Crave

chapter one: devotion and desire

~~

If you're not ready, you're not ready

Please, stop acting like you are

How could I know

That everything you say are lies about devotion and desire?

And I know the spark inside your eyes

Was just the match I used to set myself on fire

~~

the rain is steady, tapping against the old glass-paned windows of my Airbnb like an even drumroll, a warmup to the show that's looming in just hours. In my case, the "show" would be my return home after five long years away. Loss, confusion, and the need to branch out and savor life while I still could had prompted me to spread my wings, apply for graduate school, and travel-nursing to see new cities, treat new patients. I loved it, I did, and part of me was sad that I was stood here at 2 in the morning, packing up the last of my clothes into a checked bag, instead of fluttering around the ER at Vanderbilt. Nashville was my longest stay, where I renewed my temporary travel-contract three times, because I enjoyed the area, the music scene, the nightlife the most.

I tap my iPhone's screen to double-check the time. 2:45. My flight left at 6 on the dot, if the rain would cooperate. I study the photo of my fiancé Jeremy and I in the lock screen, but my heart doesn't flutter or skip a beat like it used to. Something was off, lately, and I couldn't place my finger on why. We were smiling, and the photo's focus was on the ring adorning my left finger, the too-big diamond cutting through every rubber glove I tried to wear ever since that fateful day, nearly 8 months ago now. But our last phone call showed otherwise.

We were curt, short with each other. We usually were, truth be told, but especially so once we passed the four-weeks-apart mark. It didn't use to be like this, back when he was travelling for work, too, taking business trips to Europe more often than not while I lost myself in the steady beeps and pages of the hospital. We'd met in Seattle, during my third travel contract, my best friend Quinn and I taking a tour of Capital Hill and its many places to drown your sorrows. When we first met, I'd mistaken him for one of UW's frat bros cruising with a fake ID, and teased him for it once he tried to chat me up. But he pulled out the charm, and the pop culture references to prove that he was closer to 35 than he was 21, much to my relief.

"I'm a co-owner of a startup based in LA. We sell energy drinks that won't kill you."

Me, being a nurse and staunchly against anything resembling the jet-fuel that was Monster or Red Bull, I gave him a skeptical look as I sipped my gin and tonic. As we chatted back and forth, I kept my guard up. I wasn't looking for a relationship, given that I was only in Seattle for the next six weeks, and my next destination was always unknown. My heart still ached after the loss of one of my older brother's oldest friends – and because we were all so close, in turn, that meant the loss of one of my own oldest friends, too. Jimmy was just 28 years old, and at that time, I was just months away from becoming the same age, and it felt weird, moving on and being happy in my life without him in it.

But Jeremy was persistent. He was in town for a week, and somehow weaseled his phone number into my contacts list... I got three coffee dates, two dinners, and one moon-lit cruise on the water with him before he and his crew left for Denver. "We'll keep in touch," He'd promised me, and boy, we sure did. Before I knew it, he was my boyfriend, and whenever we had time off, we planned visits, outings, trips overseas. His company blew up quickly, thanks to social media's hyper fixation on health and fitness, and suddenly I couldn't go anywhere without seeing Jeremy and his co-owner, Luke, posed shirtless next to life-sized cans of "Renew Energy".