Chapter Twenty-Nine Claire
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Claire
There are no shortcuts to any place worth going.
—UNKNOWN
With so many traveling for Thanksgiving, there wasn’t an open seat for me to fly home standby that night. It should be easier to get on a plane tomorrow morning because nobody wants to travel on Thanksgiving Day.
And I’m not complaining. I’ve got the rest of the month off, so I’m able to pack up and move home. Plus, I get to spend one last night with my roommates.
We try out all the facial products Maritza brought back from her trip overseas.
Evidently Japan is known for their skin care, and some of their hotels leave facial products in rooms, the way American hotels leave shower caps.
Unfortunately, none of us can read the instructions printed in Japanese on all the little packets, so we just apply masks to our faces and guess when we’re supposed to remove them.
Makes for some pretty entertaining selfies. Especially the one with us in our masks on the couch and Sparrow’s head popping out from her bedroom in the background.
I wish I’d taken more pictures of my roommates while living here. Better pictures. I didn’t even get a shot of The Girls before they moved to New York last month.
I’m reliving all these memories the next morning as Angel walks me to the shuttle to help roll my second suitcase.
She hugs me, our now extra-silky cheeks pressed together. “I can’t believe you’re leaving already.”
I hang on a little bit longer. Jimmy, our first shuttle driver, carries my bags on board and waits from his seat.
Since he’d once seemed interested in Angel, I figure I can get away with it.
“Well, you’re planning to apply for an international airline, right?
So you probably won’t be here much longer anyway. ”
Angel pulls away but holds my shoulders, presumably since it’s easier to talk this way than with our cheeks pressed together. “I applied to Air Elite, and they have a base in Seattle, meaning I might not have to leave at all.”
“That would be ideal.” It’s unbelievable to me how often flight crew switch bases and move around. I’ve just wanted to go home the whole time I’ve been here, but maybe some of them are looking for the right place to call home.
“Angel,” Jimmy finally calls. “If you’re having trouble saying goodbye, climb aboard. You can ride round trip.”
“I’m not coming.” Angel smirks at him, then turns to me. “Sorry. I would, but I’ve got a stand-up tonight, and I need a nap.”
Stand-ups are when you work the last flight of one day followed by the first flight out the next day.
You stay in a hotel and don’t literally have to stand up, but you’re lucky if you get five hours of sleep.
Some people pick them because they pay extra, but I’m glad I haven’t been assigned any yet.
I climb a step into the shuttle. “You’ll come visit, right?”
“Absolutely. After the holidays, when there are more open seats for standby passengers.”
“I’m not going to see you until next year?” I cry, clearly acting overdramatic, but it’s authentic at the same time. I make it to the top step.
Angel pouts her bottom lip, joining me in being theatrical. “You have Wyatt. Let me know how Thanksgiving goes with combining your families.”
On that note, Jimmy closes the door between us.
I take my seat and wave out the window, wishing I were more excited about returning to my boyfriend. I’m going home, but for the first time, saying “Home, James” doesn’t feel appropriate.
The conversation with Nathan shook me. Do I really love Wyatt and want what’s best for him? Or am I simply afraid of losing him? Am I selfish?
I tell myself the distance has simply been hard on us. Once I get back, everything will return to normal.
Shortly after my parents open their front door to welcome me home, I open the same front door to find Wyatt and his parents.
“Happy Thanksgiving. Look at what I’m grateful for.” I point to my minus-the-walking-boot foot.
Wyatt and his folks stare at my ballet flats.
“You got new shoes?” he guesses.
If he’d seen me more lately, maybe he would have guessed better. “I got my walking boot off!”
“Congratulations.” Wyatt offers me a poinsettia and a light peck. He looks good in a navy sweater, with his curls slightly tamed for the occasion. His musky scent adds to the smell of baking turkey.
My cheeks flush, and not only from all the oven heat warming the townhouse. “Come in. Come in.”
He’s brought his folks. The three of them traditionally eat Thanksgiving dinner on a harbor cruise, and while I appreciated the classiness of such an idea, I couldn’t leave my large, crazy family during such a big holiday. So Mom suggested I invite them to join us instead.
I didn’t think Wyatt would be interested, but the fact that they’re all here makes me wonder if he planned for everyone to gather together for a reason. Perhaps he wants an audience when asking a certain question.
Hope wells up in me like air in a float at the Macy’s parade. He hadn’t been happy that I’d moved back in with my parents instead of him, so this is his chance to show how committed he is.
His mom carries a strawberry Jell-O pretzel salad. It looks like more of a dessert than a salad, but today is not a day for counting calories.
I make the introductions, explaining repeatedly that my niece Teresa is actually older than I am. Her significant other and his family are here too. It’s cozy in our small space, though Wyatt’s parents’ smiles are strained, as if they’d refer to the close quarters as “uncomfortable.”
We do have to squish around the rows of card tables covered in plastic tablecloths for dinner. My dad’s holiday shirt, with a cartoon image of a turkey wearing a pilgrim hat, matches the tablecloths. He stands at the head of the table as Mom carries out a platter of the carved poultry.
Dad chimes his fork against his glass to get our attention, and it takes another chime for the side talk to quiet down.
“I’m thankful to have you all here today. Especially my baby girl, who’s spent the last couple of months traveling around the country.”
My niece nudges me with her shoulder on the left. Wyatt’s on my right, with his parents on his other side. They’re closer to my parents so they can all get to know one other.
Should it bother me that my niece is the one connecting with me over this moment? I guess she’s more comfortable in this setting than my boyfriend is, which is understandable. I let it go.
Dad continues. “I’ve personally always hated to fly, but from the stories she’s told, it sounds as if flying has taken her closer to heaven.”
In ways I’d never expected.
Dad grins. “So I’m also thankful for her reminder of our faith, and I’d like to say grace for dinner today.”
Wow. I hadn’t expected that either. But maybe my personal growth has been an invitation for those around me. I smile at Dad and reach out to hold hands.
My first prayer with Wyatt. I peek to catch his reaction, but his head is already bowed and eyes closed. I’m the one being irreverent, so I follow suit.
I offer up a prayer of my own for God’s direction in our relationship and echo Dad’s “amen.” Before I can even release Wyatt’s hand, there’s another water glass chiming. This time from my left.
I turn to find Teresa’s boyfriend standing. He’s as long and lanky as he is fidgety. My heart jitters with what I assume is shared nervousness for the proposal it appears he’s about to make.
Sure enough, he cracks a grin to rival the size of the San Andreas Fault. “I also want to share what I’m thankful for this year.”
Teresa squeals and covers her mouth. Her squeal continues to ring in my ears like tinnitus. I don’t catch another word he says as my joy for her wars with a twinge of jealousy.
He drops down onto one knee.
“Yes,” she says. They both cry.
And I can’t help but wonder, if that had been me, would I have been as happy?
It’s what I thought I wanted. It’s what I still want. But were I the one getting engaged today, it’d be more of a logical next step than a celebration like I’m witnessing.
I definitely don’t think Wyatt would cry. It would be more like he’s conceding an arm-wrestling match.
Teresa jumps up and down. Races in place. Throws her arms in the air and turns to hug me. “You’re next,” she whispers in my ear.
I avoid Wyatt’s gaze after that. Dinner resumes with more merriment than before.
It’s not until Wyatt’s parents leave that I find myself alone with him on the rooftop, a gas firepit between us and a view of the Golden Gate lit up at twilight. I’d offered to give him a ride home later tonight if he wanted to stay, and I should be thankful he did.
“Well, that was awkward,” he says.
I need to focus on the positive. “Blending families probably always is.” Though it didn’t seem that way for Teresa’s future in-laws.
“You didn’t know they were getting engaged?” he says, the drop of challenge in his tone.
I shake my head. “I haven’t been around. I’m out of the loop.”
He chuckles sardonically. “So it’s not only been with me?”
I glance over to read his expression. Is he hurt? Is he angry? If I could go back and give up this new career to make him happy, would I? I don’t think so, which surprises me.
I’ve always been a people pleaser. Yet here I am with a goal other than that of pleasing my boyfriend. I still want the relationship, but not as much as I want a healthy relationship.
“I’m glad we’re getting this chance to reconnect,” I offer.
“Well.” He shifts. “You can’t just come back and expect me to propose the way your future brother-in-law did.”
“Nephew-in-law.”
“What?”
“Teresa is my niece, remember?”
“That actually makes this worse.”
I shake my head. “How?”
He shrugs, like it’s obvious. “Your niece is engaged before you are. If your family wasn’t already putting pressure on me to pop the question, then they will be now.”
I narrow my eyes to study him closer. As much as I care for him, I’m not liking what I see. “This isn’t about my family.”
He lifts his chin. “Prove it.”
My eyebrows dip. What is he suggesting? “How?”
He shifts forward, forearms on thighs. Firelight flickers over his skin, shadowing the hollows of his eyes. “Move in with me.”
My heart wavers. If only it were that easy.
It would be easier on my finances than trying to find my own place. It would be easier to make time for each other because we’d see each other at home. It would be easier to put his insecurities at ease when he can see how loyal I am.
It might make him happy. But I’m realizing it would also harm him. Keep him from learning to respect boundaries. Allow him to avoid the kind of commitment needed for the future I want, with marriage and children. Let him minimize my feelings.
I’m still afraid of losing Wyatt. If I say no and this relationship ends, I’ll be further away from my dream of family.
I’ll be starting over again. And if maintaining a relationship while working as a flight attendant is this hard, then I can’t imagine how challenging it would be to start a new one.
Honestly, I’d rather hang on to the known. All I have to do is accept Wyatt’s offer. I can choose to keep him.
“Wyatt.” I reach for his hand. It’s warm and firm.
It symbolizes the stability and companionship I’ve craved since losing my ability to dance.
Until recently, my identity had come from being his girlfriend, my worth from what I saw in his eyes.
But not anymore. While he was afraid I might find those things in another man, I ended up finding them in God.
I don’t need a boyfriend to define me anymore.
I’m valuable because I was created with value.
I’ve found faith, hope, and purpose. That doesn’t mean I’m perfect, and it doesn’t mean I’m leaving him.
It means I’ve learned what love is and am not going to settle for less.
I take a deep breath and finally respond to his ultimatum. “I love you too much to do that.”