I look for my pieces of clothing scattered around the room, while Rami puts on his pants again. I end up turning around in bed until I can put on my shoes. I drink the rest of my latte and eat some grapes.
Rami sits in the middle of the bed, with satisfaction stamped on her face. A smile on his side shows up on his face, while he sees me putting on my shoes, clumsy. I adjust my dress and look for my cell phone. Last night, I must have taken it out of my dress pocket while we were making out.
"What about Joe?" I ask, going to the door.
"He's in another hotel and he's already going back home," he answers, sitting cross-legged on the bed.
"Okay then, I'll take a shower and pack my bags right away," I say to him, touching the doorknob. But before I open it, he interrupts me: "Aren't you forgetting something?" he asks, in a tone of sarcasm.
I turn to him and before anything else, I look around the room looking for something when I know what he means. I walk up to him quickly, lean my weight on the bed, and kiss him quickly on the lips.
He laughs happily and before I leave, I see my cell phone on a small table next to the door. I went down to get my cell phone and my room card right underneath it. I open the door and blow a kiss to Rami before I leave.
I check the hallway to see if anyone can see me leaving his room. Not that I'm embarrassed to be seen leaving his room, but what it might mean to others. The hallway is empty. I walk into my room and insert the card and open the door. I come across my room the same way I left it, with my coat hanging sloppily from the back of the chair.
I go into the bathroom and soon I undress. The bathroom in particular is colder than the bedroom, due to the tiles that cover the whole. During the hot bath, I remember the night I had. I remember the request for dating and us lost through the streets of Oslo, the yellowish light from the lamp in his room, illuminating his sweaty skin while he fucked me hard.
I see myself rubbing my hands over my body, imagining his on my skin, as if I couldn't get enough of him. I distance myself from these thoughts and finish my bath.
The cars that brought us from the airport the day we arrived in Oslo are waiting for us in front of the building. I give my card to the brunette receptionist with short, voluminous hair, who looks at me almost with admiration. I am the last to check out, while everyone is already packing their bags in the cars. A gentle smile comes from the receptionist, who wishes me a good trip in an English with almost no accent at all.
I take a few steps out of the building and feel a warm breeze blow my wet hair. Rami waits for me near the open car door, while Ana is already sitting in the front with the driver, eating a cereal bar. He makes a gesture for me to get into the car first, but first, I look one last time at the hotel street and the people walking by us, some of whom I've seen here before. I get in the car.
We do the same route we did when we arrived, passing through the same buildings and tolls. Rami made a video call with Joe on the way. As I see it, we are already on the private airstrip, right next to the city airport. They unload their bags on the jet that already awaits us and for a moment, I feel that this place is already very important to me. Everything that happened to me and the person who could share all this made this trip as intimate as possible.
The warm breeze is stronger now, blowing my hair more violently. I look at the sunny sky and the long clouds, contemplating for a moment the solid ground before facing hours of flight.
Rami is already heading for the stairs extended at the aviation door, with his hand luggage. Cary walks beside him, talking about something while patting on Rami's back, friendly. The two share smiles and climb the stairs as I enjoy the Norwegian summer for a few more moments.
Rami is sitting in the corner of the jet, near the window. I walk up to him with my purse beside me. I open the small luggage compartment above the seats and store my bag. I hear Rami's cell phone ring, the ringtone that resembles mine. He looks across the screen at who's calling him and then gets up, his expression different from before.
"I have to answer, I'll be right back" he gets up and walks down the stairs, like he doesn't want anyone to hear. His steps are wide, with one hand in the back pocket of his pants and the other holding his cell phone so tightly that his fingertips are pale.
Should I be worried? Shouldn't I say something? If I say something, won't it look like I'm too jealous or possessive? I sit on my seat, feeling too hesitant to do anything. But if I don't ask, it'll look like I don't even care about anything. If I try to mention the connection in a cool way, maybe he won't notice my anxiety flying out of my ass.
After exactly two minutes, because I kept looking obsessively at my cell phone's clock, it comes back, putting the phone in my pocket and his eyes staring at the floor. After long steps, he sits next to me, rubbing his hands quickly. My anxious eyes follow the movement of his hands. We continued in silence for a few seconds until I break it. "Something happened? I try to sound just curious. Not possessive. Just curious.
He shows a sad smile and with one of his hands, he holds mine. His hands are cold, which is unusual. "It was nothing, Domi', he says, like a liar.
I always had that sixth sense. In 97.4% of the times, I can tell if someone is lying. It's like my mind can smell the smell, the vibrations. As if I could decipher it like a supercomputer with emotions. When I was little, I always knew when my dad was lying to my mom when he used to say he had quit smoking when his shirts smelled of nicotine and packs were hidden between the pillows.
He looks calm, but with a touch of sadness in the corners of his lips.
LONDON, ENGLAND📌
The flight was smooth, with some turbulence because we managed to escape in time for a summer storm in Oslo. But London is no different from there, the sun is shining like never before. Rami slept and woke up every 40 minutes, just to change position.
We waited for the ladder to come down and I see Ana closing her Louis Vuitton purse and fixing the neckline of her shirt more than tightly. The breeze is colder and wetter than in Oslo. The runway is busy today with jets taking off and landing while we unload the bags.
I see Rami typing frantically on his cell phone. His lips twitch with every word he writes and I wonder if I should say something. He comes to me, with his bags beside him. "Domi, come here" he says, making a gesture with his hands, taking me to a covered part of the track. We distanced ourselves from the group, some going to their homes, others to hotel rooms.
"I won't be able to stay," he begins, passing his hands over my arms, "Sam called me and said I still have scenes to record from Mr. Robot.
I feel my expression changing, my worried face becomes sad and melancholy. "Does that mean you're leaving?" I ask, looking deep into his eyes.
He nods his head. "You can come with me" he suggests, leaning his hand on his back.
"I wish I could, but I have my work here, post-production and all," my fingers holding the collar of his jacket, "for how long?"
"Two weeks. Maybe three. I really don't know, because there's still the narrations, so..."
Is that what I was feeling this morning? That discomfort as if something was going to happen? Was that it?
"No problem, we'll talk to each other every day, send messages, FaceTime... we'll manage" I say, trying to sound optimistic, even though we know that this is not good, not soon after we make everything official.
"I'll come back, I promise you. Then I'll take you with me." He promises, bringing my body close to him, holding my face with one hand.
"Are you still going today?" I ask, but something in my tone tries to convince him to stay with me just one more day.
"I take the first flight to New York," he says, sad to be disappointed.
"You can stay at my house tonight and take your flight tomorrow," I try to convince him, "and besides, you stayed on a jet for five hours, you'll be exhausted if you fly for seven more hours.
"It's an eight-hour flight," he corrects me and I make a face, "Domi, we'll talk to each other every day, I'll find a way to call you between shootings." Rami gropes my face with his warm, soft hands against my cheek.
"Okay, since I didn't convince you to stay another day, I'm going with you to buy the ticket, can I?" I ask, holding the back of his hands.
"You have to come with me," he places great emphasis on having, which makes me smile.