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Lou:Ah, here we go. You feel that, Chuck?
Chuck:What, the tension or your arthritis acting up?
Lou:Both. But mainly these two lovesick birdies. It’s like watching two skittish gazelles circling the same watering hole.
Chuck:Yeah, except one of them is pretending they’re not thirsty, and the other one’s about to drown.
“Sir, we can give you a few more minutes but we’ll need you to board soon.” The ticket agent gives me another pity-filled expression. I nod in understanding, too full of emotions I don’t want to think about right now.
I grip the brim of my ball cap, a gift from my cousin, and adjust it again, needing to keep my hands busy from the worry I’m clearly not hiding from anyone. She told me—sheurgedme—not to fall in love with her and I foolishly agreed. How could anyone fall head over heels with someone in such a short time? Sure as hell not me. At least I didn’t think it was possible for what we both called a fling to turn into us spending every waking moment together. How could I not fall for Paloma? I’ve never met a woman so magnetic.
My phone burns a hole in my pocket from my need to check it, butI know there’s no notification waiting to be read, at least not from her. Rubbing my sweaty hands along the tops of my thighs as I search for her in the terminal, my eyes scan the neighboring gates but I only catch a few unfamiliar faces. They’re all in their own worlds, trying to get from point A to B, but somehow I’m stuck in limbo between the two destinations.
At least if the airport was busy, I could use my searching as an excuse to look around, but it’s not. There are only a few people here and even they’re in no rush to get to their gates. Still, I wait till each person passes, wishing her to show, but in my heart I know she’s not coming. Even if she had the words to express how she feels, it’s too soon for her. My Heartbreaker is too scared of the possibility of someone loving her through the hurt and making it out on the other side. Against my own better judgement, I slip my hand in my pocket and pull out my phone to check our text thread. I reread the end of our conversation from last night. My heart is telling me to check again—urging me—maybe I missed something.
Clinton
I’m so glad you’re going with me, Paloma. We can leave together in the morning.
Dove
Me too! I’ll meet you there, okay? I still need to finish up a few things.
Clinton
Of course. See you in the morning, baby.
And then, my dumbass clearly thinks everything is okay. I knew it was too soon but I thought—I don't know what the hell I thought. I guess I was more hopeful than anything. Seeing she couldn’t bring herself toshow bruises my heart, my ego too, maybe. It hurts like hell but I can’t find it in me to be angry with her. Not right now. She has to do what’s right for her. I just wish it wasn’t at the expense of my heart. The late breakfast I had turns to lead in the pit of my stomach as I reread the messages sitting unread in our chat.
Clinton
Paloma, let me know when you get here and I will come get your bags.
You’re cutting it close.
Paloma?
I tried calling you but it’s going to voicemail. Are you okay?
Listen, if you’re scared it’s okay. You don’t have to come, baby. I understand this was a big ask and I would never want you to do something you don’t feel comfortable with but at least tell me you’re okay.
Please.
Nothing. Fuck, man. I love this woman, but if this is how she truly feels for me…then maybe this is what’s best for the both of us.
Something in my gut tells me even those words are a lie. They sit heavy in my mind and somehow press down on my chest. I know she loves me but she's too scared to admit it. I knew asking her to come with me was too much too soon but I pushed anyway, thinking maybe the gesture would help her overcome her fear, but I was wrong.
Too caught up in my wants to consider what she actuallyneeds.Still, I curl my fingers into the cushion of the seat, and make a feeble attempt to get a grip on my feelings.
The flight attendant nods her head in my direction, and I know my time’s up. I don’t want to get on this plane without her—I don't want to leave Cypress Lake with unfinished business, if I can even call it that.
“Sir, it’s time to board.” I nod my head in response and pull my carry-on bag up to my shoulder. Getting on the plane doesn't feel right but it's what I have to do. To honor the contracts I’ve signed, but even more so, to give her the spaceshe needs.
From: Clinton Morrison
Date: July 14
