Chapter 1 #2
“Just a guess.” Seemed to me that the woman was a whole lot better off without Tyler and his mother, but I decided not to share that.
She sniffed again. “My nose is running. You wouldn’t have a tissue, would you?”
I didn’t. But I was good in a pinch. I emptied out half my food bag, came up with a napkin, and passed it over to her.
She blew her nose loudly and pointed to my bag. “Do you own a restaurant? Whatever’s in there smells great.”
“My aunts made it.”
“Your aunts made you food? For your journey? Aww. That’s so sweet.”
I smiled. Mainly because she was right. I had a great family. “In my family, food is love.”
“In my family, our hometown is love.” She laughed.
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“My parents were retired, living in Fort Myers. My dad golfed every day and was thinking of buying a boat. My mom belonged to three book clubs.”
“And?”
“And then they moved back home. To Wisconsin. To be near me!” she said in an exasperated tone.
“Well, that’s nice.”
“My mom and I don’t see eye to eye.” She paused and gestured to herself. “I’m not the daughter she wanted.” She rubbed her forehead. “Obviously.”
“I’m sure your parents are very proud of you regardless of what happened today,” I said because…well, what do you say to that? Besides, it would be better for both of us if she stopped crying.
Just then, the loudspeaker crackled as the captain signaled our takeoff, and the plane began to cascade down the runway, gaining speed.
The woman, whose name I still didn’t know, clutched her chest. “Oh my goodness, I think I feel a little sick.”
I touched her arm. She felt cold, despite the sweatshirt. But even worse, her face had gone as white as her sweatshirt.
“Try deep breaths.” I went into ER mode. “Keep your head down.”
She inhaled deeply. “You were right,” she whispered. “Three was too many.”
Her hand came up to her mouth, which I recognized as the universal vomit sign. I quickly dumped out all my homemade goodies just in time to hand Santa over for his ultimate sacrifice.
And then she hurled.
People around us freaked out. “Ew, gross,” I heard from behind us. “Henry, did someone just puke?” came from the woman in front of me.
Despite being mid-takeoff, the flight attendant was on us in a flash, handing over wipes, tissues, a glass of cold water, and a brand-new barf bag. My seatmate’s face quickly went from pale to bright red as she wiped her mouth, shakily accepted the water, and thanked the attendant profusely.
All this before we hit 30,000 feet.
A minute later, my new friend sat back and lifted up her sunglasses.
When she turned to me this time, I saw that her eyes were a clear, pale blue, lined like a raccoon with watered-down mascara, but still stunning.
I immediately saw something in them that I was no stranger to—pain.
“I’m really sorry,” she said. And then she started to cry.
Ani
On my way back from the bathroom, I paused in the aisle in front of my seatmate, crossing my arms to hide the fact that I was freezing.
I also felt incredibly sober. “I want you to know that I’m normally a responsible person.
I’m actually a pediatrician. I’m saying this because I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life. ”
“What’s your name?” the man asked after I’d excused myself, climbed over his long legs, and lowered myself back into my window seat. “I mean, I think we should be on a first-name basis after working together to avert a greater disaster, don’t you?”
He punctuated his statement with a winsome grin, which told me that with looks like his, he was probably used to being charming.
The fact that he was joking did wonders for my embarrassment, which was painfully acute.
He was nice and was clearly trying to help a woman who surely appeared to be losing it all around.
For the first time, I noticed that he had a head full of thick wavy hair and enough lean muscle to be an easy contender for a name-brand underwear ad.
My looks were a completely different story.
While I’d managed to finger-brush my teeth, it was impossible to make my hair look normal after the stylist had sprayed an entire bottle of intense-hold hairspray all over it this morning, giving it the consistency of frozen leaves.
“My name is Ani.” I handed him a clean plastic bag I’d procured from our saintly flight attendant.
“For your goodies.” Which were now tucked into the seat pocket in front of him.
Also, he’d taken off his black quarter zip and left it on my seat.
Out of necessity, I’d pitched my sweatshirt in the bathroom trash and was now so cold I had to grit my teeth to prevent them from chattering.
But surely he couldn’t be offering me, a complete stranger, his jacket. I picked it up as I sat down.
“Your name is pronounced Oni?” he asked. “Not Annie?”
“That’s right.” Why was he even talking to me? I looked like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket. And I’d barfed in his Santa bag. Geesh.
“I’m Adam,” he said, extending his hand. When I grasped it, he squeezed with a gentle but firm pressure. Comforting. He had nice hands. And they were warm. Which I definitely wasn’t.
“Listen, Adam. I’m so sorry. I—I don’t usually drink and I—”
He scanned me, taking in all my disarray. And my white camisole. I quickly crossed my arms over my chest to hide what I was sure was even more of a show.
“You’re clearly having a bad day, he said. “No apologies necessary.”
“A really bad day,” I emphasized. “I’m sorry about…Santa.”
“He was irreplaceable.”
“Oh no—” I stared at him in horror and pulled out my phone to make a note about searching for the bag on the internet.
He stopped me by touching my arm. “I’m kidding. I saved the food. Now that’s valuable.”
That made me smile a little. Then I remembered his jacket. “Here.” I held it out to him, secretly hoping that he’d meant to leave it there for me. Please, God, because this plane was now the temperature of Antarctica.
He pushed it away. “I don’t need it. Just put it on.”
With a grateful nod, I did and felt instant relief. It smelled clean and spicy, like guy soap or deodorant but not as nose-stinging as strong cologne. As a doctor, I noticed these things because in the hospital, we didn’t wear strong scents. No one wants to smell pungent cologne when they’re sick.
As I drank more water, my stomach rumbled loudly.
From the seat pocket in front of him, he pulled out a little plastic-wrapped triangle from his stash. “Try one.”
As I accepted it, I catalogued my diet for today.
A cup of coffee over hair and makeup. Two mimosas.
Half a bagel before I was interrupted for pictures.
I didn’t even count the Bloody Marys. I bit into the triangular pie.
It was wrapped in soft, homemade bread dough and stuffed with a lemony mixture of chopped spinach and pine nuts. And it was spectacular.
Wow. “How wonderful to have aunts who feed you.”
“I take it you don’t?”
“Only child, small family. No one cooks.” What I didn’t say was that we had staff for that.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked.
I snorted. “About my sad childhood?”
He smiled that nice smile again. I knew it would get to me if I were in any condition
to feel anything, which I obviously wasn’t.
“Okay, fine. I didn’t really have a sad childhood.
But I did stop my wedding. Literally a minute before I had to walk down the aisle.
The boyfriend of one of my best friends had to go tell our two hundred and twenty guests that everything was off and to go home.
” I rubbed my forehead, as if that would erase the memories. “It was horrifying.”
He was still looking straight at me, listening intently, which made me wonder what his job was. An air traffic controller, maybe, with that sharp focus? “But not as horrifying as marrying your fiancé, apparently.”
“Exactly.” The word came out in a choked whisper. “He’s not terrible. The worst thing he did was want a future completely different from the one I envisioned.” I lowered my head and sighed. “I don’t think I should have gotten on this plane. But I just…couldn’t stay. It’s all a blur.”
I’d left a mess behind—reception food that would never be eaten, gifts that would never be opened, and a man I should never have said yes to in the first place. Why had I waited so long to break things off? This was a pattern in my life. Talking myself out of the hard truths in relationships.
“Who thought it was a good idea to put you on this plane alone?” My seatmate’s tone made it clear that he thought that was the dumbest idea on the planet.
“I think—I think my parents were embarrassed. Maybe they thought it was best for me to escape all the questions, the people, the mess. I don’t really know. I’m not sure I knew exactly what I was doing.”
I’d said way too much. I pondered in a raw panic what on earth I was going to do in a tropical paradise alone for seven whole days? This really had been the worst idea ever. As soon as I landed, I vowed to book the first flight back the next day.
I needed to change the subject fast, before the tears started falling again. “You’re meeting someone?” I mean, he had to be. The guy was gorgeous. He was going to a coveted, romantic destination, definitely not one you’d associate with a typical guy trip.
“My wife passed away two years ago,” he said.
“Turks and Caicos was one of her favorite places, and she’d always wanted me to see it.
My friends bought me a ticket because they were worried about me.
” He paused, but before I could ask why, he said, “I haven’t taken any time off since it happened.
Frankly, I’m not so sure this is such a great idea either. ”
I suddenly felt even more awful. It was one thing to dump someone at the last second, and another to lose the love of your life.
Honestly, I cared for Tyler, even loved him, but not in the absolute way I should have to marry him.
Now that things had gone down this way, my predominant feeling was not sorrow. It was relief.
“I’m sorry about your wife,” I said. “My problems seem very small compared to that.”
I thought of the hassles awaiting me on my return—the roomful of unopened gifts that needed to go back and all the wasted money my parents had spent on the reception. Additionally, I’d bought an adorable house with Tyler that I would now never live in and would have to put back on the market.
My bigger problem involved wondering if I’d made the right choice moving home to Oak Bluff.
Now that my parents were back, I’d have to confront the issues my mom and I had that we both tended to sweep under the rug.
I’d signed with a local pediatric practice to fulfill my dream of practicing in my hometown, where I could truly know and care for my patients.
But my partners and I couldn’t have been more different.
All I’d wanted was to settle in, and yet everything I’d done recently had been very unsettling. Except my worst disasters were nothing compared to Adam’s.
He shook his head. “No. I mean, either case is—well, it’s giving up something that you thought would be forever.”
“Now that I’m actually thinking about it, I always panicked at the forever part. But I kept telling myself that it was just normal nerves.”
“My mom keeps telling me that recovering from any shock or tragedy takes time.” He had soft brown eyes that easily showed compassion. And while I didn’t exactly take comfort in his words, I gave him major points for trying.
“Do you think she’s right?” I asked before I stuffed the last bite of the tasty spinach pie into my mouth.
Maybe I’d recover, but I was never dating again. I would sell the house and do my job with my unusual partners until I could afford to return to Milwaukee, where I’d trained, and lead a quiet life off the radar. No Ani-you’re-just-too-much, which was what my mom was fond of saying.
“Not sure.” He held out another pie, but I shook my head, not wanting to risk adding to my still-queasy stomach.
I settled my head back against the seat, suddenly suppressing a yawn. “I’ve been up since five a.m.,” I said. “Hair and makeup.” I lifted my hand up to my hair, but feeling the hopeless scope of the disarray and the strange, crunchy texture, dropped it back into my lap.
“You should take a nap.”
I glanced sideways at him. Maybe he was an angel, sent here expressly to prevent me from completely losing my shit. In any case, he was the best thing that had happened to me on this awful day. “Thank you for the food. And for being nice.”
The soft, warm jacket, the good food, the kindness—it all helped to settle my mind and brought me to a place where exhaustion finally overtook me.