Chapter 12
chapter twelve
Jude
Today's vocabulary word: subtext
It didn't blow over.
The outage gridlocked everything everywhere for several hours.
Gate desks were shut down and agents went into hiding while the stranded contemplated their options.
More than half of all flights were canceled and all the others were substantially delayed.
Commercial airplanes weren't my niche but I knew enough people in the industry to find out which regions were hardest hit and when fixes might be in place.
By some miracle, Boston came back online right around the time Audrey started giving me pointed stares between the loops she walked from one end of the terminal to the other.
I did everything I could to get us on a flight to Salt Lake City since the earliest availability for Phoenix wasn't for two days.
It meant a long drive down to Sedona, but the only other options were Boise or Boulder.
I had a lot of tricks up my sleeve but convincing Audrey to spend a minimum of thirteen hours in a car with me after this hellish start wasn't one of them. This would work. It had to work.
Except the flight to Salt Lake was delayed with an aircraft issue and we'd need to wait for another plane—which was also delayed.
When that announcement came through, Audrey crossed her arms over her chest and flicked a glance at me.
Her teeth pressed into her bottom lip the way she did when she was deciding what to say.
I could see her commitment to this experiment flagging.
One more delay, one more setback, and she'd be on her way to that sweet little house outside the city in no time at all.
She'd say something gentle like it wasn't meant to be.
That the universe was sending us a sign by taking down a national air control network and then fucking up every available plane.
And maybe this was a sign. A huge, blinking sign reminding me that I was making irreversible mistakes. But the universe liked fucking with me. It was a good thing I'd learned how to fuck right back.
"It's time for lunch. We should find something to eat," I said, grabbing the handle of her bag and leading her toward the string of restaurants at the head of the terminal.
"What are you in the mood for? We've got a brewery, burgers, seafood, and something with an artsy logo I can't read from here. "
"Artsy logo, every time," she murmured. "But I can take my—"
She reached for the rolling case but I shifted it to my other hand. "I got it. Let's go."
We were seated at a quiet table deep in the restaurant, far from the terminal noise.
"It's nice to sit down and breathe," she said, spreading a napkin over her lap. "Without all that"—she waved a hand to the terminal, shuddering—"drama."
"If it matters, I travel at least once a month and this is the most drama I've seen in years."
"I could never do that," she said. "Too much stress."
I watched as she sipped her water and straightened the silverware before turning to the menu.
Her expression shifted with each item she read.
Eyes brightening, tiny smiles, little nods, quick shakes of her head.
Studying her like this scratched an itch in me I didn't entirely understand.
I had a hard time moving on from simply drinking her in.
"After a while, I started thinking of it as part of the commute," I said. "I hardly notice it anymore. And I have millions of frequent flier miles."
She spared me a glance before returning to the menu. "I would think it would be difficult to travel that much with a small child at home."
"It is," I agreed. "But being based in Virginia now means most of my travel is no more than a train ride away, and longer trips I'm usually able to hold for when Percy's with his grandmother. If all else fails, the nanny doesn't mind staying the night."
"The nanny," Audrey murmured. "Why didn't you hire her for this adventure? I have to imagine it would've been much simpler."
I stared at the spill of pale blonde hair over her shoulder. I still wasn't used to seeing it down but I liked it. It felt more like her than the ballerina bun ever had. "Wayne's been a lifesaver for us, but I don't think he'd go for that."
"Wayne," she repeated.
I'd take another hellish day of flight delays just to watch her gulp down the realization that Wayne wasn't some hot twenty-something au pair trying to slide into the mom spot but a retired firefighter in his fifties who handled my kid's attitude like no other and had a top secret pancake recipe that could open some doors in the world peace process.
"More importantly," I went on, "he's already off on a camping trip across the Canadian provinces with his partner, so he's not available."
"Well." She gave a short, high hum, a sound I recognized as the placeholder for everything she wanted to say but swallowed down instead. That single syllable was the cork on a pricey bottle of champagne one hard shake away from exploding. "It's good you have someone you can trust with Percy."
Before I could stop myself, a bitter laugh snapped out of me. "Wasn't always like that. I'll spare you the long-form account of our history with caretakers, but suffice it to say, not everyone is built to work with kids who have different needs."
Audrey started to respond but stopped herself when the server appeared. She ordered a rice bowl, holding half the ingredients listed on the menu, and I went with a burger. Airport restaurants could always be counted on to get a burger close enough to right.
"And a beer," I added. "Whatever's in season and on tap." To Audrey's arched brow, I held up my hands. "After the morning we've had?"
She considered this a moment before asking, "Do you have any hard cider?" The server rattled off five different options. "I'll try the Woodchuck. Thank you."
When we were alone again, Audrey ducked away from my attention and checked her phone.
I did the same and found seventeen texts from my mother.
It was clear she'd heard about the outage and mass cancellations, and was now thinking out loud as she rescheduled her dinner party plans for this evening.
There were a few from Percy too, though they fell into the General Complaints about Grandma's Food category.
I knew for a fact he had enough toaster waffles and chocolate hazelnut butter to survive a year with Brenda, so I wasn't going to stress over that one.
Our drinks arrived and Audrey pulled hers close, circling her hands around the glass as she stared at the tabletop.
A moment passed before she said, "You're right about not everyone being built for kids who require something different from us.
My student teaching supervisor was amazing like that.
Everyone loved Mrs. Carroll. Everyone wanted to be in her class.
Watching her in action was like—well, all I could think when I observed her was that I'd feel pretty happy about my teaching if I was half as good as her. "
I sipped my beer and nodded. My only goal was to keep her talking and I'd probably fuck that up if I opened my mouth.
"The thing that made her really incredible was that she could adapt to any kid's needs in the moment.
It didn't matter what the problem was because there was always a different way of reaching the endpoint.
" She glanced up at me. "It basically took all the things I'd learned in my elementary ed program about rigid performance goals and demonstration of mastery, and knocked it over.
" A shy smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. "And I liked that a lot."
"How'd you make your way into teaching?"
She leaned back against the booth, history rippling across her expression. "There came a point when I needed to make some changes," she said, her words measured.
When her marriage ended, she meant. I didn't push it because I knew she was one minor inconvenience away from telling me to have a nice life. But the subtext was clear and I was dying to suck the juice from every ounce of that story.
"I could've stayed at the ballet, but leaving San Diego was one of those changes I had to make.
There was nothing left for me there—or anywhere in California," she added.
"I wish I had a meaningful story about becoming inspired to shape young minds or make a difference.
Most of my friends have stories like that.
But I just read a book where the protagonist was an elementary school teacher and it struck me that it was something I could do.
Maybe even do well." She laughed. "Looking back on it, I realize it wasn't a very accurate portrayal of teaching. "
"But you're good at it."
She waved me off, a craggy little grin on her face. "Eh, it depends on the day—and the phase of the moon." At my confused huh? she added, "Kids are like baby werewolves. The full moons do a number on them. Trust me on this."
She finally took a sip of her cider, and I didn't know why I cared but I watched, waiting for her reaction. Didn't bother breathing for a minute. "All right?" I asked when she set the glass down.
"Mmm. Yeah." She nodded at the glass. "I'm not good at ordering. My friend Jamie is usually the one to mix the drinks and tell me what I'll like. I always forget."
"Is she the one getting married?"
"Oh, no," she said, laughing. "Jamie's never getting married.
It's Emme's wedding coming up. Or, her second wedding.
They eloped last spring and now they're having the big party.
" She smoothed her napkin a few times, her focus trained on her lap.
"The wedding is being held at this beautiful tulip farm in Rhode Island.
My friend Shay—she used to teach kindergarten down the hall from me—she and her husband own the farm.
It's stunning. I love it there. Sometimes I think about moving there. "
The food arrived and I stalled with my beer as Audrey picked at the bowl like she expected to find a severed finger in there.
I couldn't tell if she didn't trust airport kitchens or had stopped trusting food in general at some point.
It made zero sense but clearly mattered to her—and now it mattered to me too.
More than it should've, perhaps, but I'd never been good at limiting myself when it came to Audrey.
She took one delicate bite, chewed thoughtfully, then relaxed against the booth as if she'd won this battle. That little flicker of relief in her expression stuck with me as I turned my attention to the burger waiting on my plate.
"Is Emme a teacher too?" I asked between bites.
She went for another sip of the cider and said, "Yeah, she teaches second grade.
Jamie's in first. Grace used to teach third grade with us but she moved to a school with a better commute.
" She leaned in, her cheeks pink as a devious smile stretched across her face.
The cider was a good call. "We tried all year to gather up the new kindergarten and third-grade people for lunch but Jamie says we're too much for them. "
"Nothing about that surprises me."
"It should! Jamie might be a handful and Emme has some big opinions, but I bring baked goods at least three days a week. There's nothing overwhelming about someone handing out muffins and brookies."
I glanced at the thin gold chains that circled her neck, the baggy cardigan she wore over a t-shirt with fine navy stripes.
All very simple, but when paired with that cornsilk hair, cheekbones like she'd been chiseled from raw stone, and big hazel eyes, she was the source of all light in the room. And she still didn't know it.
"Give yourself a little more credit," I said.
"For what?"
I pointed a french fry at her. "Have you met yourself? You're intimidating as fuck."
"That is a wild exaggeration," she said primly.
I grabbed my phone and toggled to the calendar app. "When is this wedding again? I need to meet these women. See what happens when you join forces and multiply your powers. That might explain all those small earthquakes on the Eastern Seaboard recently."
"You should know it's a very exclusive guest list."
"If there's one thing I'm good at, it's showing up where I don't belong."
Audrey met my gaze, her eyes bright and warm like she could spar with me all day. Like she finally remembered that we knew how to do this. I found myself leaning forward, hoarding every last piece of her I could get because I knew I'd need them when this ended and all I had left were the memories.
"Trust me, I know all about that," she said.
Pressure rose in my chest again. Probably inhaled that burger a little too fast. I dragged in a breath but it didn't help.
"Tell me about Jamie," I said. "What kind of trouble could a first-grade teacher be? Really, Saunders, I don't know how you expect me to buy that."
Audrey ducked her head as she laughed, her napkin pressed to her mouth.
When she stopped, when she dropped the napkin to her lap, I found myself swallowed whole by a smile that was so full of love and adoration and devotion that I had to clear my throat and look away.
It hurt to see that radiating out of her and know it'd never be for me.
The pressure compounded in my chest as Audrey told me about Jamie and Emme, Grace and Shay.
She spoke in careful sidesteps where every reference to her cross-country move from San Diego and her teacher training program in Boston existed without mention of her ex, her divorce, or her family.
There was a great, dark canyon between the day I walked away from her in that church and when she touched down in Boston years later.
Cutting such wide margins around the past only made me hungrier for the details.
Tell me, honey. Tell me everything.
She didn't have to say it but it was obvious these women had stood by while she'd built this new version of herself brick by brick. My throat ached a bit when she talked about them plucking her out of her classroom and folding her into their group.
She wasn't one for collecting people in her life. She had to be collected, scooped up by the relentless ones who refused to let her drift on the sidelines.
There'd been a time when I was the one collecting her. I just didn't know if I could do it again.