I need a shower; I had pretty much run back to the hostel all the way from the bar. I hadn’t really been in the mood for another run-in with some dickhead with sticky fingers.
The cold water shocks me as it sprays hard out of the showerhead, almost sizzling against my burning skin.
I stand under it, going over the day.
It’s ending better than it started; the memory of that older guy’s face when I yelled,“I knew I could make you say more than one word”still makes me giggle. He was easily the highlight of my day.
Totally not my type, though.
You mean, not a vagabond?my brain teases.Not living out of a backpack? Not wondering if he’ll be having baked beans or ramen for dinner for the fourth night in a row?
Not like I can judge.
This is just temporary,I remind myself.I’ll get settled again soon, once I know what my future holds.
I dry off after the shower and change into a clean pair of jeans and a Foo Fighters T-shirt, then climb into bed, feeling my bones crack and sigh with relief.
A text message comes through just as I close my eyes.
Unknown caller: Where are you?
I delete the message and turn on my side, tucking my phone under the covers so I don’t see if another one comes through.
After a few minutes of tossing and turning, I sit back up. I guess sleep isn’t in the cards for me tonight.
Grabbing my jacket, pepper spray, and purse, I step out into the chilly night again.
Somewhere, something will be open.
Something to take my brain off the worries that feel like they’re filling up every single nook and cranny of my mind.
Something somewhere will help me live in the moment and not in my anxieties.
That’s the beauty of London.
Three
Kingsley
“Ernest, is it okay if Kylian comes in to say hi?” I ask, poking my head into the private hospital room the next day.
Ernest immediately sits up in bed. “Kylian is here? Tell him to get in here right now!” he says, throwing aside the newspaper in his hands.
That’s one thing we have alike, a morning routine of reading the paper, crinkling and inky under our fingers. Something about it makes me feel like I’m absorbing more of the information I’m reading.
Or maybe I’m just old-fashioned.
Like my grandfather,the woman’s voice from last night taunts me. It still annoys and amuses me in equal measure.
“Ernie!” Kylian exclaims, pushing me out of the doorway and heading to the side of the bed. “You been behaving?”
Ernest grins. “Where is the fun in that?”
“Good man,” Kylian says with a wink at me.
I sit down on the chair, letting the two catch up, trying not to make too big a show of looking Ernest over.
My old friend looks a bit better than when I saw him a few days ago—a little more color in his cheeks, his voice much stronger. The heart attack came out of nowhere, or so he says, but it looks like he’s going to recover just fine. And I’m hoping soon we’ll be back to our regular roles of mentor and mentee and less cardio-wing patient and hospital visitor.
