Mike is buying his ticket home this morning. Before he leaves, we square up our finances. I owe him 300F so I sell him my international money order that Mom sent to me, which I cannot cash without an account over here. Mike can cash it when he returns to Canada.
He returns for the travel agent's full of enthusiasm. The offer he saw yesterday has expired but he found another one even cheaper on Canada 3000. It leaves tomorrow
morning at 7:30am. He will need to leave the house by 4:30am to get to the airport and collect his ticket two hours in advance. This accelerates everything. I put a package together for him to take home for me, mostly comprised of maps and exposed rolls of film. He wants to develop them for me so he can show his lover John, since he has not had a camera of his own since he was mugged in Barcelona.
I call home and tell Mom the news of Mike's return, and that he will tell her the cost of developing my film. Everything is fine at home, though my business partner David has not yet returned to her the money he intimidated her into giving him out of my savings. He has told her he will soon however.
We celebrate his last evening in Amsterdam together. We start in the club Havana where Marc joins us for a drink until he leaves for work at five. We amble down Rembrantsplein afterwards. We drop into the Amstel Taverne where my ex-boyfriend's Seph knows a bartender named Marcel. I assume he must be a friend of Seph's, but
he's anything but friendly. He is not that busy, but when I explain who I am, he doesn't ask anything about me, my travels or even about Seph. He deliberately avoid me after serving a drink to a customer, so as soon as he is busy serving the next customer Mike and I slip out the door.It is raining now. We take refuge in a bar on Thobekesplein, where we share a couple brews. Afterwards, Mike wants to try out a rice table, which he hasn't yet experienced. I take him to Sukabomi, which I enjoyed two nights ago. We are enjoying each other's company so much because we know we soon won't have to.
Marc meets us back at his place and invites us to Cock Ring. It is busy. We sip our drinks on the raised platform overlooking the dance floor. Crowded bars aren't really comfortable environments for either of us. We aren't interested in dancing or drinking beer, and we have little to say to each other while we're there. We cannot stay long either, since Mike has to get up so early. After two drinks we leave. Mike goes straight to bed and I follow shortly afterwards. At 4, he gets up and orders a taxi for the airport, his bike already wrapped up and modified for the trip. He tells me to write often.
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