Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Seven
Their flight is canceled.
This part, to Ellie, makes exactly zero sense. The last time, despite the storm and several delays, they still took off together. How, Ellie wonders, could her single choice—to modify the purpose of her family’s weekend getaway—somehow change entire flight patterns? It seems improbable. Impossible. But then again, no one ever really knows the vast ripple effects that are sent out into the larger world due to the decisions she makes in her own singular life.
“This doesn’t make sense,” Maggie announces before crunching her way through the package of cookies she picked up at a nearby newsstand. They’re standing at her gate as she prepares to board. “How is my flight still taking off on time?”
Through the wall of windows is a straight-shot view of the tarmac. The bold sun shines down on the runway, one final taste of the tropics for every traveler to enjoy before she jets away from this place.
“You’ll be fine, Mags,” Ellie reassures her daughter, and then pulls her own hair back into a low bun, securing it with the rubber band at her wrist. “I promise they wouldn’t let you take off if it wasn’t safe.”
Overhead, the gate’s speakers come to life. “We now welcome groups two and three to begin the boarding process,” a member of Maggie’s flight crew announces. A handful of travelers—with their book bags and their wheeled carry-ons, all full of the assorted contents each respective person believed she needed to feel at home while she was away—begin to stand.
“So, what’s the game plan?” Jonah asks, his eyes down on his phone screen while he searches for a new return flight. “You’ll come home after finals in a few weeks, and then ...”
“I was thinking I’d apply to some schools a bit closer to home for the fall semester,” Maggie explains as she nibbles through her last cookie. She wears her hunter-green crewneck sweatshirt, the one with the word Vermont emblazoned across the chest. “And, in the meantime, I thought I’d look for some part-time work in town. Maybe I can pick up a waitressing gig at one of the restaurants. Or get a few shifts at the bookstore or something.”
Ellie can’t help it. Her lips lift themselves into a wide U shape.
“What?” Maggie asks, her eyes narrowing at her mother’s facial expression.
“Funny story,” Ellie tells her. “But, as it turns out, I was thinking about picking up a few shifts there for myself, too.”
“You were?” Jonah and Maggie both ask.
“I was,” Ellie informs them. “Just a little something,” she explains. “Start getting my feet wet again, you know?”
Jonah taps a finger to his screen, slides his phone away. “You’d better hurry, then, and get over there before the new owner takes over.”
“New owner?” Ellie asks as more travelers move around them and join the boarding line.
“You didn’t hear?” Jonah says, the curves of his arms evident beneath his T-shirt’s sleeves. “That old couple recently sold it. They’ve had a sign about it in the window for weeks.”
“Oh.” Ellie tightens the knot on her cardigan, which she’s tied around her waist. “I guess I’ve been in a bit of a fog,” she admits. “I never noticed.”
Above them, the speakers boom to life once again. “All remaining passengers are now invited to begin the boarding process.”
Maggie balls her sweatshirt sleeves into her fists, an old nervous habit dating back to her childhood. “Well, I guess that’s me.”
Ellie pulls her daughter in for a hug. “You’ll be back home soon,” she reminds her. “Until then, try to enjoy it, all right?”
Maggie nods her face against her mother’s shoulder. “All right.”
“Come here, kiddo!” Jonah announces and wraps his arms around them both. “We’ll see you soon, okay?” he says and playfully rumples Maggie’s head of long hair. “I’ll pull out some of our old board games for when you get back.”
Maggie, wearing a half smile, joins the line. Ellie and Jonah watch as she hands the woman at the check-in desk her credentials. Before she steps into the passenger bridge, she turns back to face her parents one more time. “I’ll see you guys soon,” she tells them and tugs at a strand of her long, straight hair. “I promise to text you both when I land.”
Maggie joins the remaining travelers then and moves forward toward her plane.
Back at the gate, Jonah reaches down and squeezes Ellie’s hand.
“You okay?” he asks as Maggie disappears into the tunnel.
Sometimes, Ellie acknowledges now, letting go doesn’t always have to mean saying goodbye. It can also mean giving someone the space she needs to discover something for and about herself.
“I am,” Ellie says.
A little while later, Ellie sits in a turquoise-colored chair in the center of the terminal. All around her are fast-food booths and clusters of potted palm trees—what’s real and what’s artificial coexisting together in this place. Above her, the ceiling is made of glass. Sunlight filters through it and casts a series of long, illuminated rectangles across the airport’s green patterned carpet. Ellie glances around her current surroundings and takes it all in. Throughout the well-lit seating area, this in-between space meant for both travelers who are coming and others who are going, the line between who’s arriving and who’s departing, whose journey has just ended and whose is about to begin, all blends together here.
While she waits, Ellie reaches toward the floor and pulls her phone out from the side pocket of her book bag, the one she’s hardly used in days. On the top right of the screen, she sees that the device is still holding on with one last bit of power. Ellie swipes it open, hoping there’s enough still there for her to do one final thing before this journey is over and she returns home.
Ellie is not someone who spends much time on social media. Even so, she cannot deny the fact that it is vastly impressive. It takes only seconds for Ellie to locate her. Gabby—in her real, present-day life—stares back at her through the screen. It’s a photo of her in front of a wall of books, her fingernails still as purple as ever and pressed to her chin, her wild hair clipped back from her face with a colorful jeweled barrette. Based on her profile description, she now lives in another, different part of their shared home state.
The message Ellie sends is brief.
Hey, Gabby. Hopefully you remember me! It’s been a while, huh? Anyway, I thought of you the other day and wondered how you’re doing. I hope you’re well. If you’re ever in town (yes, I’m still here), feel free to reach out. It’d be nice to see you and have a coffee or something.
She slides her phone back into her bag. No sooner than she does, it pings.
Ellie! What a weird coincidence, Gabby almost immediately replies. I was thinking about you the other day, too! This is so random, but I’m moving back to the area this summer. You’ll never believe this, but I actually just bought the bookstore in town, the one where you used to work! I’m heading there next week to take measurements. I’ll contact you. I’d love to catch up!
Before Ellie can respond, her phone dies. She zips it away inside her bag and then leans back in her tropical-hued vinyl chair. Nearby, a little girl dressed in a Cinderella costume and light-up sneakers races past.
“We’re here!” the child shouts, over and over, like the chorus to a song. “We’re heeeeere!”
The girl’s mother laughs at her daughter’s enthusiasm and quickly snaps a photo. She turns to Ellie and shrugs. “What can I say?” the woman announces, never once apologizing. “She’s waited a long time for this.” She smiles. “We both have.”
Ellie nods her understanding and watches the family race to the airport’s monorail, the one that will bring them to the baggage claim.
“Here,” a voice says behind her.
She turns and finds that Jonah, who’d gone off to the bathroom, has returned.
“Oh, dear God,” she says and blinks wildly, just to be sure she’s seeing things correctly. “What—what are you wearing ?” she gasps.
“What?” Jonah tugs the bottom hem of his neon-orange T-shirt—the word Florida boldly emblazoned across its front in equally bright block letters—which he must have slipped on while in the restroom. “You don’t like it?” He tosses a small bag at Ellie. “That’s too bad, since I picked up a matching one for you, too.”
Ellie can’t help but laugh. The shirt is awful. Her father, she privately acknowledges, would love it. “I’m not wearing that!”
“Come on,” he says. “You always wanted us to wear matching shirts when Maggie was little, but we never did.” He raises a brow, challenging her. “Why not start now?”
Still smirking, Ellie slips hers on over her white T-shirt. “This is hideous,” she says with a smile.
“I know,” Jonah agrees. “It really is.”
Above them, the airport’s vast speaker system buzzes with a new announcement.
“So, listen,” Jonah begins, his tone shifting into a different, more subdued gear. “I tried, but I couldn’t get us on any flight out today. The earliest available isn’t until late tomorrow afternoon.”
Ellie feels her shoulders slump.
“But, in the meantime,” he continues, “I came up with a good plan B.”
Her head tilted, Ellie feels her face curl into a question.
“I found us a room at a hotel nearby,” he explains. “There’s a nice pool with one of those lazy rivers, a few good restaurants. Before we head back home, let’s go spend some time together. Just us.”
Thirty-five thousand choices. There are so many opportunities every single day to open new doors and to close old ones. To walk the tightrope that divides free will and fate. To choose which version of your life you want to live.
“Okay,” Ellie says and then collects her things. “Yes. Let’s do that.”
Together, they walk toward the monorail with a sea of other travelers. Through the windows, Ellie observes the train pulling into the terminal’s tube. The electronic doors slide open. A group of happy families, all ready to embark on whatever new memories await them, flood out.
Ellie and Jonah take a few steps. Before they make it far, a new expression molds itself across his face. She tilts her chin and, as if he’s a good book, tries to analyze him.
“What?” Ellie’s heartbeat flutters in her neck. “What is it?”
Jonah smiles, though it’s curious—equal parts joy and sadness. “I just—” He cuts himself off, shakes his head. “It’s nothing,” he decides. “Really. It’s silly.”
A feeling. The one she’s felt more than once in recent days, every time she’s stood at the precipice of another unexpected something. Everything inside her chest—her breath, her heart—quickens. “Tell me,” she says, already prepared for one last unwanted twist.
Jonah pulls in a deep breath. “I don’t know why, but I haven’t been able to shake this memory all weekend.”
“A memory?” Ellie asks, surprised. “Of what?”
He laughs. “Of this silly drawing Maggie used to make when she was a kid.” His gaze is suddenly far away, as if lost in another time. “It was this little sun wearing sunglasses.” A trace of grief hangs along his smile. “For a while there, it was the only thing she ever drew.” He pauses, remembering. “Do you know which one I mean?”
Ellie laughs, too. Do you know which one I mean? As if she could ever forget.
“I do,” she says.
“Anyway, I don’t know why that popped into my head.” He flips up his hands. “Now and again, memories like that just sort of come back at random times, don’t they?”
Ellie nods. “All the time, actually.” Her heartbeat slows. There are no more unexpected turns in this story. Not now. Not ever, hopefully. “I remember things like that constantly.”
Ahead of them, the crowd moves forward.
“Come on,” Jonah says with a smirk. “Enough about the past.” He takes her hand. When he does, it feels like home. He feels like home. “We don’t want to miss this train.”
As they filter inside, Ellie sees the large electronic departures board beyond the monorail’s windows, and the clock displayed on its upper corner.
1:11 p.m.
Not quite the right time, though it’s close enough.
“Please stand clear of doors and hold on to handrails,” an automated voice announces overhead. “The doors are now closing.”
Briefly, she shuts her eyes and makes her wish, knowing there’s no reason left for her to wait. When she’s done, she reopens them and then turns to face the train’s glass front side. Outside, the world is all blue sky and concrete and palm trees. She smiles, thinking of where they’ve been and where they’re headed.
“The doors are now closed,” the voice says as they slide shut.
She considers asking him more about that memory, and others, but decides some stories are best left untold. Instead, Ellie keeps her gaze straight ahead. She wants to see what destiny awaits them.
This time, whatever it is, she knows that she’s ready for it.