I check through security, thanking God that TSA didn’t feel the need to dig through my bag.
I turn to see if Austin was watching and waiting for a show, but I only see him walking away, and I wonder if I truly have it in me to watch him walk away for good because I don’t think I do. I’ve never had trouble telling people to give me space, leave me alone, or just disappear altogether, but he’s different.
The bubble I have built around myself feels big and lonely. It’s like he’s been inside of my bubble with me this last month or so, and now that I can stretch out and take in everything around me, I feel like I’m lost when he’s not with me.
I go through the motions of making my way through the terminal and up to my gate. Thank goodness Brendan is picking me up from the airport in Boston because I’m going to need a hug when I get there.
A seat next to the check-in booth is free and I sit down and stare out onto the tarmac as they prepare the plane. I find myself wondering what made me want to be in the hospitality business, but it’s all I’ve known since I graduated from college. It just kind of happened, unplanned. That’s how I like to live—how I liked to live. I don’t know what I want now, and that’s scarier than just letting life happen.
I enjoy the fast pace of the job, and I like people watching. Plus, feeling in charge is nice, and the money isn’t so bad now that I’ve moved up the chain a bit. Blah. I have to snap out of it and go with the flow of my life. I was meant to get this interview and I’m meant to go through the motions. Whatever happens after, happens.
I’ve managed to zone out long enough that the flight attendants are calling all passengers to board the plane, so I look at my ticket and walk over to the collector. I hand the agent my ticket and head down the narrow, enclosed bridge to the plane’s opening.
I’m one of the last people to board the plane, but I checked my bag so I don’t have much with me, which is good. I take my aisle seat next an old man who’s reading a newspaper. I slouch back to get comfortable and pull my earbuds out of my purse.
“Going home or visiting?” he asks immediately.
A talker. Fabulous. No one would ever guess that I work in the hospitality field. “I’m not sure,” I tell him.
“Well, then, you must have quite the story.” The guy looks like Santa. I can’t think of a better way to describe him. He’s even got the jolly, pink cheeks that look like they’re stuffed full of candy. I try not to focus on the fact that his shoulder is leaning up against mine and probably will be for the next few hours. My poor bubble.
“I don’t know if it’s a story, or just that I just have trouble making life decisions,” I chuckle and pull out the airline magazine from the pocket in front of me.
“I hear ya, kid. My daughter lives in South Carolina, but my girlfriend lives in Boston.” His story sounds way more fascinating than mine.
“How old is your daughter?” I ask.
“Sixteen,” he says. The man seems a bit old to have such a young daughter but to each their own.
“That’s a tough age I’ve been told.”
“It’s the age where she needs her mom—the woman who moved down to South Carolina just to make my life a little more challenging.”
“Did she remarry?”
“Yes, she did,” he says with a sigh.
“I see the problem,” I tell him. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to talk to my girlfriend and try to persuade her to move down South with me. If it doesn’t work, I suppose I’m not worth enough to her.” He shrugs. “What are you going to do?” I can hear in his voice that the poor man is hurting. He sounds out of breath just telling me about his situation. At least I don’t have a kid in my mix. That would add a whole new level of complication I probably couldn’t handle.
“Life can be unfair sometimes, but I’m certain everything happens for a reason. Although, I’ve noticed lately that life likes to be kind of sneaky and not show you the reason up front. It makes everything a gamble, you know?” I tell him.
“You’re a smart woman. I hope my daughter has the same kind of head on her shoulders that you do. Your parents must be proud,” he says.
I hold in the laughter, sparing him thewoe is mestory. Instead, I smile to end the conversation and glance down at my magazine.
* * *
The wheels hitting the ground cause me to jump. That was a good nap I wasn’t planning on. I should try reading plane magazines more often I guess. I pull my phone out of my bag and turn the airplane mode off, so I can text Brendan to let him know I’ve landed.
The man next to me is just waking up too. “Don’t you love when you sleep through the whole flight?” he asks.
“It’s like it never happened,” I tell him.
“Hey, good luck with your dilemma.” The man pats me on the back and groans as he stands up to leave.
“Same to you. I hope your girlfriend decides to go with you.”
