It’s time to go home.
42
“There’s really nothing?” I tap my credit card on the counter, eying the United Airlines attendant.
She shakes her hair-sprayed head and not a single hair moves. “Sorry, the flight is completely full. I can get you on another flight to Los Angeles, then you’ll have a twelve hour layover before the connecting flight to New Zealand.”
I frown. A twelve hour layover doesn’t sound ideal, but I do want to get out of here—the sooner the better. God, how I wish I could just click my heels together and be home already.
The attendant glances between me and the line of people forming behind me. “What would you like to do?”
I fiddle with my credit card. For some reason I feel myself hesitating, and she purses her lips impatiently.
“Why don’t you take a minute to think about it? It doesn’t leave for four hours and there’s plenty of seats left.”
I give her a brittle smile, then drag my suitcases over to a bench and sink down, closing my eyes. Touching the book charm around my neck, I feel another wave of misery. Going back home is hardly what I want to do. I feel like a complete and utter failure, but what choice do I have? There’s nothing left for me here.
I should call Mum and tell her I’m coming home, but I can’t face her pity, her saying—probably word for word—“I told you so.” And worst of all, I’m worried that maybe she was right all along.
Because what the hell have I done? I’ve wasted thousands of dollars trekking across the planet for nothing. Still, I guess I can always earn more money. Worst of all is the damage I can’t undo; the hurt I’ve caused Cat and the writing career I came so close to having, then threw away. All because some hot guy wanted to get in my pants.
That’s the thing that hurts the most. I trusted Michael. I let him see who I really am, let him see the things that have hurt me. And then he just went and hurt me too.
Despite all this, for some reason I’m not marching over and buying a ticket home. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but something is keeping me rooted to this plastic chair. It’s like I need someone to tell me it’s the right thing to do, to push me. But who? I don’t want to hear my mother’s voice right now. I’m too ashamed to call Emily and tell her I’m about to crawl back home.
Before I know what I’m doing, I thumb through my contacts and lift my phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Harri.”
“Hey!” My sister’s voice is bright and happy, and I burst into tears. “Shit. What’s wrong?”
A woman two seats down from me gives me a peculiar look and I try to pull myself together. “Sorry. I’m just… I’m at the airport. I think I’m going to come back to New Zealand.”
She’s quiet for a beat. “Okay. Why?”
I tell her everything, trying to keep my emotions in check. When I’m done, I lean back against the plastic seat, feeling hollow and spent. I know she’s going to convince me to stay here, keep trying, etcetera, and I don’t have the energy to fight her.
“Well, okay then,” Harriet says at last. “Come home.”
“Oh,” I say, taken aback. “You think I should?”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble. “Mum and Dad will make me feel awful.”
“Oh, yeah. They will. But you need to do what’s right for you. If that’s the only thing stopping you, then you should come home.”
I fiddle with the book charm, looking around the airport concourse at the people with excited faces, about to embark on adventures. That was me a few months ago. And now I’m back here, feeling as if I’ve just given up.
Harriet sighs. “Look, I know you’ve always struggled with what Mum and Dad think, but you need to find a way to get past that. I had to learn to. Remember when they wanted me to go to university? We had a big fight about it.”
“You did?” I ask vacantly. “Why was that, again?”
“They assumed that since you’d gone, I’d go. They couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to.”
“But they were annoyed when I left for uni!”
