What happened to her easy banter? Maybe she’s dealing with something else unrelated to the airlines. Yesterday after our incredible hike, she’d been obsessed with calling her boyfriend to tell him about it. Maybe he broke up with her.
Yeah, right. Nobody is that stupid.
A customer service agent sticks her messy-do inside the main cabin door. “Ready to board?”
Claire blinks and shoots a confident grin to the agent. “Go ahead and start. I’ll be ready by the time the first passenger gets down here.”
Okay, so she’s not concussed. And in the three days since we started, she’s found confidence for her new career. I’m not sure why I’m receiving the silent treatment, but I knew this trip had to come to an end eventually.
I let Claire set out small water bottles on the first-class seats, and I take mine, wondering what exactly it is that I’m returning to. My dog. My house. My church. My hometown.
The last one gives me pause. I scratch my chin.
I didn’t even return to my hometown for Dad’s wedding, though that had been a simple courthouse affair. I wasn’t in a place to celebrate his new love, plus I had concerns of running into my ex and the guy she’d left me for.
But maybe I could get over my heartbreak the same way I encouraged Claire to climb the mountain yesterday. I may not be able to see all the stairs, but I’m capable of taking the next step.
Dad invited me home for Thanksgiving. I could take his new kids sledding on the hill by the gazebo and watch the entire Bavarian village light up as part of the town’s annual festival.
Last year Joey went with me. At that time I wouldn’t have imagined ever attending without her. When we broke up, I determined I’d never go again. I’d thought it would be too hard. But somehow the ache has dulled.
I put my thoughts on hold to focus on our takeoff, but the calm remains. Like when Dad took me skiing the first time and I fell off a skilift—I’m waiting for the pain to kick in, but surprisingly, there is none. I’m more numb with shock than anything.
My newfound revelation doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to running into Joey, but I’m not going to give up other things I love simply to avoid her.
“Hey, man.” Vincent removes his headset from one ear to make our chat more intimate. “I got a deal on tickets for the Seahawks game November seventh. You free?”
I pause in checking gauges and adjusting the wing flaps. Vincent isn’t only asking me whether I’m free. He’s asking if I’m ready to attend my first Seahawks game since I proposed to Joey on the Jumbotron.
The truth is, I’ve stopped going places I love not only to avoid my ex but also to avoid my memories of her. Again I wait for this reminder to rip a scab from my injured heart. Yet my pulse continues at its normal rate. The wound has scarred over.
“I’m free.” In every way.
I wish I could thank Claire for her healing touch on my life, but she’s already acting weird enough without me sounding creepy by saying, “Hey, my attraction to you has given me hope for a future relationship.” So instead I sit across from her in the hotel shuttle, wait to catch her eye. Then I smile, and say, “Home, James.”
Her face lights up, and we’re back to the day we first met—when I was the one helping her. Vincent and Desiree took a different shuttle to the employee parking lot to drive themselves home, so it’s just her and me and a group of business professionals heading to their hotel.
She relaxes against her seat with a sigh. “We did it.”
She’s got that post-trip high—that feeling we get when all the work is done, we’ve bonded with our colleagues, and we get to go home to tell friends and family the stories we collected while away. Plus the ability to cook our own meals, work out in our own gyms, and sleep in our own beds.
Except she’s returning to a crash pad. Her bed isn’t her own.
“How long are you off?” I ask.
She grimaces. “I’m on call one more day. But I’ll fly home to San Francisco after that.”
I nod. That’s crash pad life. “Have you put in for transfer?”
“Yes.” She wrinkles her little nose. “I’m not sure how long I’m going to last if they don’t transfer me at the end of the month.”
She’s homesick already? I guess I was too when doing the long-distance thing with Joey. Yet so many people in this industry commute on an airplane to work. “It gets easier.”
“Hmm ...” She looks out the window, watching our drive up the hill.
With this rain, a few of the local homeless have taken shelter in the covered bus stops, while others opt for sitting against buildings with umbrellas propped over their heads. Traditionally Washingtonians wear waterproof jackets with hoods to maintain our anti-umbrella stance, but most of us don’t have to live in the elements like these folk. I feel for them. At the same time I feel Claire’s fear of them.
The shuttle squeaks to a stop under the Marriott portico. We let the hotel guests jostle past first. Perhaps Claire thinks she’s going to be dropped off at her apartment again, but her Samoan protector isn’t driving today.
