I doubt you’ve been keeping up to date with current events, because if you were, you’d be home by now. So I’ll spare you the gory details and get right down to business. Evan Carr dropped any and all charges against you. Apparently, you have a guardian angel watching over you, because his team was ready to go to war. So count that as a victory—your home is safe.
However, things may look completely different if you don’t get your ass back here soon. Diane and Riku came up with this crazy idea to completely transform Oasis into a Hedonism-style couples resort. And considering that you’ve got folks trying to visit this place like it’s Disneyland for perverts, I think it’s a solid plan. Laura and Brad have agreed to come on board full-time, teaching tantric yoga amongst otherthings. They’ve even talked to Candi and Jewel about a strip aerobics-type class and a more intimate, striptease course for couples. They are all happy to help, Justice. They care about you…we all do.
Obviously, Erin was not invited back to the property. Last I heard, she dropped out of med school and is one snort away from being a coked out call girl. Unlucky for her and her bullshit little blackmail stunt, once the footage was released from, you know, that day…her audiotape was worthless. So not only is she a lying whore, she’s a broke, jobless, lying whore.
I don’t know if you’re reading these, or if you’re even somewhere that has Wi-Fi, but just know that we’re rooting for you. Nobody blames you for what you did to Evan; that little shit deserved it. And now that everyone knows that you’re Winston Carr, II’s abandoned son, the whole world sympathizes with you and understands why you reacted the way you did.
They stole everything from you, Justice. Don’t let them take away everything that you’ve accomplished as well.
Okay, until next time. Maybe you’ll actually reply and let me know that you’re not dead in some ditch in Rio. Like I said before, we’re all here for you. If you want to leave Justice Drake behind, I totally understand. But don’t leave us behind. Don’t desert the people that love you. Okay?
-Heidi
THE EMAIL IS one of many I’ve read and discarded, stowing it all in that numb place inside me that isn’t allowed to feel or grieve. It’s better that way, for me, for everyone.
Heidi is right—I don’t keep up with current events. I don’t even watch television. Sometimes I pass a newsstand at an airport, and a familiar face looks back at me from those pages, but even that occurs less and less. According to the chatter amongst the local youth, I’ve gathered that a young Hollywood starlet is pregnant and she isn’t sure which Franco brother is the father. Ouch. Considering she’s barely legal, my money’s on Big Franco.
I’m sitting in a coffee shop in Amsterdam, enjoying a cup of herbal tea—you know…the fun kind—listening to the sounds of the city. It’s busy here, alive. Yet, there’s something so relaxing and mellow about this place. Maybe it’s the pot talking. Maybe my mind is finally distracted enough to feel something other than anger and regret. I even almost smile. Almost.
The shop girl grins at me, and I nod back. She’s beautiful, exotic with dark hair and features, yet her eyes are hauntingly light. A couple months ago, my gaze may have lingered on her just a little bit longer. Maybe I would have given her a small smile back. Just enough to show her that she had my attention, and could keep it, for a night.
The shop is empty, so she switches the television from a soccer match to what sounds like a comedy sitcom.
“Is this ok?” she asks me in heavily accented English.
I nod without looking at the screen and give her a forced grin. She takes it as an invitation and comes to stand at my little table.
“This is my favorite,” she says, smiling towards the TV. “And I’m glad they play the reruns in English. It helped me learn.”
I finally pull my attention away from the tiny herbs floating in my teacup and glance at the television. And the moment my eyes fall on the screen, I feel like I’ve been dumped into a dark, endless pool of ice-cold water. Just when I think someone has shown me mercy and thrown me a lifesaver, I realize that it’s weighted, and I sink straight to the bottom.
I can’t escape this.
I can’t escape her.
No matter where I go, she’s there. Even when she’s a million miles away.
Quirky Phoebe is comforting Ross, telling him to hang in there because no matter what, Rachel is his lobster. And once lobsters meet and fall in love, they mate for life. They always find each other. And sooner or later, Rachel and Ross will be together.
For the next half hour, I watch as pathetic Ross uses that reasoning with Rachel, trying to make her see that he is the only one for her. He fails miserably, of course, and Rachel dismisses him in exchange for more appealing prospects. Prospects like the Evan Carrs of the world. Because girls like Rachel don’t go for guys like Ross. No one wants the runner up.
The gang is sitting around Monica’s living room watching an old VHS tape of high school prom. Rachel is distraught after being stood up by her date, Chip. In the background sits lonely Ross—silent and unseen. His parents persuade him to take Rachel to the prom, and after some pressure, he agrees. And I see it—the light in Ross’s eyes. The very moment he is filled with hope and dreams and blind foolishness.
All of which are crushed into a speck of dust when Rachel runs past him and out the door…with Chip.
No one ever knew just how deeply Ross felt for her. He never told anyone. He isolated himself in his pain and rejection because he thought he wasn’t good enough. He knew he was the less than.
Adult Rachel sees him—finally seeshim. And she understands. Ross was made for her. She was made for him. And no amount of time or distance or circumstance can change that.
The two lock lips, and a giddy Phoebe repeats her heartfelt declaration from earlier. “See…he’s her lobster.”
As the episode ends, I get it. I finally get what Ally meant that day. And without rhyme or reason, I laugh.
Like, reallylaugh.
I laugh so hard that I’m doubled over, holding my side. The barista backs away slowly, startled by my sudden burst of hysterics. She probably thinks I’m high as a kite, and maybe I am. I don’t even care. It feels good just to release… something.
“Damn you, Phoebe Buffay,” I say out loud, shaking my head with a stupid grin on my face. “Damn you.”
Abu Dhabi
I HAD BEEN contemplating going home for weeks. But every time I thought about returning, I was left with the same bitter realization—I didn’t have a home anymore.
Oasis was/is still mine, yet it’s been tainted by paparazzi and tourists, hoping to get a peek at Justice Drake. It’s no longer the refuge I found after being extricated from the city as soon as I graduated high school. I used to blame my mother for taking the money in exchange for her silence, but then I realized that she did what she had to do to survive. Going against the Carrs would have been suicide, and I don’t mean that figuratively. If they truly wanted us to disappear, there’s no doubt in my mind we’d be struck down by some convenient “accident.” And even as a young Polish immigrant, with big dreams in the big city, she knew the kind of clout the Carrs held. So they bought our silence, and I learned the power of the almighty dollar. You could buy happiness, buy love and buy your freedom. And me? I bought a new life.