“Oh my God, I needed this night out,” my new best friend, Ashley, smirks and rolls her eyes. “Work is really riding my ass at the moment.”
“Yeah, me too,” I comment idly. I don’t mind though, I like the hard work. Landing the position as a staff writer for one of the smaller newspapers in Wellington was a pleasant shock and just proved to me that leaving America was the best thing for me… a fact that I have confirmed to me every single day. “Good job it’s Julia’s birthday then.”
“Where is Julia?” Ashley puts her hand over her eye and scans the night club as if she’s just going to find her. The place is absolutely packed, I have to say I don’t think she’s got much luck in finding anyone, least of all Julia. “Is she with Nick?”
“Who’s Nick?” I’m new to this group of friends, which I think they forget sometimes. I’ve only been in New Zealand for a month, but I have to admit it feels like much longer even to me. Sometimes it’s my life in America that seems like the distant dream and that I’ve always been here. All the drama with my parents, it feels like someone else’s problem now. It feels so disconnected from me, it’s wonderful. “Is he her boyfriend?”
“Boyfriend is a strong word,” she chuckles and nudges me playfully in the side. “More like fuck buddy. He’s hot though, so I don’t blame her. I sure as hell would!”
“You aren’t thinking about it… are you?” I might only really know this lot from work, but they don’t seem like the disloyal type. “Not if Julia likes him.”
“Oh God no.” She shakes her head. “You know I’m only interested in Mr. Serscey.”
Urgh, our boss. I have no idea what Ashley sees in him, but then I suppose it’s each to their own. Everyone has their own tastes and if that’s the sort of man she likes then at least we won’t ever fight over a guy. I don’t much go for the older, slightly balding, definitely married types. I much prefer people without attachments, closer to my age.
“Right, sure.” I shake my empty glass at Ashley indicating that I need to top up. “I’m headed to the bar. Do you want anything?”
She holds up her bottle of beer and smiles. “Yes please. I’m headed to the bathroom. Maybe Julia is in there… hopefully by herself. I’ll meet you back around here in a bit?”
I know that won’t happen, losing friends in a night club is just standard, but I don’t mind. I actually feel much freer and confident here in New Zealand. It makes me realize just how tightly wound I was in America. Even at college I was like a coil ready to spring. No wonder things didn’t work out between me and Liam…
Not that I’m thinking about Liam anymore. I don’t really think about anyone in that way. Of course, it’s challenging not to think about Stephen because I’m in his home town. I often wonder what he would be doing if he were still alive and living here. Would he come to night clubs such as this one or would he be too cool? Would he be playing gigs all over the city or would he still be struggling to find his fame? Maybe this is the sort of place he used to come before he made the journey over to America. I just don’t know. I wish I did, but I don’t.
I keep his pick with me the whole time, just wanting to keep his spirit alive. Just because we didn’t know each other for a long time, doesn’t mean he didn’t affect me. Meeting him drove me to this place and helped me to find my happiness. I will always be grateful to him for that. It is a shame that he isn’t here to share this journey with me, but I suppose I cannot change what’s already happened. It is what it is, I just need to make the best of what my life is right now. At least it’s good, at least I’m happy now. That’s the most important thing.
I wave goodbye to Ashley, hoping that I’ll at least be able to find her before the night is up, and I push my way through the throngs of the crowd, trying desperately not to get stuck in the sweaty, swaying bodies. I can see the bar up there in the distance, but with the effort it’ll take me to get there, it feels like a mountain I have to climb.
I sigh loudly and wipe some perspiration off my forehead. It’s just lucky that I’m much more casual about how I look these days and I don’t mind the natural look. I have a little bit of make up on but it’s not enough to get melted or smudged by the intense heat that’s floating through this room.
I wipe my wet hand down on the skirt of my black summery dress and I push my way forward. I really do need a drink and this is the only way I’m going to get one.
“Oof.” Someone bangs into the back of me and sends me flying forward. I bash into the person in front of me but as I start to apologize I realize that she’s too intoxicated to care. Instead, my eyes automatically fly around to find the person who bashed into me.
“Sorry, miss,” he mutters into my ear as he brushes past me.
That voice. I stop dead where I am on the spot as I get chills. Goose bumps pop up and down my arm as I gulp noisily. I know that voice, I know it well. It’s the voice I spent one amazing night with, it’s the voice that brought me here, it’s the voice that I often hear in my dreams, attached to the beautiful man who inspires me every day. But that’s impossible.
My eyes trail in the direction that the man has left and my heart skips a beat. Not only does he have that voice, he also has the same shaggy blond hair and muscular broad shoulders. I don’t think I’m seeing things, I think it might really be him,
Stephen Jones.
But how? It isn’t possible, rationally I know that.. Stephen got killed in America, in some dive bar. Some chick called Katie found his dead body… but as my eyes continue to follow him I become even more convinced that somehow it’s him. He even shares the same swagger. I don’t know how, but it has to be him. Maybe the newspaper got it wrong, maybe it was a case of mistaken identity. If I really think about it, it was only one small article I saw, barely nothing online. I left pretty sharpish after that and I never thought to check up the details afterwards. I didn’t even search him again, almost as if I didn’t ever want to know.
Maybe, just maybe he is still alive. It isn’t possible, but maybe it is.
I think about the pick deep in my purse and I just know what I have to do. I can’t leave this mystery unsolved, I need my answer. I came all this way half way across the world after a chance meeting with him, and now despite all the odds being stacked against us, it seems like he’s here. Really here, in the same building as me, within almost touching distance.
I push my foot forward determined to take a step, and as I do it seems that time speeds right back up again. I didn’t even notice it slowing down as I watched him but now it’s moving too quickly. Everyone is rushing, the sounds whooshing into my ear are too loud, it makes me a little panicky and sick. I can barely keep track of him now and I’m absolutely terrified to lose him again because once I do I just know that I’ll never see him. This is my one and only chance. I have to take it. I need to grab it with both hands or I’ll always regret it.
The bar is forgotten, as is my thirst. I even forget about my friends as I race forwards. Luckily, I know that they’ll understand. I’ve told Ashley about Stephen and the story that brought me to New Zealand so I know for a fact that she’ll get it. To see the one person who’s had a profound, life changing effect on me standing in the same night club as me… it’s fate intervening, it has to be. What other explanation is there for this?
“Excuse me,” I try to be polite but it isn’t getting me anywhere. This is a desperate situation and I need to make my escape. “Move!” I eventually yell. “Get out of my way!” I leave a trail of drunk, disgruntled people behind me but I don’t care. My heart is hammering in my ears, my blood flow is violent and hot, I’ve never been so focused in my whole damn life. I don’t care about anything, only getting to him. He’s my end goal.
Finally, my eyes find him again, only he’s headed towards the exit. That might be better actually, maybe we can have a proper talk outside of this nightmare. I move faster and more determinedly, excited to get to the exit. Any minute now I’ll be with the man that I just know is Stephen, and I will finally get my answers. I can’t wait to find out what happened, how he disappeared, who was really murdered.
“Stephen,” I call out unabashedly as the cold air hits my face. I blink a few times trying to adjust to the darkness as my eyes scan from side to side. I see bodies everywhere, littering the streets around me, but none of them look like him. Disappointment crushes me as I realize that despite my best efforts I might have lost him after all. “Stephen!”
Did I imagine him? Have I finally cracked and started seeing him? I guess that’s possible, maybe it’s just taken a while for my traumatic time to catch up with me. Maybe it’s been there in the back of my mind, waiting to crop up, and now with a little bit of alcohol in my system it’s finally happened. I gulp, shaking my head as a tear threatens to fall. I’ve become so desperate to find him that I’ve started to imagine him the distance.