Chapter 3 Everly
EVERLY
This is my big beginning, my chance to start over and forget Todd, the wedding fail, the fear when I got the diagnosis, and the kissituation. Okay, being real here. I’ll never forget that. In fact, I should probably do the Viking a favor and send divorce papers so he can move on with his life.
But will I?
With no plans or interest in dating anytime soon, the ring stays on my finger to ward off vampires and turds like Todd.
I glance from my ticket with my assigned seat number to the labels under the overhead bins until I finally find my spot by the window at the rear of the plane. As I squeeze past the other passengers, apologizing because my hands are full, I get a few—how shall I put it?—friendly but wary looks.
It’s like they’re not sure whether to be cautious in case I’m a problem wrapped up in a happy daisy sundress with a leopard print denim jacket on top, or a nervous tween traveling by herself for the first time.
To be clear, it’s neither. Well, I won’t lie. I am a little nervous.
I checked my luggage and carry my yellow metal water bottle covered in stickers, my handbag with the Cookie Dough Diary, my phone with its fuzzy case, and the cowgirl hat that no one would buy and I couldn’t part with.
All of that is mine, but I borrowed the daisy sundress and leopard print denim jacket.
Yes, I look like a middle schooler who just left the mall with her loot. No, I didn’t rob a twelve-year-old. However, with my finances being relatively tight, I “shopped” in Heidi’s basement storage boxes to replace some of my belongings. Okay, pretty much my entire wardrobe.
Once upon a time, I had a credit card that I didn’t think twice about swiping at will.
I bought whatever clothing, coffee, and tchotchkes I wanted.
Spiteful, Todd cleaned me out and Heidi helped me sell online everything that remained, leaving me with her castoffs, some of which she’s had since middle school.
Which means I’m the same size Heidi was when she was still a preteen. Five-two and a shave over a hundred pounds.
Nothing wrong with that, but I don’t exactly feel like I’m winning at adulthood. Mostly, because until recently, I didn’t realize I could make my life my own. It had been subject to the whims of my father and then my fiancé.
Watch out, world, here I come.
All I need are a pair of headphones with a unicorn horn or cat ears and I’d be golden.
An older woman with tufty white hair sits in the aisle seat and stares at her cellphone’s blank screen.
I squeeze past her before carefully lowering into my spot.
My chest is still sore if I move abruptly or twist, but so is my heart.
I’m not sure it’ll ever heal. It wasn’t broken by a lousy boyfriend or lost love, more like a loser, but from time to time it hurts nonetheless because, as independent as I am, what I really long for is family.
Of course, Heidi embraces me with open arms, but I mean my own family—a mom and dad, maybe siblings I can call and whose kids I can spoil.
I gaze through the airplane window at the workers bustling around, loading luggage, and beyond to the trees with new, bright leaves.
It’s been a long spring. Heidi argued against my leaving so soon, especially because summer is the best time of year in northern Michigan.
However, as soon as I received clearance to fly, I booked my ticket to Concordia, where I have a job waiting at the Blancbourg Academy d’Etiquette.
The promise of the bright horizon waiting for me, along with mountain views, seaside vistas, and a new beginning, helped me through the long winter.
As the rest of the passengers board the plane, I feel like a marathon runner who’s almost reached the proverbial finish line, only I’m not wearing a terry cloth headband or neon sneakers.
My wavy brown hair is just a tad too short to tie in a ponytail and I sold my gently used two-hundred-fifty-dollar sneakers on one of the online consignment shops that Heidi found.
I anticipate a win because I’m leaving behind the ever-present twist of anxiety that has kept me on edge for months as soon as the plane reaches cruising altitude.
I never meant to do anything shady, but ultimately, it was a life-or-death situation and I’m eager to put as much distance between myself and the past as possible.
I buckle up, wrap my mother’s pashmina scarf that I never leave home without around my neck and shoulders, and say a quick prayer for a safe journey.
A shadow darkens the light streaming in from the windows across the aisle. My stomach twists. I risk glancing up, bracing for the worst—The Spider, aka Todd, demanding me back, which he’s done several times since, and I quote, “You humiliated me on my wedding day in front of my friends and family.”
Reality check, buddy. I think the sidepiece had something to do with that. All the same, he won’t let it, er, me, go.
Instead, a man with a sizeable paunch, weasel-like eyes, and greasy hair points at me or the vacant seat, I can’t be sure. “I was hoping for the window.”
His teeth are kind of pointy.
A flight attendant stands by his side as if anticipating she might have to wrangle him into his seat like an unruly toddler. “Sorry, sir. Your ticket is for this seat. Please make yourself comfortable. We’re getting ready to taxi to the runway.”
With a shrug, I proffer an apologetic smile. “I guess it’s too late to switch.”
Like a grubby creature that dragged itself out of a gutter after feasting all night on discarded pizza crusts and chicken bones, the man-animal grunts and pushes his way past the older woman who angles her phone from side to side like a hologram sticker.
“Mind yourself, young man,” she says when he drops into the seat, bumping into her.
Manimal doesn’t bother to apologize and crowds me with a grubby plastic grocery bag tied tightly at the top and a dirty backpack that he drops on my foot as he shoves it under the seat. I’d rather it were Blade from the bus stop. At least he didn’t smell like cat pee.
The creature next to me kicks off his faux leather loafers and then elbows me as he reclines in his seat. “Betcha wish you traded with me now, huh?”
My friendly smile dips when a dirty, cheesy odor filters from below.
“I wish I could afford a first-class ticket,” I mutter.
“Don’t we all?” he replies.
His coarse inconsideration and traveling first-class remind me of Todd, someone I’m desperate to forget. Though Todd wasn’t an offense to my olfactory senses and presented himself with impeccable business attire.
I shift closer to the window, trying to put as much room between this barefoot grease weasel and myself as possible.
Another flight attendant appears, checking safety belts, seatbacks, and tray tables. “Excuse me, sir,” he says.
Manimal’s eyes are closed and he doesn’t respond.
“Sir,” he repeats and then shakes his head. Turning to me, he says, “Ma’am, we’re preparing for take-off. Could you please ask your dad to put his seat in a full and upright position?”
“My dad?” I stammer.
He takes a second look at me and winces. “Your husband?”
Easy enough mistake to make since Manimal spills over to my seat like he wants to snuggle. “I’m not married—” But my left hand with the slim band circling my finger tells a different story. It tells the truth. “I’m not married to him,” I correct.
The flight attendant huffs and moves to jostle Manimal awake. But the older woman in the aisle seat merely swats him on the arm and says, “Put your seat back up, buddy bucko.”
He blinks a few times and then obeys before closing his eyes and resuming his snore.
“Sometimes you have to be direct.” The older woman extends her hand for me to shake. “I’m Gudrun Sprunk, but my friends call me Goodie.” She winks at me. “I have a feeling we’re going to bond during this transatlantic adventure, so you can call me Goodie.”
I can’t help but smile. “I’m Everly. Nice to meet you. Any tips for how to get Manimal here to put his shoes back on?”
She laughs. “When the flight attendant brings beverages, I’ll get some ice in an extra-large cup. That oughta do the trick.”
Despite the slimy, porky, and rank rodent disguised as a human between us, snoring like a grizzly that swallowed a goose whole, maybe this will be a good flight after all.
“So, what are you in here for?” she asks.
I lean forward, not quite picking up Goodie’s meaning.
“Why are you confined to this metal missile that’s about to hurtle through the heavens?”
“Not a fan of flying?”
“No. I’m old-fashioned. Prefer my feet on the ground, my hands in the dirt, and the sun over my head.
Oh, and I love homemade bread.” She pats a paper bag.
“My sister lives in Concordia and has faced some health challenges. Had to have surgery, so I’m visiting to help while she recovers. ” She winks. “It’s a surprise.”
“I wish I had a sister.” I’m thankful for everything Heidi did, but Goodie’s gesture gives me all the feels at how thoughtful and selfless it is, considering she’s not a fan of flying.
“No siblings?”
I shake my head. “But the answer to your question about why I’m traveling has two parts.”
“Oh, like a movie with a sequel?” But the maternal look she gives me suggests she understands the circumstances aren’t entirely sunny and if Manimal weren’t between us, she’d hug me, no questions asked.
Carrying all this baggage around is starting to wear me out and Goodie seems like the exact type of mom or grandma that you’d spill your life story to and won’t make it weird. I kind of need that kind of closure right now as I say goodbye to the past.
“For the first act, I’m kind of on the run from my ex-fiancé, who I stood up at the altar. He was cheating, so it was for the best. For the second, I’m also recovering from surgery. Cancer. The bad gene. Double mastectomy.”
She nods slowly, like she can fill in the blanks.
“Actually, there’s a third. I’m starting a new job.”