Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
It was that confidence he helped instill, by continually giving me affirmation on my wild notions of wanting to be a travel blogger one day, that helped to launch me out on a whirlwind career of travel and adventure. I can never repay him for that.
Funny that when I find I’ve hit a low point in my life, it’s not my parents I turn to for help. As much as I love them like the air I breathe, it’s Kane I need to be near in times such as these.
Tonight was great—low pressure. I showered and shaved, and, of course, brushed the fur from my teeth. I even took advantage of his hairdryer, because he’s a man who doesn’t mind the vanity of styling his hair, and I was feeling somewhat pretty when we stepped out for dinner. We walked from his city apartment to a tapas restaurant and drank sangria while we sampled different dishes. I knew he was worried about me, but he kept the talk light and comfortable.
I appreciated it, but I’m not stupid. I can still see the worry in his eyes, and I know he’s going to push me on it. Because he’s my best friend, I’ll confide in him.
Yes, I travel for a living. I barely manage to see Kane a few times each year. I try to catch a game of his, and during summer breaks when he comes home to visit his family, I’ll coordinate trips back so we can hang for a bit. We talk by phone frequently, and we text almost every day. There has never been a lull in our friendship over the ten years since we first met, and frankly… I don’t know what I’d do without him.
We have a lovely walk back to his apartment after dinner, the summer night perfect. We take Samson for a quick potty, then, upon Kane’s suggestion, we open a bottle of wine to enjoy on his patio that overlooks downtown Phoenix.
His patio is quite large, holding a gas grill on one end and a table that seats four on the other. It could do with a few potted plants out here, but they’d never survive given how much Kane travels.
We settle into our chairs, quietly sipping at our wine, and look out over the city streets below. Samson settles down on the concrete near the railing, pushing his nose through the metal poles, and sniffs the city air.
It’s Kane who makes a move to poke into my business. “So, are you going to tell me why you’re here?”
I had indeed planned a visit to see him in October, but circumstances led me here almost a month early with no forewarning. I know he’s worried.
I shrug, not sure where to begin. “Would you accept I’m having an existential crisis?”
“Way too vague,” he replies with a chuckle.
I take another sip of wine, this one larger than the last. A clear sign I need fortification, and Kane’s eyes narrow slightly. My gaze moves back out over the cityscape, and I admit, “There was an incident. I was attacked.”
Kane doesn’t say anything, but, from the corner of my eye, he sits up straighter in his chair. I can almost feel pulses of violence coming off him.
It reminds me of when we were back in college, and I got drunk at a frat party. I have no recollection of the event, but the next day he told me some guy had been on top of me in a bedroom, and I’d probably been pretty close to getting raped. I don’t know what he did to the guy, but he told me the problem had been handled.
He carried me home that night, safe in his strong arms, and sat by my bed until the next morning when I woke up, hungover and feeling awful. When he’d recounted what happened, it was the same… waves of anger and a need to rain destruction down on someone that would dare hurt me.
Getting up the nerve to look across the table, I start to explain it correctly, so he can understand why I am indeed having a crisis.
“I’ve traveled to all fifty states,” I begin slowly, and he merely watches. He’s patient in that way. “Canada, Central America, Latin America. Europe twice. I’ve been so many places I need a spreadsheet to keep track.”
“I have a digital map I mark with every place you’ve been to,” he says. There’s such pride in his voice I feel a lump in my throat.
“You do?” I ask in awe.
“I always have my eye on you, Mollie,” he replies, but his voice has a hard edge. What it conveys is that while he watches from a distance, he can’t do much more than that.
I nod, understanding his dilemma. He’s been my protector from the start, and he can’t be effective at it with me so far away. That causes him pain.