The security guard walks down the aisle-way, whistling. He does this to alert us to his presence to not scare anyone. Believe me, I’ve seen Die Hard a few times, and when I hear odd noises, I wonder what’s lurking in the shadows.
“Mr. Miller, how are you this fine…” Bernard pauses and looks at his watch. “Morning.”
“Morning, huh?” I glance over at Talia who is dead to the world. “I suppose I ought to wake her and get her home.”
“You be safe out there,” he says as he continues his patrol. New York is a somewhat safer city than it used to be, but it’s still a city, and there’s still crime all around us. It’s really no different than Los Angeles. This is where I have the benefit over Talia. While I haven’t been here before, I know what it’s like to live in a city.
I close the file and pack it away into my bag before scooting across the aisle to tap Talia on the shoulder. “Talia, it’s time to go.” I like that she stays with me, even though she doesn’t have to. I worry less knowing we’re walking together instead of her out there at night by herself. I’ve grown a bit protective of her.
“I fell asleep, huh?”
“Yeah, but it’s okay. I got a lot done. You can look it over in the morning. Well, later in the morning,” I say as I look at my watch.
Talia stretches. “Maybe I should drink more coffee,” she says, gathering her belongings.
“You’re fine. I feel like we balance each other out.”
“We do, don’t we?” She slips her arm into mine, and we walk out together. There are a few more desk lights on, but we don’t stop to see who else is working. If we stress about who’s staying later than we are, our project will suffer. We need to have a clear mind at all times.
Talia and I walk to the subway. She stays close to me, keeping her bag between us. Her father gave her a list of things to watch out for, and how to not make yourself a target. I’d probably do the same thing if I were him. Talia also has to text him whenever she leaves her apartment or the office, as well as when she arrives at her destination. Her father seems a bit overbearing, but it’s probably nice having someone who cares.
We make it to our platform just in time for the train. A minute later and we’d have to wait anywhere from fifteen to thirty minutes for the next one. That’s the one drawback about working late. The cheaper transportation is hard to come by.
Talia takes the inside seat and leans her head on my shoulder. Even though we’ve only known each other for a few days, it’s better than her leaning up against the dirty window.
When our stop is announced, I’m surprised to find Talia awake. Usually, she’s out like a light once the train starts moving. Another reason she shouldn’t ride alone at night. I’ve got to find a way to keep this girl awake in case I’m not around.
We only have a few blocks to walk once we get off the train. Talia and I live in a secured building, right across the hall from each other and on the third floor with no elevator. Talia thinks Margie and the other managers are trying to teach us a life lesson, showing us what we’ll be able to afford if we were to win and be offered a job. I know she’s right, and I honestly have no problem with my studio. It’s quiet, I have a view of the street, which granted, isn’t much, but it’s different from L.A., and I need that right now.
After making sure Talia’s in her place and her door’s locked, I head into my apartment, locking the door behind me. My bathroom is immediately to the right, and after a quick shower, I’m crawling into bed after one a.m. I should go to sleep, but instead, I look at my phone. Elle’s name is there, showing my most recent missed call. In fact, she’s my only missed call. Each time, I either send her to voicemail or let it ring through, unable to bring myself to talk to her. I figure by now, she knows I’m gone and is probably wondering where the hell I am.
By accident, my finger touches her name, and the call goes through. I’m left with deciding to either hang up quickly and hope the call didn’t register on her phone or to talk to her. It’s late, and I need my sleep, but I take too long to decide, and she’s saying hello.
My eyes close at the sound of her voice. I’ve missed hearing her, seeing her. “Hey.” My voice is strained, and my throat feels as if it’s going to close. This was a mistake. I should’ve held my stance and continued to ignore her. It’s for my own good, even though I know she’s freaking out. How do you tell someone you’re in love with, you don’t want to be near them because you can’t be a part of their self-destruction? Never mind the fact that you can’t bear to watch her be with another guy.
“Ben?” she says breathlessly, or at least that’s what my imagination tells me.
“Hi, Elle.” I want my words to be curt, but they’re not. Another reason why I can’t talk to her. My psyche doesn’t allow me to be pissed at her.
“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you around in weeks. You’re not working at the café anymore. You never answer your phone, and I never see you on campus. I look for you all the time. It’s like you’ve disappeared on me and I’m wondering if I need to send out a search party.” Elle sniffles, a sure sign she’s crying. I roll onto my back and close my eyes. The truth is on the tip of my tongue, but I’ve promised myself to keep my move a secret as long as possible. Elle will undoubtedly show up here, and right now I need to focus on my career and what’s best for me.
“Elle…”
“No, I get it, Ben. I messed up, and I’d really like to talk to you about it, but you don’
t call me back, you barely answer my texts messages and when I go to your place… you have a girlfriend, and you didn’t even tell me. I mean, I get it, but I want a chance to explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain, Elle.”
“But there is. I know I did something and I think I have it figured out.” Elle’s definitely crying and I’m on the verge of telling her everything, starting with the fact that I don’t have a girlfriend and the woman she can hear is only subletting. “Ben, please.”
Hearing her plead almost does me in, but I can’t do it. “Look, it’s late, and I need to get some sleep.”
“You called me back, Ben.”
I sigh. I have a feeling I’m going to regret saying this. “It was by accident, Elle.”
The intake of air is very audible over the phone. I have a feeling our friendship is over, despite what she’s done, I’ve now hammered the nail into our coffin. “Ben?”