Chapter eleven: Big fat nothing

Big fat nothing. That is what I left behind. Someone who didn’t want to be with me anymore. That is what I left behind. Cold weather and bad mosquitoes and lakes you can’t swim in. Left behind. Drivers who don’t use signal lights. Malls where you have to drive from store to store. Construction season that lasts all summer. Potholes. That is what I left behind.
 
My guitars. I miss those. They all have names. The Taylor is called Mother, even though I could have just called it Taylor. The Simon and Patrick 12 String, that already has two given names, is Brian, and my Fender Strat is Jose since it was MIM which translates to Made in Mexico.
 
I made a phone call. “Hello Jaine. Hey I mentioned I’d be back in mid-July. Yeah, about that. I’m not coming back. Wait… Stop for a second… No, I don’t want to fucken come back. No! It is not about a woman (which was a partial lie). And look, we have a full team there. You don’t need me. I am officially putting you in charge. Yes I know. I agree with you when you say you’ve been in fucken charge for a long time. But now it is official. Can you give my condo keys to Kat? I’ll ask him to figure out the details. No, I am fucken serious. I will miss how you use swear words. Always inspiring. Goodbye Jaine.” She was still dropping the F bomb like a sailor as I hung up.
 
“Who was that?” Pamela was walking out of the washroom with my new hairbrush.
 
“Oh nothing to worry about Pamela. I just gave my notice. I’m staying here. Not in this crappy hotel. But I’m staying.”
 
“Ah, I thought you were talking to someone at the door,” said Pamela. “Looks like someone stuck your bill under the door, there’s an envelope.” Pamela hands me the envelope.
 
“Well, I am paid up for a month. That is not a bill. I think our people are getting restless with us.”

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