Good Luck (The Red #3)

“Is this some kind of sick joke?”

It was my turn to keep silent. She should let her feelings out. Or else it would end up being a fight. It had happened before, and I intend not to let it happen now. Especially now.

“I mean, listen to yourself.”

Yes, I do, Babe. Yes, I do “…”

“You were saying that you need to go and play hide and seek. And we shouldn’t find you? Ed, this is Insane.”

“…”

“Here I thought you were finally done writing your draft. I seriously planned on taking a different approach for this novel, Ed. But what you are saying is beyond insane.”

“…” I can sense her relaxing a bit.

“Listen, Ed. It’s not only about you or me. It’s about everything we have built so far. If this hits the news, then it will ruin it all.”

Now she is being dramatic. “Babe. I know that. I know it will affect everything. It has been tough for me to decide this. But this is our only way. I have to get myself isolated for me to get my writing.”

“You were all alone in this fucking apartment. Is it not isolation enough? You were saying not only you want to go somewhere else, but you don’t want anyone to contact you not even me? This isn’t how it works, Ed.”

“Listen to me, Babe. I have prepared all that were needed for my isolation. Your job is to handle the press and the news. You can commercialise my missing too if you want.”

“Don’t fucking tell me how to do my job.” She put both her arms on my shoulders. “Ed, this is not about your creativity or concentration or whatever shot you plan on doing. This is about you. Isolating yourself can go both ways.” She paused a bit and continued. “I can be with you for the time being. We can finish the novel like we did back.”

I considered it for a moment. But it would only make things worse. She’s just telling this idea to help me but not to get back on our relationship. It would only depress me rather than giving me ideas. I should deny.

“No, Helen. I just called you to look over our editorial department till I come back. I promise you that the draft I am going to work will be my last. If you still won’t like it, then I won’t write anything after that. I have to rediscover myself and this is the only way.”

Helen looked me straight in the eye. Then she took her hands from my shoulders and took the whiskey cup. She gulped her last pint of the bitter and took her purse. She turned and walked towards the door. I thought of calling her, but I know she would never listen. She went outside and stopped. She turned back and looked me.

“Good luck”

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