2. Harper
Harper
My hands shake as I swallow convulsively, fighting like mad to keep the tears at bay. The last thing I want is to be “that girl” sobbing in the TSA check-in lane at the airport.
“Next,” the burly TSA agent with a huge bushy beard that covers half his face and arms the size of tree trunks calls out. Taking one last look over my shoulder, I scan the crowd for my parents or Curtis, but no one’s there.
“Miss,” the Paul Bunyan lookalike barks loudly.
“Sorry,” I say, rushing to the desk with my ID in hand.
I look at the clock again, getting antsy at how close I’m cutting it.
I waited until the last possible second to head into security, naively hoping someone would show up to stop me.
No one did. Rushing through the airport like the family in Home Alone, I hear them announce the final boarding call, waving my hand in the air to get the flight attendant’s attention as I weave between travelers packed into the terminal at Bangor International Airport. Who needs a graceful exit, anyways?
“Wait, I’m coming,” I shout when she doesn’t seem to notice me.
The flight attendant smiles as I hurry on board.
“Cutting it close aren’t you, hun.” Her smile is so warm and caring, I nearly burst into tears.
Somehow, I hold on to my composure, although I know my lips are wobbling as I make my way to my seat.
Thankfully, I don’t have much to juggle as I get seated.
All I have is my backpack and purse. Everything else was checked or shipped last weekend, and hopefully waiting for me at my cousin's apartment.
The flight attendants are doing their final checks and their little safety spiel as I get settled.
Not wanting to listen to them, I pop my AirPods into my ears and open my e-reader.
The words on the screen blur as the plane begins to taxi away from the gate.
Gulping in a big breath, I close my eyes, resting my hand on my flat stomach, whispering to the little life growing in me.
“It’s just you and me, little one. I don’t know how, but I promise I will take care of you, and I love you already. We will be okay.” This last bit is more for me than the baby, but important all the same.
The lady beside me eyes me curiously, and I worry she might ask me what's wrong, and there is no way I will be able to speak without sobbing, so I avoid eye contact. Eventually, she settles with her neck pillow and falls asleep, snoring lightly. Relieved that she isn’t the prying sort, and now fast asleep, I finally allow my brain to process everything that happened to get me here.
Curtis Jones. I had seen him around town growing up since our families ran in the same circles, but he was five years older than me and didn’t know I existed.
Meeting this summer had been a movie kind of meet cute.
We literally crashed into one another, him spilling coffee all over my shirt and insisting he make it up to me.
I was blinded by his smile and charm and went along with everything he said.
We snuck around, at his insistence that he wasn’t allowed to date right now.
Sneaking around felt exhilarating and naughty.
I had never done anything bad in my life.
I was the perfect daughter, projecting the perfect image my parents insisted on.
So, all of this felt new and exciting, and like I was finally taking control of what I wanted in life.
All of it clouded my vision to the point that when he took me to a shitty motel, I handed over my virginity on a silver platter like he was Prince Charming.
Damn, I was a naive idiot. Prince Charming wouldn’t force you to sneak around for months.
Prince Charming wouldn’t refuse to wear a condom, because he “doesn’t like the way they feel” while you beg him to.
Prince Charming wouldn’t turn on you when the consequences of HIS actions created a baby.
Prince Charming, fuck, Prince Charming isn’t real, and if he were, Curtis sure as hell wasn’t him.
I’m jostled back to reality as Ms. Snorer shifts in her seat, her leg colliding with mine. I laugh sardonically at how stupid I had been, and how blindly I had followed Curtis, just like he wanted.