𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦?! | 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝟗. 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐨𝐟𝐟

It was a beautiful day to leave–the skies an innocuous contrast from the night before, columns of light wove between the low clouds, gray and burnished. All zipped up, your suitcase waited by the door. You were performing a final sweep around the house for any forgotten items, padding on the now-familiar floors. Travel anticipation and reminiscence stirred inside you.

Preparing to leave now, you also felt the bitter hint of a missed opportunity. An opportunity for what? You wondered to yourself. Your initial relationship with Clay could best be described as a roommate. And roommates could go months or even years without really acknowledging each other. In two weeks, you'd gotten the bond–the friendship–you'd wanted, hadn't you? More than you could ask for. But leaving now felt incomplete–as if you were abandoning something important or severing a connection that was only starting to form. But what more could you want? Anxiety churned inside you. Or could it be that–

"[Name], your papers?"

Oh, that was important–where had you put them? You flew around the house in a panic, opening up every pocket before your memory located it inside your soaked rain jacket. The booklet had since dried, but the situation was dire–despite your passport's protective material, your face was an inkblot and the rest was so waterlogged it may as well have been abstract art. Your travel-anticipation shattered on the floor–there was no way security would let you through with that.

Clay must've noticed your sudden silence or stunned expression. "Oh, no!" He exclaimed. "Your visa!"

You sank to the nearest seat. "Yes, my visa. What do I do?" You rolled up your sleeves. It was time to do some hardcore Googling.

The complicated legalese made your head spin–eligibility for the VWP? I-94? Consulate? But the gist was that you'd thankfully stored your passport and visa digitally before you'd left–if you understood right, that meant you wouldn't get deported; you'd called your mom–your grandparents would be fine without you and she'd assist you with replacing your documents. But meanwhile, bureaucracy demanded that you file a police report explaining how your passport got damaged–and the replacement process took about three months. For another quarter of the year, you'd be stranded in Florida.

Clay was more than willing to oblige. "Of course," he replied to your request. "Stay as long as you'd like." You were still stunned at the events of earlier today. Power had returned, so you two watched the most recent hurricane footage. You could see the glow of Twitter on his phone in your peripheral vision and feel his weight next to you on the couch. Amidst the insanity of the hurricane and then your visa, this quiet companionship was a solace.

Relief intermingled with guilt. "Just like that? I'm so, so, sorry, I don't want to take advantage–" Compared to two weeks, three months felt like an eternity. This wasn't temporary anymore, was it? Stress squeezed your stomach–over so much time, what would change? Would Clay get tired of you? Or resentful that you so overstayed your welcome?

He laughed. Clay seemed to be in a good mood, especially considering the massive inconvenience that had suddenly fallen upon you two. "–[Name], don't worry about it. I like having you around–" His expression turned guilty. "I mean–sorry you can't go. That uh, sucks. I really, definitely wish you could've flown out to California today."

You gave an awkward chuckle–so did he want you to stay or go? You considered it as the news cut to a clip of the nearby islands–they'd borne the hurricane when it was at Category 4. Water, colored like chocolate milk, swished along rooftops. Ships creaked and leaned like dominoes. Where it wasn't flooded, the streets were strewn with flotsam and palm trees had been uprooted like weeds.

You considered the destruction in silence. You two had no reason to deserve it more, but how lucky it was that Orlando had been spared. And how the people living in the Bahamas and the Keys must feel to wake up and find their home a wasteland.