed my legs and pushed the thoughts away. I have coincidentally also been celibate since leaving a year ago. I looked down at my ticket and nearly laughed out loud at the irony. Of course I was going back to New York, after almost a year of a steady career in an insurance agency and routine life. I mean I was coming back to Portland, but my mom is really sick. It would be wrong not to visit her. So I sucked it up and bought a ticket.

After finally boarding and getting comfortable in my seat, my hand began to shake. But it wasn't the flying that made me nervous. Because it was such a long flight I took anxiety medication to make wait more bearable. Landing was of course awful, my ears popped like crazy. After the flight attendants signaled it was okay to get up and start leaving I moved in autopilot; grabbing my carryon, walking off the plane and heading the baggage claim. As soon as I found my luggage I ordered an Uber. As I was waiting for my ride and mindlessly scrolling through my phone, I felt a warm body squeeze past me. I caught a whiff of a familiar scent. His scent. I looked up quickly, my heart pounding and looked around desperately. But the man that haunted my dreams was nowhere to be found, not a single dark haired man was even in my vicinity. I let out a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding in and returned to scrolling through my phone. My heartbeat finally evened out. He wasn't here. I know I seemed silly, scared shitless of running into an ex. But I was. So much in fact, it was one of my main reasons for almost not coming back to see my sick mother. I tried to shake the feelings away.

I'd forgotten how weird staying in a hotel was. I knew it was mostly safe, but also I couldn't help but envision a psychopath strutting down the hallway with a bloody knife in hand looking for his next victim. The thought sent chills down my spine. I shivered and unlocked my door and quickly closed it behind me, locking it with shaky fingers. My mom was away at a special clinic for two days, and I'd chosen to come early and settle in. Which I'm now realizing was stupid, considering I'd unpacked in under fifteen minutes. I decided against swimming in the hotel pool (psycho murderer on the brain) and turned on some Disney movie to calm my ever-frantic nerves and cuddled into bed.

My heart beat fast as my feet pounded the floor, I was running faster than I ever had in my life, but it still didn't seem fast enough. Behind me a tall man chased after. He was wearing a ski mask so I couldn't quite see his face. I rounded the corner and tripped over my feet, falling flat on my face. The man had caught up to me and grabbed my arm yanking me off the floor and throwing me over his shoulder. I screamed and kicked, doing anything to break free. Finally he set me down.

"Summer." He said, taking off his mask. I looked into his green eyes and melted.

"Beau." I breathed out. He was on me in an instant, kissing me all over. My body reacted on instinct as I wrapped my arms around his neck, I felt him slide my shorts off and pick me up. He backed me into a wall and-

I hit the floor with a thud.

"Ouch." I groaned out loud, sitting up to inspect myself. No damage. Well my pajama shorts were soaked. I don't know what the hell that was. Well I did. I had more dreams about Beau than I cared to admit, all of them ending the same way; amazing orgasms. But never one where I thought he was going to kill me. On top of the odd nightmare, my neck was killing me. I stood up and stretched, deciding a shower was obviously needed. After turning on the water, I let it heat up as I thought about Beau again. I brushed my teeth viciously, front, back, inside, outside, and so far back on my tongue I almost gagged. Throwing up wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to me. I'd do anything to get him out of my system at this point.

As I stepped out of the shower I realized that I had nowhere to be. My mother still wasn't back yet and I didn't have any friends here. I put on a backless summer dress and brushed out my hair. Afterhours of contemplating, I decided the hotel bar would be safe to venture out to.

When I finally reached the end of the long staircase that cascaded down to the bar, I ordered a martini and sat a small table in the back. It was quiet enough that I could hear my thoughts, thoughts of Beau. My mind often liked to linger on the thought of him and what could have been had I of stayed. Some nights, I wished I did. The first month with out him was almost unbearable. I cried myself to sleep and had reoccurring nightmares of that night in Barbados. I thought about calling him a million times, but stopped, convincing myself this was the best option for both of us. It couldn't have been healthy to be as all consumed in each other as we were. I sipped my drink. I was deep in thought when I looked up and locked eyes with a very familiar brown pair. Charlie. He smiled at me, his grin boyish and handsome. He'd let his beard grow in since I'd last saw him. I smiled back, wondering what Beau looked like after all this time. He stood up and I scanned the room for his brother.

"He's not here." Charlie mocked with a smirk.

"I wasn't even looking for him." I lied, rolling my eyes.

"Yea okay. It's been awhile Sum." The little nickname he had for me warmed my heart.

"It has. How are you?" I took another sip of my rather strong martini and waited for his response.

"I've been good. Where did you run off to?" He questioned.

"Portland, Oregon. And what are you even doing hanging out in a hotel lobby bar?" I snickered.

"I have business to do with owner of this hotel and he is very late. Why there?" He asked drinking his corona. Every time he pressed his lips to the glass bottle it took me right back to the bungalow and Beau's laugh as he sipped away at his beer.

I didn't even want to know what kind of 'business' he was talking about, "Eh, it was somewhere I'd never been before." He laughed. 

"So why are you back?" He queried.

"Well aren't you full of questions." I laughed.

"I'm a curious guy." He countered, checking out some girls ass in the process.

"My mother is sick." I said, putting my drink down and clearing my throat. "How is he?" I added quickly.

"I'm sorry about that," his eyes sobered, the usual playful flicker gone, "and it seems as though I'm not the only curious one here." He arched a knowing eyebrow. I blushed.

"He's okay."

"That's all I get?" I pressed on.

"Hey man, you left okay?" He said, suddenly defensive of his brother.

"It was the best for us." I replied.

"Says who?"

"Me." I said standing up abruptly. I needed to get away from him. "It was nice to see you." I added before walking away. I heard him whisper a 'Yea run away again.' Under his breath as I passed him. My blood boiled with annoyance, how dare he judge me. He only knew one side of the story. Not that it would have matter if he'd known mine or not, he still wouldn't have got it. I don't even fully understand my reasoning's, even now. I made my way back up to my room and stripped off my clothes and climbed into bed. I couldn't stop the tears rolling down my face, nor did I want to. It was the most I'd allowed myself to feel in the last few months.