Emotional Vacancy

@Martie_theMoose: Good gracious me…today is the day Columbia!

Landing in Columbia, I’d made three incredibly disturbing observances about myself.

Number one: I love airports more than any human being should. I don’t know if it’s the idea that it’s the portal between my life and adventure, but airports are my playgrounds—just ask anybody who followed my Instagram account this afternoon.

Number two: I have a weird fetish for take offs. I don’t know if it’s the rumble of the jets from the plane or if there’s something completely warped in my brain, but takeoff is quite possibly the happiest moment I could possibly have without getting undressed or touching myself inappropriately.

And number three: as fate would have it, I’m currently suffering through the start of my period. While we were flying over the middle of the Pacific Ocean, not only did I have the abdominal cramps that usually kicked off the festivities in my ovaries but also I was fighting the urge to open up the emergency door I was sitting next to and jump off the plane. And honestly, Mother Nature’s timing couldn’t be better. I mean, seriously, who needs to make up for a horrible first impression with this second impression anyway? Not me…

So as you could imagine, after that moment, I’d spent my entire flight buried under two blankets—the one I’d brought from home and one that I asked a flight attendant for, huddled in the fetal position in my seat.

After slipping into the airport bathroom to quickly freshen up and even change my clothes a bit (of course after picking up our checked luggage), we were currently getting a rundown of our agenda from Kevin, who seemed to not be able to stop talking since we landed.

“So, first we’re getting you guys to the hotel so you can get checked in and kind of unwind a bit. Then, by five o’clock you guys need to be leaving the hotel for a quick rehearsal at the venue, the guys will be there…”

My brain couldn’t process much else. I slipped my aviators over my face, placing a hand over my bloated stomach. This was going to be a long couple of days. Usually the first two days of my period are Hell to get through, but once I got through them, it’s like my body gets used to it and I feel somewhat normal.

It took us nearly an hour to get to the hotel, mainly due to a lot of traffic. But when we did, I couldn’t help but nudge Sage with my elbow. It was quite possibly the largest hotel I’d ever seen. Most of the building was mainly glass windows, but a section of it was just stone.

In awe, we didn’t immediately move out of the car when it came to a stop and one of the bellhops opened the door. We both, sat there, wondering when Kevin was going to tell us he was just kidding and drop us off at a dumpy hotel and leave us.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place Kevin?” Sage asked, nervously fingering the tips of her lavender hair. It was a new color for the new style she had going on. She’d kept the right side of her hair short and close to the scalp, but not a buzzcut, and then left side was long, flowing down her shoulder and in a cute lavender color.

“Oh come on guys, you’re on tour in Latin America with One Direction, we’re at the right place.”

“This is…are you sure we have enough to stay here?”

“Sage, I’d be glad to go over the logistics of how we book hotels while on tour, but this is not the time nor the place. We have reservations here, and as it stands, you have,” he checked his watch, “Two hours to get situated in your room before you have to be back here. I’m sure you’d appreciate a nap?”

“But I’m just—“

“Sage, let’s not argue with the man. I have a cramp the size of Mike Tyson’s fist and growing right now, I just want to go to my room, take some Midol and knock myself out for a bit,” I said, pushing her a bit so that she would get out of the car.

See, I’m a great person to have around while starting my period.

Rolling her eyes, but obliging, she slid out of the seat, dragging her messenger bag along with her. I gently slid out of the car, landing lightly on my feet, so as not to awaken the beast, currently punching my uterus into a steel drum.

Once we were finally checked in, Kevin handed us both keys that had room numbers.

“Again, I reiterate, you two need to be down here by five o’clock, no later or else you’ll risk being late and that’s not a great impression to make on a band you’re opening for.”

I took off to the right, heading towards the elevators. I’d make sure I was down in the lobby at five, but I didn’t want to stand and chat. There was a nice, fluffy hotel mattress with my name on it, just begging me to plop down on it.

As the elevator slowly pulled us up towards the top floor where we’d be staying, I saw Sage shake her head, smiling. “Can you believe this Martie? We’re in fucking Columbia. Columbia!”

That was enough to stop me. I had been so concerned about my time of the month that I hadn’t quite stopped to realize that we weren’t even on American soil anymore. We were in Columbia. And for the first time since we heard about going on tour, I could feel just how far away from home we really were. It didn’t make me sad, it just made this moment feel a bit heavier, a bit more important than it did an hour ago.

“And this is only the beginning,” I mumbled, looking at her, a warm smile spreading across my face. “This is going to be our lives for a whole year.”

That statement alone was easier said than imagined. We weren’t even a day through this new life and I was already marveled by it. Did it ever get old? Did someone ever get annoyed of traveling and living out of a suitcase? I couldn’t imagine that. All I could imagine was the collection of hotel pillows and card keys I’d make just from the Latin American tour dates alone.

I shook my head as we watched the numbers changed with each floor we passed until we finally hit the top floor. A soft, high-pitched ding resounded and we grabbed the handle of our suitcases, waited for the door to open before funneling out and into the hallway. We took a right since the signage indicated that the number of our rooms would be in that direction, and once we came to a halt, I saw that she was just across the hall and not beside me. That was odd.

“Do I need to drop by your room to wake you up?” I asked, thumbing my card.

“I’m probably not going to sleep…if I sleep now, I won’t wake up.”

She wasn’t lying about that little fact. It wasn’t hard to wake me up. Someone just shuffling through the room would wake me up, but Sage could sleep through anything. I’d seen her fall asleep in a movie theater during an action-oriented movie. So, when it came to alarms, it wasn’t that she wouldn’t wake up, she’d just turn over, turn it off and go back to sleep, whereas if I was awoken by an alarm, I’d just get up because it’d be useless to try and go back to sleep.

“I’ll be by your room ten minutes ‘til five. You better be dressed by then,” I warned before cracking what I hoped looked like an easy smile, but if I was honest with myself it probably looked more pained than anything.

Shuffling into my room, the door closing on my suitcase a couple of times, I straightened myself up and took in my surroundings. This was a nice room, and easily the most spacious hotel room I’d ever had the fortune of staying the night in. It was probably my lack of wanting to do much of anything except lay down, but I wasted no time in admiring the room. I fished out Midol from my large suitcase, took two tablets and set the alarm on my phone to go off around 4:15. Once I was sure everything was set, I collapsed onto the bed. Usually, it took my brain all of fifteen minutes to unload before I finally could go to sleep but the second my head connected with that sinfully fluffy pillow I was out.

And by the time my phone began to go off, Coheed and Cambria’s The Suffering was blaring loudly in my right ear. Slowly, I sat up, grabbing my phone and turning the alarm off. I quickly assessed how I was feeling. I was still feeling a bit sluggish due to what I assumed was jet lag, my mouth felt a tad dry and I definitely had imprints of the sheets on the right side of my face. But most importantly, I wasn’t cramping, and that was something worth celebrating. Continuing to hum to myself, I grabbed a change of clothes and took a quick shower for the purpose of getting rid of that plane smell.

By the time I was finished, I rushed to get dressed into my comfy pair of black skinny jeans and a highly relaxed blue v-neck. As I was braiding my hair, I stopped humming, figuring the day I conquer multitasking would not be this day. But upon my stopping, I heard muffled humming, deep, warm humming. It made me stop for a moment. The walls weren’t paper-thin, they couldn’t be. I looked into my room, but of course nobody was there. I was the only person in here. I checked my phone and my music app wasn’t open. So it definitely wasn’t that either, although let’s be serious: what was the likelihood that it was?

About a minute after I noticed the humming, it changed into full on singing. That’s when I could definitely hear it. It was coming from the left of me, where what I thought was a wall, but now I could see was a door. I was confused. Why is there a door in the bathroom, other than the door that connected the bedroom area? I was highly confused. Maybe they had a closet just for towels and sheets. Maybe this would be an empty room. Maybe I have no idea what the hell I’m talking about, but either way curiosity got the better of me as the singing became louder and I moved towards the door. I was creeping towards it more or less and I was trying not to make too much noise. When I was arms-length away, I placed my hand on the doorknob, slowly turning and I took one more moment to consider what could be on the other side of this door. It really could be anything. It could be the nightingale killer, the notorious mass murderer who lures his victims in by singing. I don’t think that’s really a thing, but it’s not like it isn’t possible—I don’t watch Discovery ID.

Once I decided I just had to know, I began to pull but the door flew back and hit me in the face, knocking me back a bit.

“Shit, are you okay?” I heard a slow, very deep, male voice ask me. I instantly felt hands on me, two of them to be exact, as they braced me.

I opened my eyes a moment and found myself staring into two extremely green eyes.

“Harry you alright?” I heard someone shout from deeper in the guy’s room.

“Man, I’m fine, but I don’t think she’s okay,” he answered. “Martie, are you okay?”

He knows my name?

I looked at him confused for a moment and surveyed his features. Curly brown hair, green eyes that were literally staring through to my soul and a defined jaw line.

Shit.

“Harmy?” I stuttered out, but of course I’d get the name out wrong. “I-I mean Harry.”

He gave out a deep laugh, pulling me closer to him, “No, you’re fine love, just steady yourself for a second, let me get some help.” I nodded my head in response before he turned his head and called out to Louis. “Come help me!”

I heard a soft groan, “Mate, I’m not helping you shave. I told you we had to stop that when you moved out of my flat.”

By the time he finished his sentence, he’d rolled up on the scene, staring wildly between the two of us. “What the bloody hell have you gone and done Harry?”

“I kind of hit her with the door, but that’s not important, I need your help getting her to the room so that she can sit down and reorient herself.”

“You’re putting a lot of weight on the idea that you had the strength to knock me out with that door.”

He laughed again, and this time I could feel it since my hand was on his chest, trying to keep my balance, as I was about to slip on water from my shower.

“Burn! And she’s the one that took the brunt of you swinging the door, mate.”

“Louis,” he said, slightly exasperated.

With the help of Louis and Harry, I was walked into Harry’s room and sat on the bed that already looked slept in. Upon sitting, Harry picked up his phone and began texting someone. I have no idea nor was I completely interested in who he was texting at this point, but I closed my eyes for a moment and reopened them just in time to watch him set the phone down on the desk and walk towards me, kneeling in between my legs.

He gave me an apologetic smile, and came closer to look at my face.

“God, I was worried I blew your face out or something like it,” he said, touching my cheek.

I winced slightly, moving out of his reach, which was kind of hard seeing as the man has the wingspan of a commercial jet.

“Sorry, is it still sore?”

I nodded, “A bit. I have some aspirin in my room, I’ll just take a couple before I head to the venue.” I didn’t want the guy to feel bad, especially since I couldn’t get our first meeting out of my head. I couldn’t stop replaying me singing “I Knew You Were Trouble” at the top of my lungs in his face…well that, and…

“We have go to get a handle on how we meet,” he said, laughing a bit.

“You’re telling me…”

“I mean, I hit you in the face with a door, you face plant straight into my crotch—we’re an absolute mess.”

Now my face grew hot and not just in the place where I was hit with a door. I averted my gaze away from Harry and looked at the wall straight ahead, the flat screen television actually on and playing some game show.

“I agree 100 percent,” Louis interjected from his place against the wall going towards the door.

“Louie,” Harry warned.

I gave out a laugh. Did it sound like a laugh? I certainly hoped it did. “No, he’s only being honest. I do have to say though, I’ve never had this good of a track record on embarrassing myself in front of people I just met.”

And that’s about as truthful as a statement to get. Meeting new people wasn’t usually this eventful. It was a simple introduction, get to know you questionnaire orally given of course, and then sooner or later you swap numbers to meet up again. I chalk up a lot of the first meeting to me not expecting to meet them that night. I was under the impression that One Direction would appreciate basking in their success for the night and want to party with people they knew, but low-and-behold, they actually wanted to meet the girls they’d slotted as their opening act for an entire year—which is totally fair, I just wish they hadn’t done it on a night that I had downed a Bacardi 151 shot, an unidentifiable rum shot and shotgunned a whiskey coke drink.

“Could’ve fooled us,” Louis joked and then smiled, “at least we’re even now.”

I nodded, a throbbing beginning to start in my right cheek.

“Well, I’m going to go try and wake Zayn up so he doesn’t get left behind and we don’t have to hear him whinge again,” Louis began walking towards the door, “with the natural progression of all this, don’t go and stab Harry in the thigh while I’m gone.”

Harry gave a humorless, and somewhat sarcastic laugh as Louis left, and soon, we were alone in this slightly too-small cocoon of silence.

“Do you need some ice? I just got some delivered by room service, so I can wrap it in a towel if need be,” he said, pointing to the big cylinder sitting on his desk.

I shook my head, “Seriously, I’ll be good. I’m only worried about bruising right now. I feel like once the swelling goes down I’m going to have a shiner.”

Harry nodded, biting his lip slightly, “Again, I’m really sorry about that. Not to mention everyone’s going to have a field day asking you where you got it.”

“I got it in a motorcycle gang fight. If they think this is bad, they should see the other girl.”

A deep, throaty laugh filled the room and it made me smile. He nodded his head as he tried to regain his normal breathing pattern, “That’s our story and we’re sticking to it yes?”

“Yes,” I grinned back. It kind of hurt to move my face like that, but I didn’t care. I watched as he laughed again and part of me kind of wished I could make this conversation a little longer. It was something about his laugh that was a tad addicting to hear. I don’t know if it’s because it made him sound younger than he really was or that it was just so diametrically opposed to the sex appeal that always got associated with him, but I wanted to hear more of it, and I’d just watched several stand up specials just a few days ago, I would be able to keep him laughing at least for the next thirty minutes.

That’s when it set in. I needed to be downstairs soon, didn’t I? “Um, Harry, what time is it?”

“A quarter ‘til.”

“A what?”

“A quarter ‘til,” he repeated, this time much slower.

I gave him a blank look, hoping he could just give me a normal time instead of giving me quarters and change and stuff.

“It’s 4:45, 4:46 to be exact since we wasted a minute because you don’t know how to count time.”

I rolled my eyes, standing up, “Whatever, I need to finish getting ready. I guess I’ll being seeing you at the venue.”

I didn’t really wait for him to say something back because I knew that if I stayed there and waited, not only would I have to wait for him to be finished which would take some time, but I’d also want to say something back to him. But it didn’t matter if I was already halfway towards the bathroom door; he said something anyway.

“The answer is yes,” he said, nodding at me.

I took a moment to try and process what he said. Then I took several moments trying to remember if I’d asked him a yes or no question at all during this conversation. I turned around, my eyebrows furrowed and my head tilted to the left.

“The answer to your question.”

“I didn’t ask a question.”

“You’ll remember it, probably not right this second, but you will.”

I gave him a weird look. “Harry?”

“Hm?” he hummed back.

“You’re about the weirdest person I’ve met.”