Nick
I’m here too early. Sitting at the bar with four hours to burn before my flight. I just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t say goodbye to her. I type her a message, delete what I type, and then type it again. I’m an asshole for what I did. I just can’t lose someone I love again.
Can’t be left behind again.
So, you do the leaving before you can be left?
I hear my therapist’s voice in my head as I flip the cocktail menu over.
I should just text her, call her…something.
I shrug my camera bag over my shoulder and walk out of the lounge. The giant screen with all the departing flights glows. This is a small airport, so I’m sure the three o’clock flight to JFK is the one she’ll be on. That gate is on the opposite side of the airport.
The possibility of her rejecting me, especially after leaving the way I did, hangs over my shoulder. Still, I start my trek. Try to make peace with whatever outcome awaits me.
If she says she never wants to see me again, at least I’ll know I deserve it.
I should have told her what I wanted. Should have told her that I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, just like she told me. Should have written her a letter — something. The more I think about it, the more angry I become with myself.
When I arrive at the gate, I don’t see her in any of the nearby waiting areas. “Excuse me,” I ask one of the attendants.
“How can I help you, sir?” She asks.
“Is…is this the only flight to New York?” I confirm.
Her manicured fingers fly over the keyboard. “Yes…until seven this evening,” she says, her corporate smile not reaching her eyes.
I tap the counter before releasing a breath. “Thank you.”
My phone feels heavy in my hand with her contact information on the screen. I’m just about to call her when I hear a familiar voice. “Is that Nick?”
I turn to find Rita and Kendra sitting at the bar of an Italian restaurant. My heart races as I walk over to them. “You seen Krystal?” I ask.
They look at each other, then back at me. Rita eyes me up and down, disapproval stamped across her face when she turns her back. My shoulders fall. I sigh. “I know I fucked up,” I admit.
Kendra purses her lips, raises her eyebrow at me in a way that makes the blood drain from my face. “I’m trying to make it right,” I plead.
“Too late for that,” Rita mutters.
Kendra remains silent, eyeing me up and down.
Fuck. They aren’t going to help me.
I sigh, shaking my head as I turn on my heel — bringing her contact up on my phone again.
“Nick!” Kendra yells. I toss her a look over my shoulder and see sympathy in her eyes. When I turn around to face her one more time, she motions me to come over, and I oblige — praying they tell me she’s in the bathroom or something, that she’ll walk out and look at me with those soft, amber eyes.
“She changed her flight at the last minute,” Kendra explains. “She’s going to North Carolina.”
My heart jumps at the prospect of being one step closer to finding her, and that she decided to go spend Christmas with her family.
That’s my girl…I hope.
I walk halfway across the airport to the gate for the North Carolina flight, but as I approach, the deserted seats inspire a wave of dread through my body. I slump into one of the chairs, prop my elbows up on my knees.
I’m too late.
I was moving in such a hurry that I didn’t bother to check the time of the flight. The flight that departed fifteen minutes ago. I release a deep, defeated breath, finally hitting the call button under her name.
It rings once before going to voicemail.
I try again.
Voicemail.
She’s probably already in airplane mode or out of reach to receive cell service.
I call one more time, and this time, when it goes to voicemail, I say all the things I should have said when I had her in my arms.