“Fucking finally,” I said as I look out the window to see the ‘Welcome to New York’ sign crossing the bridge into the city. Even though its nearing 7 at night, the city lights are bright and illuminating the streets with it. It’s truly the city that never sleeps.
“The drive is nothing to joke about,” Hudson added as he drove the small car off of the bridge and onto a main street. “Do you need help bringing your stuff to your dorm room?”
“No, I’m good,” I quickly answered, trying to not sound like i was in a panic. Hudson doesn’t know that I actually live off-campus in a place in Brooklyn that cost half as less as sharing a dorm room with another college student. I take most of that tuition to pay rent at my actual place, and then the extra money is what I use to survive off of. Needless to say, it feels like I’m living in a dorm with the way I have to manage my money in order to eat dinner and shit every night. Hudson doesn’t add anything to the conversation; he nods his head and continues to look at the road ahead. A part of me hates lying to Hudson, but I also don’t like to follow anyone’s rules of life.
“Do you still talk to that guy from your Art History class?” Hudson randomly asked. I immediately knew who he was talk about and I grew annoyed. Why is Hudson bringing up that asshole?
“He was just a classmate,” I answered, downplaying my former friendship with Micah. “He just helped me get back on track when I was out.”
“I thought you two were friends,” Hudson recalled. “I mean, he came to the hospital a couple of times to see you and everything.” I looked at Hudson, feeling confused.
“I don’t remember that,” I said, looking back out towards the car window.
“Well I do,” Hudson emphasized. “I think anyone that saw you as a friend would’ve came to the hospital when you were hurt.”
“Yeah, well people do things just to say that they did it,” I spat back. “You, of all people, should know that, Detective.” Hudson just sighs, knowing to back out of an argument that he knows he won’t win in. He learned that the hard way one night searching the different areas of Downtown Philly, in hopes that we’d find his daughter living her life as a runaway teen. He insisted that she wouldn’t be the type to not come home, even if she was kidnapped all of those years ago. It was hard for him to convince me that anyone that had a home was smart enough to go back when they realized they cant live on their own like that. After taking him to a couple of popular areas for runaways, he finally understood there was more than what meets the eye about this life.
We finally arrive back to campus; I quickly take out my bags from the trunk of the car before Hudson gets out to help. Once Hudson gets out, all of my bags are out and surrounding me. I simply smile to act the part of the “college student living in college dorms” role.
“Thank you for the ride back to New York,” I thanked Hudson. “I would still be on that damn train ripping out my hair.”
“You know I’ll always be here to help you out,” Hudson reassured me. I just smiled as a response. “Call me tomorrow when you get yourself situated. Be safe, Rosie.” Hudson tussled my hair before he walked back to his car. As he kept looking back at me, I threw on a smile and waved ‘bye’ at him. He gave me one final look before starting up the car and driving off. My smile immediately vanishes. I take out my phone and make a phone call, putting on my most feminine-sounding voice.
…
Moments later, Prescott’s porsche pulls up in front of the college; I immediately smile and walk towards the car as he rolls down the window on the passenger’s side.
“Hey, babe,” I greeted Prescott.
“Hey,” Prescott said back, but was looking at the bags behind me. “Are all of those your bags?” I turned around to look at them.
“Yeah,” I said, turning back around towards the car window. “I’m back in New York for the semester.” Prescott looked annoyed, which made me feel defensive. “You knew i was coming back from Philly.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t realize you had so much shit with you,” Prescott pointed out. I rolled my eyes at his response.
“If they bother you, then just drive me back to my place and I can drop them off before we had to your place,” I suggested. Prescott instantly shot the idea down.
“I’m not going around that roach infested building,” Prescott shot down.
“You’re exaggerating,” I simply answered, knowing at this point that Prescott had opinions about my place in general. “It’s not that bad.”
“I’m not about to be followed by the media to a place with a girl that lives in a place like that,” Prescott emphasized, clearly annoyed with the situation. He sighed, before he opens the trunk of the car up. “Just put your shit in there.” I don’t say anything back to him. I walk back to my luggage and begin to put them in Prescott’s trunk one-by-one, without Prescott’s help.
I get into Prescott’s car before he drives off. The radio is low and the dashboard is completely lit. t reminds me of the city lights in a strange way.
“Happy to be back?” Prescott randomly asked me. I looked at him and nodded.
“Ecstatic,” I answered.
“A simple ‘yes, babe’ would’ve been fine,” Prescott stated as he shook his head displeased. “Did you enjoy your time back in Pittsburgh?”
“Philly,” I corrected him. “I’m from Philadelphia.”
“Same thing; they’re both in Pennsylvania,” Prescott emphasized.
“No, they aren’t,” I corrected. “Pittsburgh is literally across the fucking state–” At the red light, Prescott finally faces me.
“For fuck’s sake; can you drop it?” Prescott stated, mad now. “Like I’m trying to have a simple fucking conversation with you and you’re making it difficult.” I don’t say anything back; I actually felt bad He did ask you if you had a good time, which means he cares.
“I’m sorry,” I began to say. I sighed once the light turned green and Prescott had to look back toward the road. “Philly was good.” I look at Prescott, and to my surprise he flashes me a gentle smile as he drives.
“That’s good that you had a good time, ” Prescott began to say. “But I’m so glad that you’re back.” His words make me smile and feel warm inside. Maybe he’s finally trying to be good to me. Maybe he’s changed since I last saw him a month ago. Maybe he finally wants to be a real couple with me.
Well maybe people do things just to say that they did it. But his actions always spoke louder than his words.
Letters From Liz. 