Escapism Is In The Eye Of The Person Holding The Hotel Key
Day 157 of The Andie Chronicles
Drawing back the curtains of this modest but charming hotel room, I couldn’t reconcile the heat beating against the ocean-view windows. The Queensland mornings were nothing like Melbourne's icy temperatures.
Sure, it wasn't the middle of summer weather. But in the northern state, you could guarantee to step outside and avoid freezing to death.
And as I walked my bowl of yoghurt to the balcony, I was thankful I had picked the first place with an available flight. Surfers Paradise, you never fail to disappoint.
I knew what I had to do today; walk along the beach, get a smoothie, find somewhere to eat dinner, and quit the urge to ball my eyes out again.
Last night, after arriving at the hotel well into the night, I encountered a bout of unstoppable tears.
My reality, the deception, the way my loved ones unveiled it to me, the truth was worse than I imagined. These were my best friends taking jabs at me, behind my back, during the most unsettling time of my life.
I knew I had made mistakes, but I was trying so hard to fix everything and get it right. And not only had I screwed it all up, well and truly suffering from my own demise, but now my friends were void of any faith in me.
Running off to Queensland without telling them would probably confirm their views of me, too. Immature Andie can't handle her life. Instead, she handles it by running away. How mature.
But how could I stay and listen to them? How could I face them after everything they said about me? Why would I continue to put myself through this torture?
Yet, at thirty-five, I didn’t think this type of schoolyard behaviour would still be an issue. Gossiping, pointing out the one girl who always got it wrong, whispering behind her back.
It happened to me in year nine. And the girls I went to school with knew how to bully like professionals. All girls' schools will provide adequate training in this department.
And the Melbourne private school kids were savages. We came from money and opinions, which meant we felt we had some entitlement to flaunt it.
Turns out you don’t really grow out of that behaviour. Even when the money isn't yours, anymore.
I wasn’t planning on staying here permanently. A week or two, I thought to myself as my parma arrived with the tallest beer I had ever seen.
Get my head straight, and reset.
After taking a bite, I opened my phone and revisited the email chain. I skipped past all the apologies and ‘call me’ messages and queries about where I was and simply typed;
“Gone away for a little bit. Taking annual leave, sent through to HR, who approved. See you soon.”
The waitress came to clear my plate. I inhaled it at lightning speed but didn’t care.
As she picked up my dishes, she stopped and noted my t-shirt. It was the one James had worn to Annabella’s event, one of our samples. One of many Douglas so cooly rejected.
“That tee, I love it. Where did you get it?”
“It’s my design. I made it.”
“Oh, my god. Do you sell it? How can I get one?”
Resisting the urge to rise from my seat and hug this beaming beauty, I felt an elation I couldn’t describe.
“I will soon, I promise.”
She walked away and I couldn’t contain the smile on my face. It was a promise I intended to keep.
You’re reading The Andie Chronicles, the 2023 romance-fiction series from the 1 Lovelock Drive (1LD) universe.
By the way, this all started when Andie turned thirty-five, and her then-boyfriend didn’t call her.
Or the day after that.
Or the day after that, too.
Everything started to unravel when her BFFs got into bed with her ex, too… ⬇️ ⬇️ ⬇️
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A little lost on what’s happening at 1 Lovelock Drive?
Well, you see, Andie’s break-up started back in February and so much has happened since then. These stories will help you catch right up! xx
