DD, I think I have survived everything now. Get me on solid ground, STAT. There is a reason the good Lord gave us FEET. To walk and not fly.
If you help me live, I will (most likely) not attempt this lunacy again. (Hopefully.)
Yours,
Mira
I’ve probably looked at the airline ticket a hundred times, each time hoping it will tell me what to do. The night before the flight, Dave knocks on my door.
“You packed yet?” he asks.
I frown at him and shake my head. “What made you think I was going?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess it was the free ticket to Paris.” He snorts and even though I’m exhausted and anxious I laugh with him. “What if you went and heard him out? Things can be clearer without all the excess noise around you…it doesn’t mean you have to be with him. Hell, you can even ditch him once you land and just enjoy the city.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” I admit.
“I can take you to the airport in the morning,” he says.
“You really think I should go?” I ask. I shift my feet to the floor, knocking a throw pillow off of my bed in the process.
“I think you might regret it if you don’t,” he says.
I hardly sleep at all that night and don’t pack a thing. I don’t set the alarm and tell myself if I do fall asleep and wake up in time to get to the airport, that will be my answer.
So when the sun hits my eyes and I jump straight up, wide awake after, at most, two hours of sleep, I don’t think, I just start throwing things into a suitcase. I hurriedly shower, brush my teeth, and put mascara on before walking out to see if Dave really meant what he said. He’s waiting in the kitchen, a to-go coffee mug held out for me.
Mum is sitting there, dressed for work and beaming.
“Don’t get any ideas,” I tell her. “This means absolutely nothing.”
She acts like she’s locking her lips and not saying a word. I lean down and hug her and she whispers, “Have fun. Be safe. I don’t need to become a granny just yet.”
I groan.
The airport is a nightmare. I get my bag checked with minimal trouble, but then it takes forever to get through security. As we divide into lines for the last round, I get cut off by a businessman who thinks he deserves to get through faster than the rest of us, namely me, as his bag gives my leg a painful swipe. By the time it’s my turn to put all my things on the conveyor, I’m a pile of nerves. My shoelace breaks as I’m trying to get my shoes back on and I give up, leaving both shoes untied.
No sign of Jaxson, and to his credit, he hasn’t hassled me since leaving the ticket a couple of days ago. Part of me wonders if he’s changed his mind about asking me to go. Or maybe he’s sending me alone! My God. I haven’t even considered that possibility yet.
I hear the last call for my flight as I’m twelve gates away and start running. One of my shoes keeps sliding off of my heel, but it manages to stay on. When I reach the gate, the attendant is typing away at her computer, but no one else is around.
“Please tell me I’m not too late…” I lean onto the counter, huffing, and a drop of sweat glides down my forehead.
She looks up. “You’re cutting it very close,” she says.
I want to cry, but she takes my ticket and scans it through the machine.
“Enjoy Paris,” she says, waving me through.
I take a deep breath before walking into the plane, humiliated to be the last one. But there he is. Seated in the second row in first class, the relief in Jaxson’s eyes is almost my undoing. I tuck that feeling away and give him a faint smile. He stands up and takes my carry-on from me, putting it overhead as I take the seat by the window.
When he sits next to me, he leans over and kisses my cheek. “Thank you for coming,” he says softly. He lifts a glass of champagne. “I got this for you, just in case.”
“It’s not even nine in the morning,” I whisper. I look around like the police are going to jump out and catch me for taking an underage sip. Just a couple of months before I’m twenty-one…no big deal, right? I look around again. No one is watching so I gulp it down, enjoying the burn.
Jaxson’s eyes widen, along with his smile. “There are no constraints on this trip…at least not where time is concerned.”
I lean my head back against the seat and turn to face him. His face—his perfect, beautiful face—is so close my lips could almost brush against his. I swallow and he leans in closer, his nose touching mine.
“I want to say something and I want to be sure you hear me right from the very start.” I lean back just enough to get my bearings but not by much. “This trip, while you really shouldn’t have done it, well, I’m just going to say thank you. I am appreciative and once the shock goes away, I know I will be very excited that I’m actually going to Paris.” When I say the words, my heart picks up a little more. “Paris!” I smile at him and his eyes crinkle at the corners with his happiness. “I want to be comfortable with you, Jaxson. That’s all I’m after. It doesn’t mean we’re picking up where we left off or starting something new…it simply means I don’t want to see you at a crowded party and wish I could run the other way.”
The pain in his eyes makes me regret my words instantly, but I hold to them.
“I’m sorry if that’s too harsh. It needs to be said. It’s how I feel. I can’t give you the summer, or even next week, but I will give you Paris.” I lift a shoulder. “And you might not still want me around after saying what I’ve said, but we can put the animosity aside for the trip and enjoy the place we’ve always wanted to go.”
“I don’t have any animosity toward you,” he says quietly. “I just want to prove to you that I’ve changed and that I’m clear on what I want.”
“That may be true, but I’ve also changed, and now I want different things.”
He pulls back, stung, and I don’t jump in to make him feel better, as I would have in the past. I let my words sink in and feel a sense of closure that I’ve needed, just by updating him on my feelings. Or lack thereof.
Breakfast comes before the awkwardness is too consuming and we eat the cute airplane food that isn’t half bad in first class. I comment on this just to make conversation, and the time passes quickly as we half watch a movie together on the TV screen in front of us.
Eventually, I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes, the exhaustion of overthinking every little thing catching up with me. The next thing I know, I wake up to a loud noise and a jolt. The plane shudders and dives and the captain tells everyone to quickly get in their seats and fasten seat belts. Jaxson takes my hand in his and I realize that I’m shaking. Besides flying from London to California and back those times as a kid, I haven’t flown and those flights weren’t rough. This seems extreme. We lurch and my stomach dives into the floor while my food jumps up in my throat. People are crying out with each drastic drop, and the person in the row across from us searches frantically for a bag and gets it just in time, the sound of her throwing up making me feel sicker.
I look at Jaxson, wide-eyed, and he puts his arms around me, holding me close.
“It’ll be okay,” he says. But then we take another dive and several people scream.
“We are going to have to make an unscheduled landing, folks. Fasten your seat belts, and stay in your seat until we are on the ground. Everyone, please remain calm,” the pilot adds.
“Where are we landing, did you hear?” I ask Jaxson, the panic making my voice shrill.
“He didn’t say,” Jaxson yells over the commotion.
When we drop this time, I grip Jaxson’s hand as hard as I can. The plane shudders and dips and I feel sure we’re going to crash in the middle of nowhere, but then a runway comes into view and we’re heading for it. When we touch the ground, the passengers applaud and I turn my head in the crook of Jaxson’s neck and breathe in the relief.
“We made it,” he whispers, kissing my forehead.
I lean into him, my body soaking in every touch of his, despite my brain warning me to stay away. It’s just the situation we’re in. We nearly died, for goodness’ sake.
The speaker system crackles and the pilot gets on, sounding somewhat calmer. “We’ve landed in Montreal and will get you to the gate as soon as we can to work out your next travel arrangements. Thank you for your patience.”
“Montreal?” Jaxson says. He looks frustrated, but when he turns to me, his eyes soften. “Well, things have never gone as expected for us, have they. We’ll get there…” His hand stays in mine and we both take a deep breath.