And I Would Walk Five-Hundred Miles

I ran through the streets of London, trying to escape the inevitable.

I don’t know how late I was out there, running around, surely past 3am. It doesn’t really matter that much, but what does matter is the fact that Micah didn’t come for me, contrary to any delusion I might have had in my mind.

He didn’t come. He didn’t call. He left me alone.

Miraculously, I had my spare key for my house in my bag, so I let myself in. Thankfully, Micah wasn’t home because I wasn’t sure what on earth I would have said if he had been.

I took a shower and jumped into bed, trying with all my might not to think the thoughts eating away at my soul.

But unfortunately, I did think. I thought way too much…

I thought about how one day I was mad for Micah, and then next day I was lusting after Dan.

I was angry because I felt like I couldn’t make up my damn mind about which guy I wanted.

Why did I have to have that damn dream that affected in my mind my perception of who was right for me?

Why did I let a ruddy dream get to me so much? I mean, it was just a stupid dream! If my dreams told me to go mutilate platypuses or jump off the London eye, would I go do that?

Of course not.

So why in the world would I let this dumb dream affect my perception on what I wanted?

I must be some sort of indecisive idiot, right?

Right.

I wanted to scream, and I did (right into my pillow, though).

Micah and I had that loving tie I had always craved. We had a bond that clung on the fact that we were pretty affectionate with each other, and we loved each other. He had seen me through a huge chunk of my life. He had seen me through all of my awkward phases. He had seen me through my first and only boyfriend. He knew my likes and dislikes, and he knew how to put a smile on my face. I had wanted Micah for years now. I just wanted to wrap my arms around him and know he’d do the same because we were in love, and no one could tell us otherwise. I wanted him to kiss me and send my heart racing a mile a minute. I had pictured in my mind us kissing, and my arms would fit perfectly around his neck and his around my waist. We would have this passion that couldn’t be extinguished, no matter what, and I was his unintended, but I was also his soul mate.

Dan and I, on the other hand, had the passion I craved but never received. He flirted with me and kissed me, and he could be playing me the fool, but it really didn’t matter to me. I felt that fire that I had wanted from Micah for so long. Dan was confident, but he also displayed nervousness every so often. And that kiss was mind boggling. Thinking about it gave me willies and made my stomach turn.

I didn’t understand why Micah and my kiss didn’t have fire. The only idea that I could come up with was that my kissing Dan right before affected it completely, and had that kiss been at another moment before the dream, it would have been amazing.

At least I think it would be…?

Right?

***

I rolled onto my back for what seemed like the umpteenth time. The light faintly shone from my window, but I chose to ignore it. I had been awake for a while now, but every so often, I would drift in and out of sleep. Seeing that the slumber wasn’t going to drift over again any time soon, and the fact that my stomach was singing a symphony, I got up and made my way to the living room.

When I got in, I noticed instantly that Micah was not there. What was on his bed was a note that simply read, “Out. –Micah.” I glanced at the clock to see that it was ten past 3pm. I wondered where Micah could have possible gone to, but my stomach reminded me that it could only work off of stored fat for so long, so I sat down munching on some cereal, which I don’t usually eat, but strange days call for strange food.

I decided to work on my play for Holloway, and before I knew it, it was 9 o’clock and still no sign of Micah.

I called his mobile, but he didn’t pick up. I waited another half hour, nervously writing my play. I called his mobile again, but he didn’t pick up that time either. At around ten o’clock, I gathered my mobile and wallet, stuffed them into my purse, and walked out of the flat looking like crap with no makeup and old clothes on. I went to internet cafes, restaurants, stores, and it wasn’t until 11:47 p.m. that I found him in some grimy, little pub on the Thames. He was nearly falling out of his stool when I went to the bar.

“Micah, are you okay?” I yelped.

“Liya, is tha you?” he slurred.

“Yes, Micah, it’s me, Lydia.”

He smiled drunkenly and threw his arms around me, squeezing me too tightly.

“How much have you had to drink, Micah?”

He just smiled and squeezed me even tighter, and I felt pain around my waist where his arms were glued.

“Micah, how much have you had to drink?”

He shrugged and sloppily rocked me back and forth.

I caught the attention of the bartender and his reply terrified me.

“Two pints and two shots of tequila.”

“What? And you didn’t cut him off? You could have killed him!”

“Well, if he’s willing to pay for it-”

“Micah, we are going home now.”

“Buh I wan another sha.”

“No more; we’re going back to the flat.”

I tugged my body back so that he would get up, but instead, he fell off, dragging me down with him.

“You smell good,” he commented, still holding on.

“Micah, we have to get up.”

“But I want to stay here!” he pouted.

I finally pulled myself free and, after much difficulty, yanked him up. I dragged him outside and hailed a taxi to take us home. Then I remembered the premier. I frantically dialed Dan’s mobile.

“Hullo?” Dan’s voice came, somewhat loudly.

“Daniel, it’s Lydia. I’m so terribly sorry about not coming. Micah disappeared on me, and I lost track of time writing. Then I tried to go out and find him because I was scared he was hurt. Please forgive me. I’ll make it up to you when I can.”

“It’s okay,” he said, but his tone said otherwise. “Is Micah okay?”

I looked over at him and saw he was dazed.

“He’s fine.” The lie rolled off my tongue. “But I’m going to stay with him for a while.”

“Oh good,” he paused and after a while quietly said, “I’m sorry about yesterday. I-I saw that you two…kissed, and then you ran away. I know I’m the cause of it. I’m so sorry about it. I don’t want to be the reason that you don’t have the man of your dreams. I think it’s best if we… were mates. I don’t want to be the cause of more suffering on your part. I know how much you l-love him.”

I was shocked and choked out an, “Oh. Well, take care then. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Lydia,” he barely whispered. Then he hung up.

I was surprised by the tears that welled up in my eyes. Now, even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to go for Dan because he saw what had happened. One tear fell, and Micah caught it.
“Why are you cryin?” he asked, but he didn’t wait for a reply. He took my chin in his hand and he kissed the tear away, and out of nowhere, a shiver ran through my body.

A shiver….

He caught it.

“You cold?”

“No, I’m-” he didn’t wait for a reply, but instead threw the track jacket he had on around my shoulders. Then he wrapped his arm rather sloppily around me, but he pulled me close. My stomach turned, but it wasn’t the smell of alcohol in his breath that did it. As the taxi bumped along, the slight friction of our bodies reminded me that this was all I had ever wanted.

No, not having to drag his drunken bum from the bar but being close.

But one thing puzzled me.

Why was I feeling the connection now?

*

Eventually we arrived at the flat building, and we slowly made our way up the elevator and to the flat itself. When we entered, Micah went straight to the bathroom to spill the contents of his stomach into my toilet. I sighed and went to make myself a grilled cheese sandwich. I was ravenous, seeing as how I hadn’t eaten anything but cereal. I figured this genius would drink on an empty stomach so I made him one too.

“Lydia?” I heard him call frantically, and I pulled his sandwich off the skillet and ran to the bathroom, almost tripping, and found him looking around the bathroom with a terrified look on his face. When he finally caught sight of me he calmed down and… started crying?

“Oh my God,” he groaned. I stared at him with wide eyes, and he looked back into the toilet and heaved acid into the bowl. He sobbed, “Don’t ever do that again! I thought you had left me again.”

“But Micah-”

He shook his head and beckoned me forward with a sloppy wave. I double checked that there was not any vomit on the floor and sat down next to him. He got some toilet paper, wiped his mouth, threw the paper in the toilet, and then pulled me onto his lap and into a hug, though not as forceful as the one in the pub. He gently stroked my face, and I looked up into those black orbs, tears swelled in them and splattered onto my face. He rocked us back and forth, eyes closed but tears still streaming down from them. His arms felt shaky around me, and with each sob, a tremor went throughout my body. He reeked of alcohol and vomit, but I pushed that aside as he stroked my hair and face.

After a few minutes, he repeated in a barely audible whisper, “Do not ever do that to me again, Lydia.” I nodded, feeling even more terrible about the incident than I already did. He reached up and wiped the tears from his face, and I carefully stood up. I moved out of his way as he brushed his teeth and rinsed several times. Once he was done, he gratefully took my outstretched hand and let me slowly guide him to the living room. He massaged my thumb with his. Once I sat him down, I got my sandwich, cut it into four little squares, and sat down next to him. He rested his head on my lap, and as I ate, I absentmindedly stroked his dark, wavy hair. It wasn’t long before Micah timidly asked if he could have a bite of my sandwich. I obliged and propped him up on the arm of the couch. We took turns taking bites, and when I pulled out the second sandwich, a smile came to his face. He happily munched on it with me, making sure I was eating just as much as he was, because surprisingly enough, Micah still tried to be a gentleman when he was semi- drunk. When I went to go wash the plates, he watched me with an intent gaze, as to make sure I wouldn’t try to escape again.

Finally, after he had taken a shower, stripped down to his boxers, and I had changed into lounge pants and a t-shirt, I tucked him into the covers. I was about to leave when he started to yelp, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to my room Micah. If you need anything I’m just-”

“Don’t leave me!” he frantically said, tears threatening to grace his beautiful face again.

Beautiful?

Hm…..

“Micah, I’m not leaving you. I’m going to go to my room to sleep.”

“But how do I know you won’t get up and leave me again? Please, Lydia, don’t go.”

I stood there and contemplated what I should do. I knew that I shouldn’t give into those theatrics, but his pout made me go weak in the knees. I sighed and pulled the sheets over my body as I crawled into bed with him, not fully understanding why I was doing what I was doing, and with every movement I made, I was in deeper confusion.

He sighed in relief and very carefully wrapped his arms around my body. He didn’t pull me close, but he let his fingers gently graze the exposed skin between the top of my pants and the bottom of my shirt. It sent shivers down my spine, but I forced myself to blow it off.

Eventually I sank into a deep slumber, but not before I turned around, slid closer to Micah’s motionless body, and wrapped my arms delicately around him. I don’t know why I did that. It just felt right.

***

The ringing of the alarm on my phone reminded me that today was the day we’d leave on our trip. I got out of bed, untangling myself from the sheets and Micah’s arms. After getting dressed and packing the bags, Micah stirred. When he finally spoke, he said, “I got really wasted, didn’t I?” I nodded and sat back down next to him.

“Do you want me to leave?”

I shook my head, still gazing into his bloodshot eyes. He pointed to the suitcases and I simply replied, “Mystery trip.” He groaned, got a change of clothes to wear, and fifteen minutes later, we were out of the house rolling suitcases to the train station. We didn’t speak to each other until we were on the train about an hour later.

“I’m hungry, and my head is throbbing,” he said shyly.

I got up and he looked at me oddly.

“I’m going to the food cart to get something to eat and drink. I have headache medicine, but I don’t want you to take it dry. I’ll be right back.” With that, I walked over to the food cart and waited for about fifteen minutes until I came back, croissants, water bottles, and coffee in tow.

“I was starting to get worried about you,” he said quietly when I came back.

“No, they usually take forever to serve people.” I handed him the water bottle and fished the headache medication out of my bag.

“Thanks.”

“You’re very welcome.”

I sipped my coffee quietly and picked at my croissant. I could not shake the tension in the cart. Suddenly Micah spoke.

“Lydia, why did you run away the other day?”

“I should be asking you the same thing, shouldn’t I?”

“Lydia, I did that-”

“To prove a point? Well, you scared the living shit out of me.”

“And what do you think you did to me was? Did you think that was the appropriate reaction to getting kissed by me?”

“Micah-”

“Micah what? Lydia, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Well, if you would let me talk, then maybe you would realize I do!”

Or at least, I thought I did….

There was a long pause. I furiously ripped at my croissant and downed my coffee. It burned my entire mouth and throat. I winced and tears welled in my eyes from the pain.

“You have no idea…” he muttered.

I chose to ignore him and continued eating. Once I was done, I pulled out a book. I read and read, trying to avoid his eyes at all cost. Eventually the train gradually slowed to a stop, and we were greeted by the sight of a grimy little platform. Micah and I got our luggage, got out our passports and walked over to get them stamped. We met a tour guide with some other American tourists at the station and as we got onto the bus, I tripped. Micah gave me a look.

“What?” I said feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Nothing. That shirt looks nice on you.”

I looked down at the flowing green, grey, and white shirt. I muttered thanks and sat down next to him.

From the front of the bus, the tour guide gave a rehearsed smile and said through her thick accent, “Welcome to Paris!”