Page 74 of Come Back To Me

“How long has this place been here?” My eyes are watering from how fast I threw back my drink. I hold the back of my hand against my mouth, not taking my eyes from the wall.

“Six months.”

Six months, six months, six months. I just missed it when I left to Paris.

“There’s one in Seattle too,” he says. “And Miami, New York, New Orleans, Chicago, and LA.”

All the places I’ve lived. I feel lightheaded. I drink my second drink and then leave twenty quid on the bar and walk out.

Come back to me. Come back. Come.

I call Posey as soon as I get back to the flat.

“Yara,” she says as soon as she answers. “Well, well, well. The prodigal son returns.”

“I have to leave again,” I blurt.

She’s quiet.

“Posey…are you there?”

“Yeah…yeah,” she stumbles. I hear her say something to someone on her side and then she’s back.

“Yara, did David contact you?”

“Not since the news things, no. Why?”

“Yara, he came to see me. After you left.”

I drop the phone on the bed and have to scramble to retrieve it from the rumpled sheets.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Posey?”

She sighs. “Did you find the restaurant?”

“Yes,” I say. “But what does that have to do with you seeing him?”

“Nothing,” she says, quickly. “He did a Tour de Friends, Yara.”

“What does that mean?” I snap.

“Look, this is between you and David, but he came round after you left. He wanted to know you. The parts that he didn’t. Your London life, I suppose.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” My tone is angry.

I walk into the kitchen with the phone still pressed against my ear and pull a bottle of Burley’s from the liquor cabinet.

“Fuck you, Yara,” Posey said. “You disappear every few years and I don’t hear from you. You don’t call and you don’t answer e-mails. I didn’t know you married the guy, thanks for telling me, by the way.”

My anger dissipates. She’s right. It’s my fault. I’ve been doing this to everyone in my life for years. Posey was the only one who consistently forgave and accepted me for who I was.

“I’m sorry, Posey,” I say. “You’re right. I’m so sorry.”

I hear her switch the phone to her other ear. “You’re going to Seattle, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I say. “I have to go find him.”

“Do you need me to come?” she asks.

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