Nineteen.
Roman Godfrey was nineteen years old and he didn't like himself very much. But, not that many people would know that. He had spent his life puffing out his chest and acting confident. Sometimes even he forgot it was an act. It always came back to haunt him in moments like these- when he's quickly coming down and feeling what little serotonin he has left slipping away.
His whole body had been fully electrified, but it's slowly becoming numb again. The world around him starts feeling grey and bland again.
Emma lays almost still on the bed. It had been a long day- well not really. They had awoken in the afternoon and spent the rest of the sunlight swimming and relaxing on the deck of their villa. The villa's next to theirs was filled with small families on vacation. When they would walk past the parents in the evening the would side-eye them. Not in a judgmental way per se. They looked at them with some odd sense of nostalgia and jealousy. They, at one point, had also spent their weeks trashed on a vacation that daddy paid for.
In the sunshine, they split a couple of mojitos. Due to his upir birthright, Roman's tolerance was higher than she remembered. He was already a tall guy with the ability to drink most grown men under the table, but this was absurd. He often tippled the amount of her intake- whether in alcohol or other substances.
The resort knew it's clientele well enough to keep their minibar stocked and their eyes diverted from said substances.
Roman leans forward a bit, then lays over top of her. His face is buried in the comforter and stays still. She's sure he's asleep. Before she frees herself from his weight, he pushes himself up and back to life.
Regardless of those distractions, Roman Godfrey did not like himself very much. It's a moment of clarity in the haze he's been living in. He's stumbled over to a glass table and accidentally caught a glimpse of his reflection. In the flurry of white powder that's messily spread around, he sees just how tired he looks. He almost resembles the kid that had cut his chest right open while being blown- just to scare a woman.
He looks tired and sad. Roman closes his eyes to push it away. When he opens them he uses a card and pushes a line of the powder to cover his reflection. He leans forward and snorts it quickly then rubs his nose. With a quick bounce on the balls of his feet, he's back. This is who he wants to be all the time. Roman used his finger to gather the remaining, lone specks of cocaine.
Emma watches from the other side of the room as Roman haphazardly moves around. He had left her lying there on the bed without an explanation. She fades back into a haze and watches him walk back to the table. He moves awkwardly, naked, and stumbling over his own feet. It's silly enough to make her chuckle.
She closes her eyes and waits for him to come back. Emma thinks she might fall asleep until feels his fingers pressing at her lips. She complies and allows him to rub the remaining cocaine into her gums.
She opens her eyes at the sudden sensation and looks up at him.
Life had gone on whether he wanted it to or not. Every week that passed he became less and less confidant in finding Nadia. And with every drop in confidence, he'd find some way to fill its spot. That's when Roman began acting his age.
Through all of the distractions, guilt over losing Nadia lingered in his mind. Sometimes he would catch himself zoning out and forgetting where he is. It would only be a couple of seconds, but it would be difficult to shake off.
Emma had always prided herself on not developing any addictions. Well, drug addictions anyways. She had come to terms with the slight alcohol abuse that happened in her senior year of high school. But, at least she was a high functioning alcoholic. She had managed to make it through her fair share of school days with either a hangover or a small to moderate buzz.
They were anything but functioning. In fact, the only way they were able to participate in any part of the day was to use more. Roman, along with being a long-time user, is basically super-human. His tolerance at times triples her own.
They both shared the overwhelming desire to be anyone other than themselves. That's what their trips were- just theatrics. They show up to these places and trying to blend in with the life of socialites and debutantes. It would be easy that way. But that's not the life they live.
Roman had been especially prone to up and leaving. On more than one occasion she had been awoken in the early hours of the morning and told to pack a bag. Those weren't always short trips either. One had been two days in New York, followed by 7 days in the Maldives. It had been exhausting, to say the least.
Emma's unsure about when he finds time to actually work. He would take a phone call here or there, but it seemed like simply being Roman Godfrey was his job. He was a brand on his own now. A little sideshow that the company could use to distract from their less than ethical behavior.
"Roman Godfrey is the young, sexy, charismatic, and tolerable Elon Musk," read an article from Bloomberg Business. "Godfrey is an enigma in how own right. Somehow, he has managed to maintain a balance between his public and private life."
The world cared more about what and who Roman was doing. So much of his life had been made public without consent. From now on this was his life and people would see him how he wanted to be seen.
Apart from tagging along with Roman, Emma had effectively done nothing all summer. Time had slipped away so fast, and before she knew it August had rolled around. She had been in relatively good health, minus the drug and alcohol consumption, and was trying to pick herself back up again.
After all, no one was left guilt-free.
She hadn't been home in a long time, either. After meeting with Finn, she went home. Then she came back to Roman's and never left. Emma arrived with a backpack and the clothes on her back. Anything she'd need Roman bought. She didn't want to go home- and she didn't have to.
So on the fourth day of their current trip, she hesitates to answer her phone. She and her mother hadn't been on the greatest of terms as of recent. Emma will admit that she instigated it but admittedly denies fault. It had all began after she confronted her mother with the information brought her.
"What are you trying to do?" Kay asks. "Disappoint yourself more?"
"I'm trying to figure out why no one will tell me the fucking truth about anything!"
"Okay, Emma you want the truth?" She nods slowly and feels her stomach drop to the floor. "Your father was useless drunk. He probably still is. After you were born, there would be days where I had no idea where he was or if he was coming back. I worked my ass off to get us out that and this is how you repay me? By calling me a liar?"
"Do those papers tell you about how I came home from class one night and the two of you were gone? Do they say anything about him stumbling back in with you at midnight? You're lucky he didn't kill you that night. You're lucky you were too young to remember that. You're lucky he left."
"It was not easy, either. I didn't have a plan-anywhere to go... All I had was a two year old and an eviction notice. You wanna know why I didn't want you to know these things? Because I didn't want you to think of yourself as a statistic. Because-" Kay taps two fingers down on the file in front of her. "On paper that's what you are. A statistic."
"How do you tell a little girl that her father doesn't want to see her? That he doesn't give a damn about- never did and never will. Is that the truth you want to hear?"
She was buried neck-deep in lies. Lies from her mother, but mostly lies from Roman. It proved easier to remain angry at her mother than Roman. She had a million questions left unanswered from him that she somehow found herself afraid to ask. Emma doesn't doubt that Roman would tell the truth, but maybe that's the problem. It's easier not to know.
Before letting herself linger in it anymore, she answers the phone. "Hello?" Emma says unenthusiastically.
"Are you having fun?" Kay asks. Under the cheerful tone is bubbling anger. Emma wishes that Kay Parker would just say whatever it really is she called to say.
"Yep," Emma says.
"That's nice," she says with a sarcastically nice tone, finally letting it free. "One of my coworkers showed me something the other day."
"Oh, yeah?" Emma yawns.
"Yeah, it was a photo of you and Roman doing what appears to be cocaine."
"What?" She hadn't expected that at all.
"Yeah, that was my reaction. Apparently, that little group you were hanging around is popular enough to end up on E! News' Instagram account."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she insists but knows her mom won't bite.
"These things follow you around, Emma. All it takes is a little Google search. When you go in for a job interview how are you going to explain that?"
"I don't know what you're talking about mom-" she sits up straight. "We haven't been hanging around anyone."
"Sure, Emma," Kay says coldly. "Regardless, I suggest you take a look at what else has been posted of you two."
Emma hangs up and quickly digs through her feed looking for the photos. The first one her mom had brought up didn't worry her that much. She wasn't tagged or even mentioned in the caption. They were surrounded by others, and far more important, people.
The other ones that she is tagged in are a bit lewder than she would like to admit. There's a little more groping than she's comfortable with other people seeing. But how was she supposed to know someone would take them? What kind of person takes photos without telling other people? Especially somewhere they had clearly expected privacy.
It's not like it had been that bad in person. The photos were bad timing. There was one awkwardly cropped one of them on their balcony. That one really was too far.
Her stomach drops when she remembers her mother had seen these. It wasn't like Kay didn't know that she and Roman were hooking up- she wasn't stupid- but now she couldn't deny it. It was there, everyone could see it. Everyone.
A creak on the floor begs her to push the thoughts away. She exits out before Roman has the chance to see. He would find this all incredibly hilarious. It's not. "What are you doing?" He asks.
"Just got off the phone with my mom."
"How is she?"
"She's fine," Emma says curtly. Roman hasn't bothered to open that can of worms yet.
"That's good," he says and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. "Are you going to get ready?"
"Yeah," she groans. "I'm going."
"Up, up, up!" He encourages.
Hi, hello.
First off thank you for being patient with me and reading this. I owe everyone a bit of an explanation for my being MIA for the last two months.
Covid has changed everyone's life, so I hate to use it as an excuse but it's the truth. I am physically healthy and fine, but mentally exhausted. Some of you know that I work in the film industry, so most of my jobs are contract and so it fluctuates. Covid has destroyed that. I've been and will be out of a job for the foreseeable future.
Along with that, the world is insane and again my mental health has been effected from it. I feel pretty helpless and unable to change things. It feels almost wrong to write while my country is quickly turning into a fascist state.
Tldr: Girl lays in self-pity while the world is on fire.
Again, thank you for your patience. I'm still dealing with these things but I'm dedicated to finishing this story.
Much love,
Elia
PS: you can peep the inspired photos on my tumblr