Running To Stand Still
Lover I Don’t Have To Love
Cold droplets of water echoed throughout the dank hallway. This part of the school was never very dry. I looked at my phone. Three seventeen. Pete was supposed to meet me here in this dim alley almost thirty minutes ago. If I don’t leave now, I’ll miss the flight. If I don’t leave now, I will miss out on my life. For the past twenty-two years, I’ve lived in this town. I’ve died in this town, in the figurative sense. Pete and I were supposed to run away from the dead ends and the dull people. I let my rose, the rose that was for Pete, fall to the ground. And then I was gone.
I hate airports. They’re either filled with people committed to cause problems for the families or mind-numbingly cheery folks about to vacation to Alton, Indiana. And somehow, airports are a magnetic to the most physically grotesque and emotionally stunted of the world. Still, sitting in the unfavorable plastic chairs alone with my cynicism, I had a slight glimmer of hope that Pete would walk through the hoards of people and apologize, and then the world would once again be okay for me. Somewhere, deep in my subconscious, I knew this wouldn’t ever happen, save in the movies or romance novels.
“Hey, I’m really sorry to bother you, but do you have an extra ticket? My friend just abandoned me and they had my ticket. I’ll pay you twice what the airport charges, I just need to get out of this town.” A man with a vaguely Scottish accent asked. I looked up at him. He had shaggy chestnut hair and a grin ten miles wide. His grey eyes radiated with honesty and an almost naïve trust in people. I gather the last semblance of logic and replied.
“Just take it. I’d rather it go to use, you don’t have to pay me.”
“Well that hardly seems fair. There must be something I could do for you. How about when we land, I’ll buy you dinner.”
“Alright, fine. You have to pick the place though, I’m god awful at choosing.” As I handed the man my extra ticket, I caught myself really smiling for the first time in long while.
“I’m Adrien.”
“Arienette”
“Well, Arienette, I thank you for all you’ve just done for me. You can’t tell yet, but you’ve made my life a whole lot different.”
~Beauty~Truth~Freedom~Love~
“Here” Adrien said, offering me a piece of bubble gum.
“Thanks” I replied, finally able to make my ears pop.
“So… dinner. I’m supposed to choose. Café Rouge?”
“Um… Sure. I’ve never been there.”
The microcosm of a restaurant was a modern style design, with orange colored lights and vinyl covered booths. Adrien sat on one side of a booth, and I across from him.
“So, Arienette, what brings you to London?”
“That’s a long story about a pathetic person.”
“Well I don’t have anywhere to be, and I like stories about pathetic people. My favorite movie is Grandma’s Boy”
“Hah, okay. Well it started with this stupid guy. I thought I he loved and I thought I loved him. All our lives, we’d lived in this stupid town. I’d always wanted to leave. So after we graduated my tentative boyfriend, though he’d never admit that he’d agreed to go steady, we made a plan to go to London. Being the naïve, romantic comedy enthusiast I was, I fell for it. I waited for him, but he never showed. So I went to the airport myself and, well, here I am.”
“So have you even been to London?”
“Nope.”
“So if you’re moving here, where are all your things?”
“The clothes I really wanted are in my carry-on and I sold everything else. I have enough money to buy new furniture and clothes for me, and then to last a month so I can find a job.”
“So do you have a way of getting furniture to your new place?”
“I was thinking of just cab-ing it. I don’t have a car yet.”
“No, no, no. I have a truck. I’ll take you. If that’s not too awkward or anything.”
“I don’t know. How can I be sure you’re not a sociopathic psycho-killer?”
“I assure you, I’m not.”
“Isn’t that what a killer would say?” I grinned, feeling a bit playful.
~Beauty~Truth~Freedom~Love~
Adrien told me had walked me back to my new apartment. I picked up my key at the front desk. My new place was on the second floor. The interior of the building was carpeted in a deep red. The wallpaper was bubbling slightly from years of weather and people. I pushed the gold key into door handle and twisted. The door creaked open. Inside, the floors were a gorgeous matte mahogany. On the far wall was a small French style terrace. Lacey curtains lined the two windows on either side of the terrace. Down a narrow hallway was the main bedroom. I opened the small wooden door. Inside the room were the same wooden floors and a thin window that opened outwardly. Setting down my bag, I unpacked my thin white blanket and pillows. Out of my pocket, I pulled the slip of paper with Adrien’s number on it. I smiled a bit and looked out the window in to the colorful light of the city. I’m beginning to love London.
I hate airports. They’re either filled with people committed to cause problems for the families or mind-numbingly cheery folks about to vacation to Alton, Indiana. And somehow, airports are a magnetic to the most physically grotesque and emotionally stunted of the world. Still, sitting in the unfavorable plastic chairs alone with my cynicism, I had a slight glimmer of hope that Pete would walk through the hoards of people and apologize, and then the world would once again be okay for me. Somewhere, deep in my subconscious, I knew this wouldn’t ever happen, save in the movies or romance novels.
“Hey, I’m really sorry to bother you, but do you have an extra ticket? My friend just abandoned me and they had my ticket. I’ll pay you twice what the airport charges, I just need to get out of this town.” A man with a vaguely Scottish accent asked. I looked up at him. He had shaggy chestnut hair and a grin ten miles wide. His grey eyes radiated with honesty and an almost naïve trust in people. I gather the last semblance of logic and replied.
“Just take it. I’d rather it go to use, you don’t have to pay me.”
“Well that hardly seems fair. There must be something I could do for you. How about when we land, I’ll buy you dinner.”
“Alright, fine. You have to pick the place though, I’m god awful at choosing.” As I handed the man my extra ticket, I caught myself really smiling for the first time in long while.
“I’m Adrien.”
“Arienette”
“Well, Arienette, I thank you for all you’ve just done for me. You can’t tell yet, but you’ve made my life a whole lot different.”
~Beauty~Truth~Freedom~Love~
“Here” Adrien said, offering me a piece of bubble gum.
“Thanks” I replied, finally able to make my ears pop.
“So… dinner. I’m supposed to choose. Café Rouge?”
“Um… Sure. I’ve never been there.”
The microcosm of a restaurant was a modern style design, with orange colored lights and vinyl covered booths. Adrien sat on one side of a booth, and I across from him.
“So, Arienette, what brings you to London?”
“That’s a long story about a pathetic person.”
“Well I don’t have anywhere to be, and I like stories about pathetic people. My favorite movie is Grandma’s Boy”
“Hah, okay. Well it started with this stupid guy. I thought I he loved and I thought I loved him. All our lives, we’d lived in this stupid town. I’d always wanted to leave. So after we graduated my tentative boyfriend, though he’d never admit that he’d agreed to go steady, we made a plan to go to London. Being the naïve, romantic comedy enthusiast I was, I fell for it. I waited for him, but he never showed. So I went to the airport myself and, well, here I am.”
“So have you even been to London?”
“Nope.”
“So if you’re moving here, where are all your things?”
“The clothes I really wanted are in my carry-on and I sold everything else. I have enough money to buy new furniture and clothes for me, and then to last a month so I can find a job.”
“So do you have a way of getting furniture to your new place?”
“I was thinking of just cab-ing it. I don’t have a car yet.”
“No, no, no. I have a truck. I’ll take you. If that’s not too awkward or anything.”
“I don’t know. How can I be sure you’re not a sociopathic psycho-killer?”
“I assure you, I’m not.”
“Isn’t that what a killer would say?” I grinned, feeling a bit playful.
~Beauty~Truth~Freedom~Love~
Adrien told me had walked me back to my new apartment. I picked up my key at the front desk. My new place was on the second floor. The interior of the building was carpeted in a deep red. The wallpaper was bubbling slightly from years of weather and people. I pushed the gold key into door handle and twisted. The door creaked open. Inside, the floors were a gorgeous matte mahogany. On the far wall was a small French style terrace. Lacey curtains lined the two windows on either side of the terrace. Down a narrow hallway was the main bedroom. I opened the small wooden door. Inside the room were the same wooden floors and a thin window that opened outwardly. Setting down my bag, I unpacked my thin white blanket and pillows. Out of my pocket, I pulled the slip of paper with Adrien’s number on it. I smiled a bit and looked out the window in to the colorful light of the city. I’m beginning to love London.