Chapter 39
Crying in an airport after a breakup while sucking on an iced coffee the size of an infant makes me feel like the cliche of all cliches, but here I am. I’m sitting on the floor next to the only working electrical outlet in the entire Miami terminal so I can hold on to enough charge to keep talking to Omar. He’s doing his best to keep me calm, but to be honest it’s not working.
‘It’s going to be alright,’ he says.
‘No, it’s not. I messed everything up. I was so focused on making things work with A-hole Paul and proving my mother wrong that I couldn’t see what was right in front of me. I was so stupid.’
‘You are not stupid. I will not let you talk about my best friend that way.’ He has the same fierceness in his voice he’s had the other dozen times he’s said it to me today. I take a huge gulp from my drink, smush my coat into a lumpy pillow, and lay down on the floor of the airport despite the fact that it probably has more germs than a public toilet.
‘I am stupid. Of course Finn was going to be gone by the time I got back to the hotel.’ I wipe the tears from my eyes with my sleeve.
‘Read me the note he left again,’ Omar says, even though he has heard it many times since I picked it up from the concierge. I dig my hand in my pocket, past my boarding pass, to find the piece of paper with Finn’s words.
‘“Catching a flight back tonight. Be honest with yourself.”’ My throat catches before I read the last word. ‘“Finn”.’ I shove the note back in my pocket. If only I had been able to catch him, I could have explained everything, and maybe we could have even had our midnight swim. But it’s a long way from the fancy private mansions in Palm Beach to the nightlife in Miami, and I’m not sure I could have found the words I needed to explain myself to Finn. I’m still not sure I can explain myself to myself.
‘That note isn’t so bad,’ Omar says, trying to be encouraging.
‘It’s not so good either. I had just kissed Finn and then left him in the lobby to go be with another man. I should have been honest with Finn. Who cares about being honest with myself?’ I cover my face with my hand.
‘You were not with Paul. You were tricked into going to a fundraiser with him in a surprise ambush,’ Omar says sharply.
‘I should have been clearer that Paul was coming back or that I thought he was coming back. Paul did the same thing to me, always being vague about Todd.’
‘It’s not the same thing. Not exactly. It’s not like you were living with Paul. He was on the other side of the country,’ Omar says raising his voice. ‘You haven’t even seen him in person since, what? September?’
‘More or less,’ I say. I did see Paul for a few hours during his layover in New York but that was about as platonic as it could be. Not that it matters anymore. ‘Paul is a complete jerk. I see that now. Hell, I saw that before. What I didn’t see before is how I had any control over the situation.’ My battery icon flashes from green to red and I sit up to push the plug deeper into the wall. ‘I see that now. I don’t have to be with Paul just because he asked me or he’s the type of man I think I should be with. I don’t need someone who just makes me feel safe because it’s easy and he doesn’t challenge me. I need someone who makes me feel safe enough to believe in myself. Choose the things I want and go after them even if it’s hard. Even if I face rejection.’
‘Stop it,’ Omar says and I can hear the usual sirens in the background. ‘Now you’re making me cry. I’ve been waiting so long to hear you believe in yourself. You know I believe in you, and the people who love you do, but you had to believe it yourself.’
‘I have a long way to go with my own self-confidence, but at least for one brief moment last night, during sunset, standing on a milk crate, I felt it.’ My voice wobbles thinking about balancing myself on the podium Finn created. ‘I felt it for that moment, and I think I can feel it again.’ Maybe that’s all self-confidence really is. Maybe it’s not a checklist of accomplishments or something empirical that you can measure with a ruler. Maybe it’s just a feeling that you have about yourself. You need to keep practicing the feeling until it’s a part of you.
‘Final call for OpenSkies, Flight 79 to Newark, New Jersey,’ a muffled voice announces from the gate.
‘I have to go,’ I say and yank my phone charger out of the wall and gather my things.
‘Kevin and Wayne are on their way over but I’ll text and tell them to turn around,’ Omar says. ‘I can bring down my samovar and have tea waiting for you the minute you come back.’
‘No, that’s okay. But thank you. Don’t change your plans.’ Omar’s offer is generous and kind. He’s a wonderful friend who I’ve never needed or appreciated more than in this moment. ‘I have someplace else I need to go.’