Someday Never Came

Chapter Seven

The moment I’m within walking distance of him, something shifts within me. All the anxiety, stress, and chaotic ball of emotions I’ve been feeling leading up to this moment—to the last several hours—vanish and transform into something unexpected. Something definite.

Time passes as row upon row of passengers deplane in front of me, all eager to escape this death trap of a plane. Part of me feels glued to this seat, 18A, knowing if I just stay here, the nagging feeling won’t matter anymore. I remind myself: nothing bad can happen. He can’t hurt me like before, not unless I allow him that much power over me again. Before I know it, I am walking down the plane’s center aisle and nodding to the flight attendant standing by the door. She smiles sweetly, attempting to be reassuring as my feet guide me down the ramp, toward security, then to baggage claim. Every movement is sluggish, as if I’m in a hazy dream.

It’s a fever dream of sorts, the kind I used to have of Jensen. The sort of dream where he shows up with flowers, telling me how big of a mistake he made all those years ago as he asks me to forgive him. Instead of a dream, this is reality, a reality I repeatedly pray doesn’t destroy me in the end. A reality where I came to him in a town that reminds me of everything I lost.

A town full of confusion, heartache, and regrets.

I watch as luggage circles around on the carousel, passengers quickly grab their bags and hurry to catch taxis, eager to check into fancy beach front resorts and start their summer vacations. Everyone around me is excited, chattering among friends and family. Everyone is ready to have a relaxing week on the beach or a big celebration in honor of the fourth of July. Part of me is jealous of the energy vibrating throughout the airport. Any other day, the energy would be breathing life into me. A contagious sort of thrill arises in people this time of year, but my mind isn’t focusing on the energy around me.

My heart pounds in my chest, he’s here somewhere. For the first time since boarding the plane, a new possible outcome washes over me, crashing into me like a cold wave and filling me with dread: what if he’s not here? What if Jensen talked me into coming back and bought my ticket, only to vanish and never be heard from again.

“No! Stop thinking like that. Let’s get a grip on those abandonment issues, shall we, Serena?” I whisper before realizing I’m no longer alone.

Jensen is here, that much I know—I can feel him. There’s no logical explanation to the sudden reaction my body has when he’s near, there’s no explanation to the silence taking over within my mind before ringing starts in my ears. The temporary ringing is one thing I have only ever experienced with him. Its relentless chiming is as if our souls are calling to one another once more. It is the sound of my soul yearning for its other half—only ever being whole in each other’s presence. I often wonder if he experiences the ringing as well or if he can drown it out somehow. Did his ringing slowly disappear once we are back into each other’s grasp like mine did for him?

Drowning out his presence was never something I was capable of, maybe because I never fought the feelings like he had. I never fought the fact I was only ever truly his, despite the declaration in my texts to only remain friends. I tried to convince myself over the last decade everything I ever felt for him was built up in my mind as pure imagination—that it was just nostalgia twisting a childhood friend to lovers’ trope into more than it truly was. All the damn romance books finally turned my mind to mush and allowed my sentimental heart to run amuck. I had tried to convince myself that what took place between Jensen and I was nothing more than a young girl’s fantasy, a foolish teenage dream, or a young woman’s last-ditch effort to hold onto pure, idealistic, reckless love. The type of love people only experience once: a true first love. But, here—in this airport now, as every hair stands on end and tiny goosebumps cover my entire body—I know our love is real and that it has always been real.

Slowly—as if my feet are unsure or wary of what might come next—I take a deep breath, forcing myself to release it before taking a step away from the carousel. My mind—the more cautious part of me—begs my feet to stay in place. It begs me to take second to consider the possibly life altering moment that is mere seconds away from occurring, but my heart . . . my stupid heart flutters.

My soul grows impatient at my momentary pause, ready to be reunited with its other half. I take another deep breath—one final second to myself—knowing once I turn around and lock eyes with him there will be no going back, even if I want to.