Chapter 53 Ari
Ari
As soon as the plane door opens, I start shaking.
My palms sweat. My throat is dry.
Vincent slips his hand into mine. “It’s okay,” he murmurs in my ear. “I got you. I ain’t lettin’ you go. You ain’t lettin’ me go. It’s us.”
I nod, but my body doesn’t listen. My knees feel weak as we step into the jet bridge. The hum of the airport grows louder with every step, a mix of machines, voices, and life. It’s too much after the quiet I’m used to.
At the end of the bridge, a black man in a suit greets us. Vincent tightens his grip on my hand.
“Yall kept the media out?”
The man nods. “Yes sir. Everything is contained.”
Vincent nods once, then follows the man into the airport, then down a series of hallways. We stop at a door guarded by security.
Vincent takes a deep breath, looks at me, and raises his eyebrows.
I nod at him, he nods at security.
Then the door opens.
The noise hits first. Gasps. Screaming. Crying.
Then it all happens at once.
A woman and a little boy run towards Vincent. His fiancée. His son.
He drops my hand instantly.
I stand there, frozen, my heart sinking as my family runs to me.
Ashara reaches me first. My other half. She grabs me in a hug, but I don’t even feel it. I’m not present. Mentally, I’m still with Vincent, holding his hand, watching him go back to his family.
Ashara’s crying so hard, she’s gasping for air. I hug her back, shaking as my own tears begin to flow. Then my parents appear—Mom clutching my face, Daddy hugging me from behind. Both of them sobbing. My nieces pile in on either side, squealing and crying louder than everybody else.
For a few minutes, it’s chaos. Beautiful, unbearable chaos.
When the dust finally settles, the room feels different. It’s too quiet. Too aware. My family stands there awkwardly, eyes darting back and forth between my belly and each other.
“Congratulations,” my Mom says softly. “We’re so glad you and the baby made it home safely.”
I nod, wondering when they found out. Did the embassy tell them? Vincent’s team? Or did I just surprise the hell out of them? It’s all so confusing.
I glance across the room to see Vincent surrounded by his family.
Two women are crying so hard, they can barely stand.
One collapses to the floor, and I can only assume it’s his sister.
Her grief is visceral. I tear up again at the sight of it.
And Vincent—he’s holding both of them as best he can as tears stream down his face.
God, it hurts seeing him in so much pain.
And now the baby is moving.
Daddy clears his throat. “We rented an Airbnb,” he says. “We’re gonna take you there and let you rest up before we take you home.”
I nod, still staring at Vincent. But I can’t get to him, not with my family and his family in the way. All I can do is put one foot in front of the other as my family ushers me out of the room.
The Airbnb is small and cozy. I don’t know why they rented on the beach, but I’m not mad at it. I need the sound of the waves. That’s what I’m used to.
As soon as they show me where I’m sleeping, I strip down and damn near run to the shower. My first hot shower in months.
It’s heavenly.
After, I step out onto the fuzzy bath mat and wrap a towel around myself. It takes a few minutes for the steam to clear, but it's probably for the best.
My reflection is jarring.
Despite my pregnancy, my face is thinner. Under my eyes? Dark and hollow. My skin looks crepey and weather-beaten, and my hair is half-braids, half new growth.
I've seen enough.
I put on underwear and crawl under the covers, yanking them over my head, shutting out the world.
I think maybe this happened too fast. Because for the life of me, I can’t understand why I’m not happy. Why I’m not relieved. Instead, I just feel like I’m trapped between two pillars of my life: before the island and after the island.
It’s sounds crazy to even think it, but maybe we should have been…slowly weaned off. Maybe spent one more night there together and then sailed away slowly on a boat instead of being airlifted out like it was a battlefield. Because it wasn’t. It was our home.
Something is wrong with me.
“Hey. You hungry?”
I peek out over the top of the comforter and see my other half.
“Mom said to leave you alone, but you know I ain’t listenin’ to her.”
I chuckle at that. “I’m always hungry.”
“Okay. Good. Dinner’s ready.”
I nod, but I don’t move.
“Do you wanna eat up here?” she asks, her face etched with worry. “Do you want some water? Or your vitamins?”
“I’m okay,” I snap. “Just…let me breathe.”
She frowns at that.
I pull myself up to a semi-recline, resting my back against the fabric tufted headboard. “When did y'all find out I was alive?”
Shara sits at the foot of the bed. “Last night.” She blows out a sigh. “It was a crazy night.”
“How’d they find us? Had they been searching this whole time?”
“No, they stopped searching, like, a month after,” she says, shaking her head. “It was the end of March, I think. Daddy’s the one who hired the private search team.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah. He cashed in his 401k.”
I stare at my sister in disbelief. “You know what’s funny? I joked about that to myself early on. That Daddy might do that.”
She nods. “He did it. He said he knew you were still out there. He could feel it.”
She stares at my belly, but she doesn’t say anything about the elephant in the room.
Mom and Daddy walk in. Both of their eyes are red and puffy.
“I’m coming down to eat,” I say. “Just slow moving.”
“No rush,” Daddy says. “Whenever you’re ready.”
It’s silent for a beat, and then I blurt it out.
“Whatever y'all are thinking, just say it. Get it out of the way.”
They exchange looks.
“Say what?” Shara says.
I shoot her a look. “About me being pregnant.”
Mom smiles at that. “What’s there to say? We all know where babies come from.”
“Yeah, but—“
“We got time to deal with all that,” Daddy says. “Right now, we just want you to relax and rest.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, irritated for a reason I can’t put my finger on. “Where’s my phone?”
They exchange more looks.
“Are you sure?” my mother asks.
“Yep. I’m sure.”
A minute later, she hands it over.
A few seconds after it powers up, notifications flood the screen.
The first one being a text from Vincent.
I won’t even waste time wondering how he got my number. The important thing is that he’s already on some bullshit.
Why u leave w/o saying bye
I swipe it away and scroll aimlessly, trying not to think, and since Instagram is a great place to be mindless, it get my attention first.
Not even three scrolls down, I see it:
Rapper Villain Found Alive with Pregnant Flight Attendant after 268 Days
My stomach drops.
Ashara frowns knowingly, then looks at my parents, who exit the room quickly.
“Okay, they’re gone,” she says. “I’m asking.”
“Well, obviously it’s his baby.”
She smiles. “You love him.”
I stare blankly. “Do I, though? Maybe we’re just trauma bonded.”
Her eyes narrow. “You think that’s all it is?”
“I don’t know.” I press my palm to my stomach. “We’ve only been off the island two days and it already feels different.”
She puts her hand on top of mine. “How far along are you?”
“I won’t know until I see a doctor. Which is something me and him should be doing together.”
“I’m sure he will.” She squeezes my hand. “Didn’t he lose family on that flight? He’s probably barely holding it together. Give him some time.”
I nod, knowing she’s right, but also feeling unsure. I don’t know if I have any time to give. I could be seven months. Eight months. Days from delivery.
This is so frustrating.
"When did y'all find out I was pregnant?" I ask.
"Girl." She smiles, shaking her head like she's about let me in on the gossip. "When you walked in."
"Seriously?"
"Mm hm."
I sit with that for a minute, stunned that my family played it off so well.
“Did you see her?" I say. "His fiancée?”
She nods. “I’d seen her before, though. On the blogs.”
“She’s pretty.”
“She ain’t prettier than us,” Shara says. “And also, we’re not doing this.”
“What?”
“Comparing ourselves.”
“You do know we’re two different people, right?”
“You wish.” She stands and stretches. “Whenever you’re ready, come eat. Daddy made your favorite. We’ll wait for you.”
Once she’s gone, I open my messages. My fingers hover for a minute, then I type.
We’ll talk soon
I hit send, set the phone facedown, and get up, pulling a nightgown over my head. The spaghetti and catfish smell like God himself made me my first welcome home meal.
I descend the staircase carefully, trying not to think about the moment Vincent dropped my hand.