you are. You’re free to do whatever you want, Camilla, I’m not your keeper or your mother.”
She winces at the mention of her mother, and I wonder if I’m not the only one with mommy issues.
“Two things: don’t go in my room and stay out of my way on the days that I work. There’s a lot we have to go over before you take your first appointment, but my clients are my number one priority. Respect my space, and we’ll be fine. If you disobey my requests, I’ll make sure Inez sends you packing.”
I miss Talent the most in the dark.
It’s worse once I turn the lights off and lay my head down—when my body and mind slow and my eyelids grow heavy. I yearn for him when the only sounds to accompany me are of my rhythmic breathing and the drum of my heart. The lullaby of my tired body pulls me to the edge of consciousness, but the ache of his absence lingers in the blurry space before sleep.
None of it makes sense.
What is there to miss?
Talent and I were nothing more than a miscommunication, some one-sided texts, and a few conversations that circled around anything too deep. But a week has passed since he left my apartment and I miss him.
As Camilla makes herself comfortable in her room, she saturates the area with her own scents and sounds. She likes Moroccan tapestry, scented candles, and she laughs too loud at the television she watches alone in her room. Inez has kept her busy most of the week, giving her a rundown on what happens behind the scenes before she learns hands-on with me.
So far, we’ve lived parallel lives within the same space, on the same track and heading in the same direction, but it’s impersonal and separate. We only cross paths when we’re coming and going, swapping courteous hellos and goodbyes. Dog spends his days with Camilla and nights with me, splitting time between us like a product of divorced parents.
Despite having a dog and a roommate, I am utterly alone.
Talent’s text messages may have been one-sided, but it was companionship I didn’t experience otherwise. Our conversation over coffee was tense, and I may have drunk too much at the bar and made a fool of myself, but it was human interaction outside of my normal routine. Talent was separate from Cara Smith and Hush—an indulgence of my own.
When he picked up his phone at the same time every night, it was my number he searched for. As he typed in the words meant for my eyes only, it was my face he imagined. And when I didn’t respond, he made the decision to try for my attention again the next night.
There’s not a single person in the world who knows what it’s like to sit across from me in a low-lit coffee shop besides Talent. He’s the only one who’s danced with me to live music. He knows my favorite Chinese food and wanted to share that meal with me.
On a grand scale, this might be trivial to someone with friends and family. But to a person who lives an existence as isolated as me—a girl who rarely hears my real name out loud, spends my time in solitude, and the only person I consider family sells my body for a profit—a single text message carries a lot of weight.
I miss him after a dreamless sleep, too.
When my mind rouses but my body needs to catch up, loneliness mopes in the paralyzed seconds before my eyes move behind my closed eyelids. Talent’s absence is tight between muscle and tendons until I point my toes and stretch my legs against my soft sheets. I miss Talent when I turn onto my back and blink against the dim light coming through my window as much as I miss him in the dark.
My first thoughts are of gray eyes, perfect lips, and the realization that I’ve sentenced myself to solitary confinement. Talent gave me a glimpse of life on the outside, and I turned him away, destined to live in this world alone.
But now I know what I’m missing.
I fuck five or six men a week, but I gravely underestimated the importance of genuine human interaction.
One person in this city knows my history.
Two know my real name.
Talent’s right. The only thing I need saving from is myself.
Thankfully, I’m able to turn the thundering loneliness inside of me down to a low hum during the day and carry on