Authors: Romi Moondi
Year of the Chick (34 page)
“On the fifteenth floor of a hotel in New York you mean?”
I laughed out loud and pushed him playfully. He stood there smiling.
“You know what I mean.”
He looked at his watch again.
“Time is not ours anymore, I had better go. Sorry.”
“Do you want me to walk you to the elevator?” I asked, as we made our way back to my room.
“If you walk me to the elevator, I’ll have to walk you back to your room. Because I’m not going to leave until I walk you to your room. And then we’ll play this game all night.” He kissed my forehead.
“But I like this game. It’s the game where you never leave.” I smiled and shrugged my shoulders innocently.
“Goodbye Roms,” he said, his blue eyes working their magic.
“It’s Romes,” I said smiling.
“I know.” He returned the smile.
“Bye James.”
He kissed me lightly on the cheek and walked up the hallway towards the elevators, before turning one last time for a smile.
“Barcelona is just a flight away!” he called out.
I could only stand and stare, happy for how far we’d come today, but my heart being crushed by the sight of him leaving.
I died a little as one of the elevators opened. He waved and mouthed the words “See you soon!”
And then he was gone.
I knocked on the door and Laura opened it to find me sobbing.
Well that was inevitable.
She led me inside and sat me on my bed.
“You can be sad if you want,” she said. “But what I really want to know is…did he kiss you?”
Laura: my friend, my kindred spirit, the girl who always knows just the right thing to say...
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I groaned and turned to face the clock.
Noon.
And I was still exhausted.
Laura and I had stayed up ‘till three a.m. talking. And eating of course. My stomach grumbled in displeasure.
I remembered drifting off last night, entirely convinced that my dreams would be consumed by James. It was the only response to having spent so much time with him.
Instead I had a dream that I was captured by a three-eyed demon, and hung from a tree until feasting time. It was something out of “Lord of the Rings”, but at least I woke up before being devoured limb by limb.
Romantic.
“Good morning sunshine.” Laura smiled and stared at me from her bed.
I yawned. “Good morning back.”
“So how are you feeling?”
“Well, James is not on the continent anymore so my life is basically screwed. I feel great!” I laughed.
“But it’s our last full day in New York. What do you wanna do?”
Intelligent Laura, always knowing when to change the subject.
I’d forgotten I still had a whole entire day in New York City. Maybe it was just what I needed. “How about this,” I said. “Sleep for another couple hours, go out to eat, go shopping, a nice big dinner…”
“And a fancy dessert with whipped cream?” she asked.
“Sure, why not? After last night my diet’s shot anyway.”
She laughed. “Great! So let’s get ourselves that sleep then.” She yawned. “Good night.”
“Good night my friend. I’m gonna buy you a car, you know. ‘Cause you’re awesome.” I mumbled something else that was inaudible, and drifted right back to sleep…
***
“But you said I could have the window seat!” The child started screaming and wouldn’t stop, not until his mother made his older sister switch. The girl was only seven or eight, but her face looked like a wrinkled old man when it contorted into screaming position, missing teeth and all.
I felt a little bad for the mother, but I also wanted to smack her little brats in the teeth.
Will I ever grow maternal instincts?
“Don’t worry,” whispered Laura. “The flight is only an hour and a half.”
Thank god.
I put on my seatbelt as we readied for take-off.
“So Romes, what happens next in your life?”
I smiled. “Is it bad that I have no fucking clue?”
She laughed. “I think that’s kind of the point. You’re finally living in the moment.” She paused. “You never heard back from Arjun again, right?”
“Not since those last few texts from a couple weeks ago. And he never wrote back to my final three-word message. He must’ve known I was a bad investment. And he’s probably better off.” I smiled.
“And what about James? Do you think you’ll just go back to e-mails and chats at the bookstore?”
That was the part I had tried not to think about. “Well…that’s my prediction. But I’m not going to push it any further just yet. Maybe next year I’ll tell my parents there’s a trade show in Barcelona.”
We both laughed.
As the plane turned to face the runway, I chewed on my gum a little harder.
Please don’t pop, damn ears.
Laura however was completely unaffected by the oncoming takeoff. Instead she was busy browsing pictures on my camera.
I couldn’t help but look at them too. James and I on a date in Central Park.
Totally bittersweet.
A few moments later Laura switched off the camera and smiled. “Man, what would your parents think if they saw into your crazy little life?”
“I really don’t know. But at least I can keep on living this crazy little life…for one more year, anyway. Let’s see what next year brings!”
We smiled at each other and at last the plane took off.
Back to Toronto, back to all my secrets…
***
I stepped inside and dropped my bags to the floor. My cat Tommy came to greet me first, so I picked him up and squeezed him tightly as he purred.
The light was on in the nearby study, with the noticeable sound of papers rustling.
As I took off my coat my dad poked his head out and smiled. “Welcome back. Did you have a good trip?”
Yeah, it was okay.”
More than okay.
“Good. Well go unpack, have some tea, and when you have a little time come and see me in the study.”
Huh?
“For what?”
“Do you remember Auntie Gurmeet in Vancouver?”
I slowly nodded.
“She knows an unmarried lawyer, which is so hard to find! She e-mailed me his picture, very nice boy.” He paused. “Do you want to see his picture now? I can show you.”
I was suddenly frozen, in a macabre tableau of my worst possible nightmare. The only thing missing was a set of dead twin girls.
I am so fucking screwed…
The End
(until book 2 ...)
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
Dearest Reader,
Thank you for reading “Year of the Chick,” I hope you enjoyed it and had some laughs. This book was inspired by a blog of the same name I wrote in 2008. It’s a fictional tale, but it’s amazing how the elements of reality can trickle their way into fiction (especially the embarrassing ones).
I would normally take this time to tell you what I’m working on next, but that “next project” is already available now, in the form of a “Year of the Chick” sequel!
I wrote the sequel two years after writing book one, and I’d like to think my writing has improved in that time, as well as my ability to be romantic (yes, there is a lot more romance in book two, but I still tried to keep my style of humor!). And so, whether you loved “Year of the Chick” or were barely lukewarm towards the story, I hope you’ll give the sequel a try.
To help begin your journey with the sequel, I’ve included Chapter One of “Last-Minute Love” below.
Overall, thank you to all for being interested enough to buy this book. Exposure always helps us authors, and I really do appreciate it!
Happy reading,
Romi
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Click here!
“Last-Minute Love:”
in book two the saga of “awkward moments mixed with romance” continues. Here you’ll find more culture clash and adventure than ever before. There’s a big fat Indian wedding, a lingering long-distance flame, and an unexpected mystery man who could set a new course in motion. Chapter One is available below, and you can find the book at the Amazon Kindle store!
E-book links for “Last-Minute Love:”
Chapter One
A woman in a studded collar, leather bikini, and fishnet stockings stared at me from behind the glass.
Luckily she was only a mannequin, dressed in the finest gear this Toronto sex shop had to offer.
I turned my attention back to the puddles I was avoiding, as I hurried my way up Yonge Street. This seemingly never-ending street began at Lake Ontario and ended a few towns later, but the twenty-minute patch between the touristy Dundas Square and swanky Bloor Street was something you’d describe as...eclectic. At least that’s what a tourist magazine might call it. I’d call it borderline insane.
It’s not that I was too uptight to be seen around a sex shop (
yeah right...I’ll go with sweet tender “lovemaking” with the lights OFF, thank you very much
), it’s that it wasn’t consistently-themed as a “sex neighbourhood.” It was an “everything neighbourhood.”
Intimidating Scientology center.
Tattoo parlour.
Hole-in-the-wall nail salon.
Jewellery store.
Sex shop.
Dollar Bonanza.
Pretentious book store that only carries leather-bound titles.
McDonald’s.
It was Toronto with multiple-personality disorder, and it definitely made our city...unique. The people were a perfect match, as even now at eleven a.m., there was a little bit of everything here. From precious old ladies in cute wool hats, to sullen teenage girls who’d traded high school for the cautionary life (short denim skirts and last night’s eyeliner were the dead giveaways). As for me, the casually-dressed Indian girl with long hair hanging freely, I didn’t really belong to this late-morning crowd. With jeans, tall boots, a flowing scarf and layered tops, you would instantly mistake me for a wannabe writer. As a matter of fact that’s exactly what I was, but on a full-time basis I belonged to the cubicle tribe, where all its members were hard at work making millions for “the man.” I’d be back to that soon enough, but today was my chance to escape.
Today was my twenty-ninth birthday.
A grey April morning wasn’t really helping me celebrate, but at least the rain had stopped, leaving a cool damp air in its wake.
And puddles.
I skipped over this latest one and continued on, as the normalized world of over-priced shopping and expensive eateries slowly came into view. I was a mere two blocks from Bloor Street now, with Toronto’s trendy Yorkville up ahead. There was something about being around rich people who didn’t have jobs that inspired my writing. I never even ended up writing about them in detail, but somehow they were word-count triggers. Maybe the expensive perfume was a hallucinogen.
Before I could start envisioning a steaming latte and the perfect window seat, I realized I’d let my guard down for a moment too long. The attractive young man with the clipboard now had me in his sights, and idiot that I was, I hadn’t even bothered to grab my phone to pretend I was busy.
“Nice boots,” he said, with the slightest air of seduction. It was just enough to make me blush thereby acknowledging his existence.
Dammit.