Page 162 of That Last Summer

“Hey, wait! How many of those did you have?” he asks me, pointing to the last of the beers sitting on the bar.

Oh, fuck.

“I don’t know.”

“Four,” Pedro says.

“Okay, I’ll drive.”

It looks like you’re leaving without me, pair of two, because I’m staying. Yup. No one will move me from here.

Pristy the Squirrel: The resistance.

So, you’re thinking of leaving without me again, huh?

Ipay for a bottle of water from the café outside the airport and say goodbye to Jaime with a big hug. He goes with me to the revolving doors that will begin this next journey, and we part with the promise—the certainty—we’ll see each other again soon. It’s just a matter of time; this isn’t a hard goodbye.

I feel my cell phone vibrating as I stow the water bottle, after taking a couple of sips, into the small blue and pink backpack I carry as hand luggage. As I dig the phone up from the bottom, I wonder why I didn’t buy some junk food for the plane—chocolate bars, or giant bags of chips of every color and flavor—since I’ve never liked the food they serve up on board. But then, my stomach is so tied up in knots I don’t think I’ll be able to eat anything the whole trip.

I glance at the screen: my brothers. I open our group chat and read their messages as I walk through the terminal. I already have my boarding pass; all I have to do is check in my bag and go through security.

River Phoenix:

Have a good trip, little Cabana

Hugoisthestar:

We love you. Don’t take so long to come back

Marco Polo:

You should’ve carried me in your suitcase

River Phoenix:

Bad day, Marc?

Marco Polo:

Worse. And I feel like it’s just the beginning. Alicia and her family hate me. They don’t want to see me at all.

Hugoisthestar:

It’s normal, it's very recent. They’ll soon forget about you, and you’ll get back to your life and your routine. Let time take its course.

Marco Polo:

I need one of you doing something extreme. Really scandalous. Something like River confessing he’s a spy and having an affair with the Queen of England, or maybe Hugo could have a fiery romance with a celebrity. A rock star or something.

River Phoenix:

The Queen of England is like a hundred years old, man.

Marco Polo:

Now you get picky, dude?

Hugoisthestar: