Everyone has baggage, but it's certainly not Selina's job to carry it for them.
*****
Radio talk show host Selina Locke was just looking for a peaceful summer in sunny Barcelona, but...
( — joss stone; english singer, songwriter, and actress. )
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SELINA HATES TO ACKNOWLEDGE HOW QUICKLY HER HEART IS BEATING—AND WHY.
She feels like a teenage girl all over again, giddy and childish over her high school crush, and it feels like defeat. That's why she has to support her weight on one of the kitchen counters, her free hand firmly gripping the edge, and glares at her reflection in the perfectly polished silver band decorating the cabinet above her head. She's tall enough to see her eyes in it.
"So," Remus continues, dragging the O, "we're sort of taking a break from the tour. We're getting back on the road in a couple of weeks, but, for now, we're flying back to LA and rest for a while, maybe get some songs written . . . you know the drill."
"The drill," Selina echoes. "I know it. Yeah, I know the drill."
Remus laughs. "You totally don't know the drill."
"I definitely don't know the drill. I'm just . . . I'm just glad you're all taking a break and maybe get some rest in the meantime. Touring the world must be exhausting." It's not like she would know how it feels like. She tires herself out just by walking up the stairs of the radio station, and her room is only five floors up. "How . . . how has it been? I've been trying to follow the latest news, but social media isn't always a faithful depiction of reality."
He sighs. "Yeah, I know. We're . . . we're managing, I suppose. I don't think we'll be splitting up anytime soon like we used to be at the beginning of the tour, but we've definitely seen better days." He pauses, and someone else speaks on his side of the line, in the distance. "We have to finish packing, but we should arrive first thing in the morning; I was calling just in case you . . . felt like doing anything while we're in the same city at the same time."
"Remus, you hurt me." She dramatically places a hand on her chest, even though he can't see her. "It's almost as if you've forgotten about Barcelona. Well, I haven't forgotten about Barcelona."
"I haven't forgotten about it either." She can hear the smile in his voice, and that forces her to sit down before her legs falter. It's as if they've turned into strings of wet spaghetti, and she feels downright pathetic. "I know . . . things have changed since then, and I'm always on the run, even while I'm not on tour, meaning things will never stay as they are at a certain point in time, but Barcelona was special to me. It hit me hard, and not because you looked like you wanted to punch me after I spit my orange juice all over you." Selina chuckles, shaking her head at the memory. Even though it happened only mere months ago, it feels like it's been forever since the last time she saw him. "Even with all the changes, I kept wondering if you'd go back if you could. I know I would."
