They did have to draw blood. But they had taped up pictures of exotic locals on the wall, right where a person would turn their head so they didn't have to look at the needle. That came in handy.
This move is rushing up faster and faster. It's closing like a vice around my lovely solitude. I was really hoping I'd be finished with my story before all the chaos, but I'm not sure if I will manage it or not.
This Friday we're driving down to Georgia for just two days, to find a house. We'll sign, drive home. The movers are already booked. I have to book some carpet cleaners and call the utilities.
I will do that today.
Exerpt:
When I turned back to Ceallach, there was no more boat. He stood alone, soaked to the waist, the heavy leather pack humped on his back, the entire Atlantic ocean spreading out behind him into haze.
We waded out, hand in hand, and then people noticed. I saw them turn and stare at the strange sight of two people, fully dressed and soaking wet, on a beautiful summer day at the beach.
The smell of the gasoline made me feel slightly nauseous. The air itself seemed too thick, heavy with vapors and scents. I caught a whiff of fried dough and hot dogs from the venders across the beach road and my stomach turned.
Ceallach was looking a bit pale, himself. We walked heavily through the sand, winding our way through beach towels and picnic blankets, trying not to step on people’s bare, upturned feet, or their discarded paperback books.
When we reached the road, Ceallach swung the pack down and leaned against the railing.
“Are you alright?” I asked him, nervously.
“Adjusting,” he said briefly. His eyes flickered over to mine, he gave a ghost of his usual smile.
“It’s awful! I never knew..."
“It’ll go away. It just takes a few days. In the meantime, we must find a payphone and call a cab.”
“We’re going to ride a taxi home?” I asked, blinking in surprise.
“How else did you think we’d get there?”
“Well, I don’t know. But…well, how are we going to pay?”
“I brought my wallet with me.”
“You did not.”
“What do you take me for, a rookie?”
“Where?”
He reached back, produced this previously unknown item from the back pocket of his soaking trousers. It was very thin and looked expensive.
“Goodness.” I took it. Inside were two credit cards and five hundred dollar bills, only slightly wet at the upper edges. “Well, aren’t we flush,” I said, handing it back.
He grinned, it made my stomach flip. “Those aren’t ill gotten gains, are they?” I asked, a bit suspicious.
“My dear child. Did you expect me to have lived in this world for two hundred years with nothing to show for it but a house? Or did you think that I went without electricity and cars because I couldn‘t afford them? I earned that, every penny.”
