Chapter Twenty-One Claire
Chapter Twenty-One
Claire
Man must rise above the Earth—to the top of the atmosphere and beyond—for only thus will he fully understand the world in which he lives.
—ATTRIBUTED TO SOCRATES
My roommates stand around me as I lie on the couch with my foot up.
Well, besides Sparrow, who is probably listening from her room.
I would love to have had this place to myself to heal, but they all just happen to arrive in town from working trips around the country, including but not limited to Duluth.
Besides the five roommates I’ve already met, there are four more.
Maritza is a Latina woman whose husband is deployed in the military. So that she can afford to visit him, she works for an international airline transporting troops. She even helped evacuate Afghanistan, which sounds worse than having your retinas scratched when getting mugged.
Ha-Yoon is Korean and middle-aged, though she doesn’t look much older than I do.
It could be her freckles. She also braids her hair when she works because in her past job as a waitress, it proved to get her better tips.
Unfortunately, when an auditor wrote her up earlier today, she discovered this isn’t allowed.
I’m not sure whether she’s feisty mad about it or this is her normal state of being.
Then there are “The Girls,” as Journey calls them.
Neither looks a day older than twenty-one, because they’re not—but that’s where the similarities end.
Dina is from Ethiopia and as willowy as she is bald, while Eshana is Indian and as short, round, and cuddly as a panda.
I can’t ever follow their conversations about pop culture, which makes me feel strangely old.
“Why were you running in high heels?” Brittany asks in her breathy voice.
“Our shuttle driver told me an awful story about his sister being mugged on a train in Chicago, and I was scared. But now I feel dumb.”
“It’s not dumb to listen to your intuition,” Vivienne says in my defense. “You don’t see a deer deciding to hang out with a wolf just because she doesn’t want to hurt the wolf ’s feelings.”
Sparrow pops her head out. “Every year over one million deer are hit by cars.” She disappears, then reappears. “But not because they’re wearing high heels.”
“Thanks for clarifying” is all I can think to say. I’m not exactly sure of the point she’s making. It’s a Google search gone wrong.
Sparrow nods once before retreating again.
Journey rolls her eyes at me. “Did you know deer don’t wear high heels?”
Maritza pats my shoulder. “Well, I’m glad you weren’t hurt worse. How much time did they give you off work?”
“Two days.” Not really enough time to fly home. Especially since I’m supposed to be elevating my leg.
Ha-Yoon shakes her head. “I’d argue for longer sick leave. You broke a bone running for your life, for goodness’ sake.”
I get the impression she would argue for the sake of arguing. “I’ll be fine.” I give a brave smile. “Though if anyone wants to cook me dinner tonight, I wouldn’t complain.”
That sends them all to the kitchen to fight over cheese and whatnot. Well, all except Sparrow. She’ll probably wait until the rest of us are asleep, then sneak out like a cat.
Oh, and Angel. She lifts my legs gingerly, sits on the sofa, then rests my calves across her lap. “So how are you really doing?”
I think she wants the gossip on Nathan. He drove me home and helped me hobble up the stairs. But I haven’t yet told her about her boyfriend.
I glance toward the kitchen to make sure everyone is out of earshot. They seem to be making so much noise that they can’t even hear each other.
I face Angel and curl the toes on my good foot. “How do you feel about cheaters?”
She gasps. “Did Nathan kiss you?”
“What?” I don’t need that image in my head. “No.”
She settles back down. “Oh, good. Because my opinion is that if someone’s not happy in their relationship, they should either commit to working on it or end it before starting a new one.”
I nod in agreement with her response. This bodes well for her not being privy to her boyfriend’s wife.
“Are you unhappy?” she asks.
“What?” I shake my head again. “Angel, I’m not talking about me.”
“Then who?” She tilts her head. It gradually straightens, and her pupils dilate. “Me?”
I scrunch my face. “Would you want to know?”
She looks away and rubs her lips together before meeting my gaze. “John and I aren’t committed to each other. We’re just having fun.”
I lie there with my legs on her lap, awaiting her decision. I do want to protect her from harm, but sometimes people prefer harm in the future over hurt in the moment. Even if I told her the truth, she might not want to hear it.
Her chest rises and falls. She peeks at me again. “Did you see him flirting with another flight attendant?”
I shake my head.
Her eyes pool, and she leans her head back. “Okay, tell me while I’m looking up so I don’t ruin my mascara.”
I reach for her hand. “I sat next to his wife on the flight to San Francisco.”
Her head jerks to face me. Tears draw wet black lines down her cheeks. “No. He said they’d divorced a while ago.”
I shrug because I can’t make her believe it. If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t want to believe it either. “She was traveling with him to take their homeschooled kids to Alcatraz.”
Angel releases my hand to clench at her heart. “They have kids together?”
“Yes.” My own heart twists with her pain. This is why Wyatt told me not to get involved. To protect me. When you tell the truth in love, it hurts you too.
“Did you tell her about me?”
My breath hitches at the devastation that would have come from dropping such a bomb. I’d wanted to warn my friend, not ruin a marriage. “I didn’t think that was my place.”
Angel pushes to her feet, knocking mine off the couch. I wince at the throb in my big toe, but I understand her reaction.
“I’m calling him right now.” Wild eyes. “No, I’m calling her.”
“Wait.” I reach for her arm to halt her hysterics but grab only air.
“I thought we were both consenting adults, but this is not something I consented to.” Her palms press against her cheeks. “He told me I was the first woman he’s been attracted to since his divorce. But if he’s not even divorced, then that’s probably not true either.”
Vivienne saunters in and points a wooden spoon at Angel. “Of course it’s not. I warned you about dating pilots.” Her wooden spoon motions toward me. “How do you feel about quiche Lorraine?”
“Love it. The only eggs I’ve had this month are the powdered ones served in hotels.”
She waves her spoon like a magic wand and disappears back into the kitchen.
“Angel.” I push to a seated position to give her my undivided attention. I’m helpless to stop this plane crash, but what do we do when preparing for an emergency landing? “Take a moment to breathe. To think.”
“I think he needs to be punched in the face.”
“Agreed, but you don’t want to do the punching.
” This is a personal philosophy of mine.
Perhaps because I never want to be the bad guy.
But from my experience in dance, whenever someone is acting like a prima donna, they’ll eventually run into a bigger prima donna who will put them in their place.
“You could break your fingers when punching him, and trust me, it hurts to break a bone.” I motion toward my foot.
A squeal echoes from the kitchen. Then a shout of joy. The rest of my roommates must be excited about quiche too.
Angel grimaces. “Well, his wife needs to be warned.”
I nod. “Or asked for forgiveness.”
“Yeah. Because I’m the other woman.” Angel balls her fists and growls.
Ha-Yoon strolls in. “What happened? Did you not get your transfer request?”
Transfers. Oh goodness, it’s October 27. How could I have forgotten?
My pulse revs. I grab my phone and log in to the Premier Air employee website.
Angel drops into the seat across from me this time. “No. I just found out the pilot I’m dating is married.”
Sparrow pops out. “Adultery was against the law in South Korea until recently.”
Ha-Yoon crosses her arms. “I didn’t even know that.”
“It should still be illegal.” Angel groans. “I thought I was a good person, but I did things that are going to cause someone else a lot of pain.”
A list of all the transfers awarded appears on my screen. Employee numbers line the left side. I scroll down. My number isn’t there. To be sure, I look for my name in the next column. Nada.
My heart plummets. I’m stuck in Seattle for another month or more. Who knows how long?
I click on the column marked “Awarded Positions.” Looks like nobody got SFO. When will they open the base back up for transfers again?
Ha-Yoon sits on the arm of Angel’s chair. “Are you working any upcoming trips with your pilot?”
“I picked up a trip next week.” Angel throws her head back and arms wide. “I’m totally dropping it now, but that’s so unfair. I’d been looking forward to an overnight in Miami.”
Sparrow hasn’t retreated yet and is thus prepared for such a moment. “You don’t want to go to Miami. It’s one of the worst cities for bedbugs, and the hotel where our crews stay just had to be treated.”
“Eww.” Brittany sits at the dining table behind us with a bottle of nail polish, evidently planning to give herself a manicure while she awaits the quiche. “You’d better not bring bedbugs back here, Angel.”
Angel narrows her eyes. “I hope John gets bedbugs.”
I shift, feeling itchy all of a sudden. And not only because I’m stuck in this crash pad for the next month. It sounds as though things could be more uncomfortable than expected, no matter where my new career takes me. “I thought bedbugs were simply made up for that nursery rhyme.”
“Nope.” Journey appears with one of my granola bars in hand. Good thing Vivienne is making me something else to eat. “Don’t ever put your suitcase on a hotel bed.”
The Girls dance into the room. “We’re transferring to New York,” they sing.
That’s the reason for their earlier screaming. Not quiche—the Big Apple.
Angel stares blankly at the ceiling. “Maybe I will too.”
The Girls squeal. “Really?” one asks.
“No, not really,” I answer for her. “Angel just needs some time to process her life circumstances and future goals.” As do we all.
I personally would prefer more peace and quiet for contemplating.
I push forward gingerly. My broken toe is now protected by the walking boot, but it throbs when I put too much pressure on my bad foot.
“I’m going to the bedroom to call Wyatt and let him know I’m not moving back to San Francisco this month. ”
Angel looks up at that. “Oh no, you didn’t get transferred?” How sweet that she cares about me in the midst of her trauma.
I shake my head, glancing away so she doesn’t notice the depths of my disappointment and offer the kind of compassion that would be sure to draw mascara streaks down my own cheeks. But she grabs my hand as I pass, so I bite my lip and give her a brave smile.
“I’m sad for you but glad for me. Let’s make the most of this next month while we’re both here.”
And in our exchange, I’m reminded that Nathan claimed I’m here for a reason. Maybe Angel is my reason. I’m the one who gave her the devastating news, and now I’m the one who can help her heal. “I’d love that.”
I squeeze her hand, then limp into the bedroom, close my door to the chaos outside, and take a deep breath. Thirty more days of this. At least.
After Nathan brought me home, Angel offered to give me the lower bunk, where she’d been sleeping. She’s already switched our bedding, so I’m free to drop onto my mattress. The bunk even has curtains I can pull closed, like it’s a pillow fort.
I make myself comfortable in the dim light and dial Wyatt’s number. I’ve probably talked to him more today than any other day I’ve been here.
He answers after the first ring. “Everything okay?”
My throat clogs with emotion. I’m not yet able to answer without crying, so I swallow again and again. I don’t want Wyatt to assume I’m faking tears to make him feel sorry for me rather than for himself in this situation.
“Claire?”
“I . . .” There. I got one word out. I can do this.
“What?”
Well, now I have to repeat my first word, and that makes everything harder. I’ll just go for it. “I didn’t get transferred.” My voice somehow remained even.
“I was afraid of this.”
I’m still trying to be positive. To make this work. “A couple of my roommates got transferred, so it does happen.”
“They were transferred to San Francisco, and you weren’t?”
“They were transferred to JFK. Nobody got SFO this month.”
He harrumphs. “And there’s no way to know which bases they’ll open next month?”
He just wants me home. That’s all. And that’s what I want too.
“I wish.” Though if they aren’t going to open it, do I really want to know?
If I found out I wouldn’t be transferred next month, would I stay indefinitely or would I quit?
I want to quit. In fact, I wish I were on a plane right now so I could blow an escape slide and make a grand exit.
“When can you make your request to be transferred for next month?” Wyatt asks.
“Right now.” I put him on speaker and log back in to enter my bid. Wyatt is quiet for so long that after I make my request, I check to be sure it’s really on speakerphone. It is, so I switch back and hold the phone to my ear. “Done.”
“You could be done with the job if you want. Just come live with me. I can take care of you.”
“Wyatt . . .”
“What?” He sounds defensive. “Can you understand my concerns? I received a call from my girlfriend earlier and heard the voice of the guy I’d asked her not to spend time with.”
Okay. That’s not a good look. But still. “I didn’t have anyone else here to call.” If only Nathan had a significant other, then Wyatt wouldn’t worry as much.
Hey, wait. I’d been thinking about setting him up with Angel.
“I don’t know how long I can do this.” Wyatt’s words jolt me like a defibrillator.
What’s he saying? That I’m going to have to choose between him and my career? That’s what I’d been afraid of. And while I’ve considered leaving the job, I want to believe I’m worth the effort of the long-distance relationship.
Only last week Wyatt had suggested we move in together. Now his offer feels conditional. Yet I’m scared to lose him. I’m scared to hear him say the words. I just have to change his mind so he’s not even thinking them.
I blurt. “Would it help if you knew Nathan was dating my roommate?”
Silence. “Do you mean to tell me that you’re not the one he’s interested in?”
Nathan cares for me, but I absolutely don’t think he’s interested.
Angel’s more his type, and they’d make a gorgeous couple.
They’re two of my favorite people, and if I love them both, it only makes sense that they’d love each other.
“I told her about her boyfriend tonight, so that’s over, and she’s going to go on a date with Nathan. ”
Now I have to set them up.