Chapter 23
Luckily, there was very little traffic on the way to LAX. And as we flew down the half-empty freeway, I was torn over whether that was a good thing.
I knew it was good in the sense that I really didn’t have a lot of time to spare before getting on this plane, especially since I had to check a bag. But it was bad because time seemed to be speeding up, counting down the minutes I had left to spend here—both in LA and with Russell.
It was like we had so much to say that we weren’t saying any of it, just focusing on the logistics—which lane was moving faster, and if he could get over to it. But once we hit the 105—the freeway that would take us to the airport—the moment had finally arrived.
“Is your mom going to be mad?” I glanced down at my phone to look at the time—the Bronco had an analog clock, and this was just easier. “I bet she expected you home hours ago. When was your dad’s plane supposed to land?”
“I called her while you were locking up the house and got Gordon instead. He promised he’d tell her I was on my way, so hopefully he’ll soften the blow.”
I blinked, feeling like I’d missed something. “Wait—who’s Gordon?”
“He’s my mom’s partner. I mentioned him, didn’t I?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “He—lives with you?”
“Most of the time. He’s an artist, and has a place in Taos.…”
“Oh. Well—that’s cool.” I looked out the window, trying to get my head around it. So Russell basically had a stepfather he hadn’t mentioned. It was fine—we just hadn’t had that much time, that’s all.
Russell tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, looking at the freeway—wide-open and empty—ahead of us. “But my mom is really not going to be happy if I tell her I’m not going to Michigan in a week.”
“Really?” I turned on the seat so that I could face him a little more fully. “You’re—considering it?”
Russell glanced away from the road and gave me a half smile. “Turning it over in my mind. I am going to have to make a decision soon, though, huh?”
“I mean, you can probably take a day,” I said, and Russell laughed. “Maybe two?”
“But,” he said, glancing over at me. “If I decide not to go, my dad’s in New York all the time. It’s where Sydney and Connor and Dashiell live. So I could see you really easily. And even if I’m in Michigan, we can figure it out. Right?”
“Right,” I said automatically. “Totally.” I knew that Russell was saying everything right. He was following what, a day ago, I would have believed was the best and most romantic way for this story to go. Two people meeting by chance and then building something lasting off that one magical night. It was in all the stories I always swooned over—everything I wanted to believe was true. But now…
“You could come to campus and stay in my… dorm,” I said, hesitating over the last word when I realized I didn’t even know what to imagine when I said it. I had no idea what the campus would be like, or where I would be unpacking my things tomorrow morning. I couldn’t even picture myself there—how could I picture Russell?
“Totally,” Russell echoed, his voice slightly strained as he gave me a quick smile, then turned back to the road.
I looked out the window, waiting for a surge of excitement to follow this, butterflies swooping around in my stomach. But it didn’t come.
And even though it went against every movie I’d watched and what my instincts only yesterday would have been, I realized that this probably shouldn’t happen. That I shouldn’t be trying to figure out a brand-new potential relationship while also starting one of the biggest transitions of my life at the same time.
“That all sounds… really wonderful,” I said after a moment, finding my words as I was speaking them. “It sounds like just what I would have wanted, not that long ago.”
Russell glanced over at me, his smile falling away from his face, like a wave retreating from shore. “But?”
“I don’t know.” I looked down at my hands, twisting together in my lap, and tried to gather my thoughts. “I really like you. So much. It’s just…” I took a breath, trying to get this in some kind of order. “How long have Wallace and his girlfriend been together? The one who’s in Hawaii?”
“Uh,” Russell said, looking a little thrown by this change of subject as he put on his turn signal for the exit that would take us to the airport. “Two years, I think? Why?”
“It just kind of seems like they were having some trouble keeping things going.”
“What are you saying?” There was a red light at the intersection of Aviation and Century, and Russell looked over at me.
“Just that… a potential long-distance thing is hard enough when you have some kind of foundation. And we would have a day.”
“Not a normal day, though,” he pointed out, shaking his head. “Come on.”
“No, I know,” I said, nodding.
There was a honk behind us, and we both looked to see that the light had turned green. Russell drove forward, and I moved a little closer to him on the bench seat. “It’s just… I’m going to have to get settled at school, and see what things look like with Gillian. And you’re either going to be starting school or writing the next Great American Musical.” A smile flitted across Russell’s face, and then it was gone. “And that’s a lot of pressure to put on something really new.”
“So, what,” Russell asked, moving into the right lane for the airport entrance. “This is just… over? Right now?”
“I don’t know,” I said unhappily, my heart clenching at the thought of it. “I’m just not sure what the right thing to do here is.” I didn’t know if I could take the idea that I would never see him or talk to him again. However, I also had a feeling that if we tried to stretch our time together—our one day—over weeks and months, it would all start to fall apart and taint the memory of what we’d had. I wanted there to be some other solution—I just wasn’t sure that I could see one.
When we’d first started driving, Russell had asked me what airline I was flying—JetBlue. And as we made our way through the warren of terminals at LAX, I’d expected he would just drop me off. But he signaled to turn into short-term parking, right across from the terminal. “You don’t have to park. I can just get off at the curb.”
“Didn’t you say you wanted someone at the airport to watch you go, and be sad you were leaving?”
I smiled at that, and Russell found parking on the second level of the structure. He lifted my roller-bag suitcase out of the car easily, which was impressive because it was not light. I reached out to take it, but he just smiled as he raised up the handle. “Let me be gallant for just a little while longer.”
I nodded and gave him a smile that couldn’t help but turn sad at the edges. “Thank you.”
We took the elevator down, along with a bickering couple and their small dog, and when we stepped out to walk across the street to the terminal, he reached over and took my hand in his.
I realized, as we stood there holding hands, waiting for the light to change, that this was the first time we’d done this. Just held hands, walking next to each other. It felt so simple, and so right, our palms lining up perfectly and fitting together so easily. I gave his hand a squeeze just as the light changed and we walked across the crosswalk together.
For a second, I wondered how we would look to someone else. Probably just like a normal couple, saying goodbye at the airport. Probably nobody would have guessed we’d only met a day and change ago. That we’d been through so much together and had somehow ended up here, in a crowd of travelers, everyone else flying off as well—to their own adventures or weddings or business trips or funerals. Just one story among so many.
We walked together through the automatic doors and were hit with a blast of air-conditioning. The lines to check in and drop off bags thankfully weren’t terrible—which was good, since I had a feeling I was nearing the cutoff time.
I had expected that this was where Russell and I would say goodbye, but he just stepped into the line with me. When we reached the front of the line, he hung back as I approached the counter and handed them my ID and heaved my bag onto the scale.
“Red-eye to JFK?” the woman behind the counter asked, her fingers flying over her keyboard. “You just made it for checked bags.”
“That’s great,” I said, breathing out a sigh of relief.
“Here you go,” she said, handing me a boarding pass and my license back. “Boarding in half an hour.”
“Thank you,” I said as I walked away from the counter.
“No problems?” Russell asked.
“We made it under the wire.”
“Oh good.”
We stood there for a second—very much in the way and not where we were supposed to be standing. When a guy in a sweat suit, pulling a rolling suitcase, sighed very loudly as he went around us, I knew we had to find someplace else to be.
I nodded toward the area that led to the security line—there were a few little benches, tucked away in a darkened corner, and that seemed like as good a place as any to have an un-fun conversation.
“Fun fact,” Russell said. He gave me a smile, but I could tell his heart wasn’t really in it. “Back in the olden days, you used to be able to go with people right up to their gates and say goodbye. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
I nodded. It really did. I could barely picture it, but it truly would have been better to have this conversation sitting in chairs by a gate, maybe with a Jamba Juice, knowing that we could talk up until the minute my flight was called, not having to try to calculate how long the security line would be and how far away my gate was. Or maybe not. Maybe this was going to be hard no matter where we were and if we had smoothies or not.
“Do you—regret what happened?” he asked, his brow furrowed as he looked down at me.
“No,” I said immediately, knowing it was the truth. “Not at all. It was a day I’ll never, ever forget.”
“Me neither,” Russell said, giving me a sad smile.
“I really do care about you so much. And it’s not like I want this to be the end,” I said, needing to make sure that he understood me. “I just don’t think it makes sense to try to stretch this out. Do you?”
“I do need to decide what I’m going to do next year,” he said slowly. “And even though everything in me is saying we should just go for this, it…” He shook his head and drew in a shaky breath.
“What is it?”
“I think I need to get out of my own way a bit,” he said, his voice hesitant, like this was a brand-new thought he was exploring. “I turned in the last musical, even though I knew it wasn’t ready. Because if it wasn’t my best, I wouldn’t actually have to see how I compared with my dad. And while it’s so tempting to just jump into this with you… maybe I should actually focus on writing a new sample. So that I can change things in my life and stop hiding from it.”
“Yeah.” I looked over at his hands, hanging by his side, and thought about how easily he’d taken mine in his just moments ago. Was that done now? Would I ever hold his hand again? “We could… go back to being friends?”
“I don’t think we were very good at being just friends.”
“We really weren’t,” I said with a laugh. And then it faded out, and it was just the two of us, standing across an ever-widening chasm from each other.
“Well,” Russell said after a moment. He nodded up toward the security line, which was starting to get worryingly long. “I guess you should go.”
“Yeah,” I said, even as my throat closed around the word. I knew all too well that I’d brought this on myself. I’d invited him in the house, I’d kissed him, I’d brought him up to my room and made this all that much harder for both of us.
I stepped toward Russell and he stepped toward me, and pulled me into a tight hug. I hugged him back, and let my head rest on his shoulder for just a moment, breathing him in. His arms tightened around me and he lifted me off my feet. But then he set me back down and took a step away.
“You’re going to crush it. Connecticut isn’t going to know what hit it.”
“You too,” I said. “Whatever you decide to do. It’s going to be so great. I know it.”
He gave me a sad smile. “Fly safe.”
I nodded and gave him a smile back, one I didn’t at all feel. “Thanks. I will. I mean—I’ll try? It’s really not up to me, but I’ll mention your request to the pilot.”
He laughed, then gestured to the uncomfortable-looking metal benches. “I’ll just wait here, in case you need anything. Just for a few minutes.”
I nodded, even as I could feel tears pricking my eyes. People passed by on either side of us, nobody paying the slightest bit of attention. An emotional goodbye in an airport was probably as ordinary as seven-dollar bottles of water. And for a second, I flashed to all the running-through-the-airport scenes that were a staple of my romantic movies. It always ended with an airport chase, right? It was only when someone was about to fly away that you found the courage to tell them how you felt. “That’s really nice of you.”
He gave me a smile and a half nod. “Take care, okay?”
“You too.” I reached out and gave his hand a squeeze, and he lifted mine to his lips and kissed it, not breaking eye contact with me. I stayed there for just a moment longer—my hand in Russell’s, our eyes saying all the things we weren’t—but then took a step back. I really did need to go. “Bye,” I made myself say.
And then I turned and headed for the stairs that would take me up to the security line, feeling like my heart was much heavier than it had been just minutes before. I told myself I wasn’t going to look back. It was cliché and trite, and also I had a feeling that if I did, and saw Russell looking after me, watching me go, waiting to see that I was all right, it would be that much harder to actually leave. But there was no alternative—the plane was going to take off, and I was going to be on it.
I glanced down at the check-in line, where the guy in the sweat suit was having an argument with the same woman who’d checked me in. Probably he’d brought his bag in too late, and missed his window.
As I climbed the stairs, I tried to think about what would have happened if I’d also been too late. What could even be done at that point? But a second later, the answer came to me, as clear as anything. Russell would have volunteered to help me. He would have driven my bag back, even though it was the opposite direction for him, and left it at my house so my dad could get it to me.
Of course he would have volunteered to do it—he wouldn’t even have hesitated. I somehow knew that this was the way it would have gone, as surely as if it had actually happened. And that revelation was enough to literally stop me in my tracks.
What a good person he was. How if he could have done something to help me, he would. And how if our situations had been reversed, I would have done the same for him.
And realizing this, it felt like something I shouldn’t push away or let go by.
Was this me, once again, seeing everything in black and white? Thinking that something either had to be a long-distance relationship or nothing?
And just like that, I could see beyond the black and white to a potential shade of gray.
Looking around, I saw Russell get up and start to walk away.
For once, I didn’t overthink it or hesitate.
I just turned so I was heading down the stairs, toward him.
And then I ran.