Chapter Twenty-Five
Twenty-Five
“How to commemorate poor life choices?”
The rain was falling when I opened my eyes, a soft, persistent shower which would probably stop sometime around April next year.
My room smelled like fresh cotton sheets, damp hair, and more ginger ale.
I’d slept for so long and—somehow—it hadn’t been a restless sleep: no more haunted memories or echoing playlists, just a deep, dreamless sleep.
I stretched under the covers and winced.
My back ached, my legs were heavy, and my stomach felt hollow—not sick, but hungry.
I realized I hadn’t eaten since the incident yesterday.
Like every muscle and fiber in my body had been used up in my return to the airfield.
I looked at my phone and saw that Paul had texted me sometime last night.
Paul?:
Checking in. Did you survive the great unknown?
Safe and sound, Phoenix?
I stared at the message, thumb moving above the reply bar for a second too long.
For the first time in a while, I had absolutely no idea what to reply: “all good” sounded too trivial and only partially true, and the word “phoenix” struck me for very interesting reasons.
So I locked the screen. Instead, I called Mia. She picked up on the third ring.
“If you’re calling this early on a Sunday, instead of texting, either you met a hot pilot or something’s wrong.”
I let out a breath. “Not wrong. Just… weird.”
“Oh god. Start talking. You okay?”
I propped the pillow behind my back. “Yeah. I mean, I think I am. Yesterday was… good. Kind of anxious-good.”
Mia hummed. “Is that a technical term?”
“I just mean… Being back at the airfield didn’t feel entirely awful. It felt like I belonged there. It was comforting in this twisted way. But then…”
“You threw up.”
“What? God, Mia, don’t say it like I vomited across the cockpit.”
She snorted. “Well? Did you?”
“No. I had a vertigo moment and nausea. Anxiety must have taken over me. I stumbled to the washroom like a damsel in distress. Adam was the knight in a shining hoodie with a six-pack of ginger ale that made me feel better, for a bit. He will never let me live it down.”
“Was it the accident? What happened last year? Or was it Paul? Did he do something again? With his looks and dreamy eyes, it’s almost impossible, but I’m starting to hate the guy.”
“Maybe both feelings mixed. Felt like massive stage freight at a place where I almost died. Paul texted and asked if I was okay; maybe that’s why the morning felt off. My appetite was trash, and I barely touched coffee.”
“Okay,” she said gently. “But how do you feel today?”
I paused. “Proud of myself that I did it. Nausea’s gone. But I’m sore. Like… muscle-ache sore. Could be from sleeping so long, I haven’t slept like this in weeks.”
“Headache? Cramps? Anything else?”
“Mia…” I warned, but my voice lacked conviction.
“I’m not diagnosing, babe. I’m just asking.”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. Maybe I’m just processing everything late.”
“Or maybe your body’s doing what it needs to. Whatever this is, you did something huge: you went back.”
I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “It felt like something clicked and then unclicked. All at once.”
“That’s healing for you. Never linear.”
There was a silence, soft but not uncomfortable. Then Mia added, “If you want to swing by later, I’ve got leftover pasta and no judgment.”
“No buttery croissants that commemorate poor life choices this time?”
“I’m evolving. Still saved a slice of that horrible cake though, for your pleasure.”
I laughed.
“I might come over.”
“You better. Bring your flight playlist and a bag of those gummy worms you pretend to hate. I know one kid who will love you more than her mom when you come bearing gifts.”
“Deal,” I said. “Thanks, Mia.”
“For?”
“For being my chosen sister.”
“You’re welcome, sister,” she said with a smile in her voice.
Mia opened the door, took one look at my face, and said nothing. No jokes, no dramatic greeting, only a short come in.
I took off my shoes and padded across the floor like a ghost, hugging the paper bag with gummy worms and those rice crackers Talia liked. I didn’t even try to fake cheerfulness.
“Kitchen’s yours,” she said. “And the couch. And, if needed, a big girl blanket. Fits three of us, might have some chocolate stains on it, but it does the job.”
I offered the smallest of smiles. “I might need the blanket.”
“Thought so. You look like you saw a ghost.”
She turned off the TV, where her daughter was watching a cartoon featuring pigs jumping up and down in muddy puddles, handed her a snack, and mouthed ‘ten minutes.’ Then she followed me to the kitchen.
I slid into the barstool, resting my arms on the counter.
Mia made herbal tea for both of us, started reheating the pasta, and waited for me to start the conversation.
“After we got off the phone, I started doing some research,” I blurted out.
“That’s secretive enough, Alicia. Are we playing jeopardy? Just spill it, babe.”
“Like what’s going on with me. Dr. Google seems to think it’s either cancer, a mental illness, or the other thing,” I said finally.
Mia froze mid-pasta stir. “The other thing. Okay, go on.”
“So I started doing some math, and it had nothing to do with flight mechanics.”
She turned the burner down, as if to hear me more clearly. “After what you told me yesterday, I didn’t think so.”
I ran a trembling hand over my face. “So. My last period… was before Paul left for Portland, when everything seemed fine and when we were… I was happy.”
Her face didn’t change. She just leaned back against the counter and started mixing the pasta with nervous twists.
“That was six weeks ago. And almost four since… since we were together the last time. I didn’t plan it. Neither of us did. Just two heartbroken people reaching for each other, probably for different reasons. Sad, goodbye sex. Closure sex. Closure for him and more questions for me.”
“You never told me that part.”
I added. “I know, I’m sorry. I was too embarrassed to admit it.
It was the same night he admitted he didn’t love me, that he loved someone else.
It might have been a shock, but it just felt like it was our moment, one that we were meant to experience and understand.
Pathetic in hindsight, I know. And then he was gone.
And now it’s all hitting me back like a boomerang.
Every second that I’ve been feeling… off.
Dizzy. That airfield moment, it wasn’t just nerves.
I know my body, annoyingly well, every scar, and every bone.
And now I sleep more, my chest hurts sometimes, I didn’t drink coffee today, Mia. ”
“That’s serious.”
I shot her a look. “I’m serious.”
“I know.”
We sat like that for a beat, the pasta gurgling gently on the stove.
“I haven’t taken a test,” I said. “Because I didn’t want to spiral. I was on birth control, and I can’t believe it didn’t work—or that I missed a dose. Did I? But then again, I don’t think I can just let it sit.”
“Is that why you didn’t text him back?”
I looked up. “How do you know I didn’t?”
“Please,” she said, opening a cupboard. “If you had, you’d have started this story with Paul said… or Paul replied with some stupid poetic bullshit… So. He texted again?”
I nodded. “Just asked if I was okay and that he’s worried I didn’t reply.”
“And?”
“I didn’t want to lie, and I didn’t want to text just to be a line in his day, or to mess with what he really wants, when he’s probably back with that girl already, showing her how he’s magically healed. And I just started, barely, to recover from that.”
Mia handed me a glass of water and sat down across from me. “Now, instead of telling me what other people want, tell me what you want?”
I stared at the water, tracing the edge of the glass with my finger. “To know so that I can deal. And I want you here, not because I need a midwife or backup, but because you’re the one person who won’t let me pretend it’s all fine, or all bad, or act like I’m losing my mind.”
“I could get used to being described like that.”
I took a sip. “You’ve earned it.”
She tilted her head. “So what now?”
“I’ll get a test,” I said. “Tomorrow morning, before work. The thought of taking one makes me nauseous, go figure, but it’s something that I need to do.”
“Want me to come with you? I will.”
“No,” I said quickly. Then, much softer: “But… maybe check in after? Just in case.”
“Of course. And if it’s a yes…?”
“I’ll figure it out,” I said. “But not today. Today I just needed to say it out loud to someone who isn’t him. And eat pasta with you and Talia.”
Mia stood, walked over, and wrapped her arms around me. No questions, only a hug, the kind that says I’m here, however this goes.
I leaned in and let her hold that weight for just a moment longer, because I was scared, shitless.