Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
JANUARY 6 YEARS AGO
M y knee bounces with excitement as I ride in the backseat of an Uber on the way to the airport. I’m going to Washington D.C. today. I’m going to see Warren today.
He hasn’t even been gone a full month, but I’d commit crimes to see him for only seconds. He’s been pretty busy settling into his apartment and job there, so even when we were able to FaceTime, he’d often end up falling asleep on the call. I didn’t mind though, I’d just cuddle up in his T-shirts I’ve been collecting since he told me he was leaving and pretend it was his arms around me. Being able to see him sleep just as I’ve always been able to is a comfort I didn’t know I needed.
He might be states away but he’s still mine, and that’s all I really need.
I booked this ticket to see him the day he left, and I’ve been counting down the days until it arrived. The only reason I didn’t book it earlier is because I was holding out hope that he’d eventually ask me to come with him.
I close my eyes tight and try to erase that thought from my mind. This trip is for good things only, not things I wish happened. We can still make this work, we’re going to make this work.
“Which airline?” the driver asks and I open my eyes. We’re pulling up to the departure’s terminal.
“American,” I say, and he nods.
It’s only another minute before he pulls over and wishes me safe travels. I mumble a “Thanks,” but all of my attention is turned to the building that will take me one step closer to seeing my man.
I just have a carry-on for the weekend trip, so I head straight to security and groan when it’s a long line. I’m inpatient, anxious, excited, and I can’t stand still. I’m bouncing in line, stepping side to side almost in a dance because I have so much adrenaline coursing through me. My movements draw the attention of the TSA workers, but I’m too antsy to be able to stop. Their eyes stay glued to me, probably interpreting my happiness as nervousness of being caught.
They must be so cautious of me that they bring out the dog to sniff the line. Three sets of uniformed eyes watch as I pass by the dog, it sniffs, and keeps going, but it’s apparently not enough to halt their suspicions because I just happen to get pulled for a hand swab test and my bag gets searched. The man searching my bag asks where I’m going, and I grin.
“I’m going to see my boyfriend,” I say, excitement evident in my words. I can’t stop speaking, needing to tell another person about my plans. “You see, he just got a new job and moved to DC, so I haven’t seen him in a month and?—”
The man quickly closes my bag, fights an eye roll at the piles of lingerie he found, and grumbles, “Have a good trip.”
I can’t tell if he was actually done searching the bag or just wanted me to shut up. I stare at him another second before shrugging, grabbing my bag, and practically skipping towards my gate.
Once I arrive at my gate. I pull a book out of my bag. I try to read but I can’t focus, so I plug in my headphones and put on a TV show I downloaded last night. But a few minutes later I couldn’t tell you a single thing that happened, so I shut that off too. The only thing that holds my attention is the screen with the words Washington D.C. and boarding in fifty minutes. I watch it count down.
Forty-five minutes.
Thirty-five.
Thirty.
Hurry up.
I’m shaking so much I almost miss my phone vibrating, and I practically squeal when it’s his name I see. The people sitting around me glance my way, but I’m too happy to care.
“Hi, my love,” I coo into the phone. “I’m at the gate just waiting to board. It’s taking forever though.”
It’s quiet on the other side—a chilling quiet that sends a shiver through me.
“Warren?” My voice waivers, suddenly uncertain.
“You’re already at the airport,” he says, his voice is cold and distant. I don’t recognize it. I don’t like it. “I was hoping to catch you before you got there.”
“What do you mean?” I squeak, my stomach twisting. Something’s wrong.
“You shouldn’t come see me.” His words are matter-of-fact, emotionless. They’re a knife that’s slicing through me. They’re my greatest fears coming to life.
“Is it not a good time?” I try to be understanding, a lot is changing for him too. I could just be getting ahead of myself. “I can resched?—”
“No.” He cuts me off with the one word that feels like a fatal blow to my heart. “I don’t mean you shouldn’t come now. I mean you shouldn’t come ever.”
“What?” The word barely makes an audible sound. He didn’t say that, did he? I heard wrong. I had to have heard him wrong.
“This isn’t going to work, Analise.” He continues as if he doesn’t hear me. “We were kidding ourselves to think it could.”
“Warren—” I start.
“Goodbye, Analise.” His voice wavers for just a moment before the line goes dead.
I keep the phone to my ear, staring straight ahead. That’s it? That’s all he’s going to say? After everything we’ve been through, he’s not even going to give me an explanation?
All of my adrenaline turns into anger and I call him back.
“Motherfucker,” I curse under my breath when it goes straight to voicemail. Did he turn his fucking phone off? Did he block my number already?
The longer I sit there, my anger slowly fades to sadness and pain. The reality of what just happened hits me like a train.
Oh. My. God.
Warren just broke up with me.
I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with him. Fall asleep in his arms, wake up to his kisses, and grow old with his banter. Our path was set, clear skies, no turbulence—a smooth ride. But I guess we veered off course and entered the Bermuda Triangle when I wasn’t paying attention, because now everything is lost, suddenly disappeared. That life, that path, no longer exists and I don’t think it’ll get rediscovered.
Sometimes those lost planes and ships get found years later, or in shows they just reappear, unaware that so many years have passed in the real world. But that’s not realistic. Warren doesn’t make impulsive decisions. If he’s breaking up with me, then that means we’re done for good.
What the hell happened to all of those promises he made me not even a month ago? How do you tell someone you’ll love them forever, that you can’t imagine your life without them, and then break up with them over the phone a few weeks later?
He told me he loved me enough that the distance wouldn’t matter.
He told me we would make it work.
But it took less than a month to settle into life without me. To leave me. There wasn’t even enough time to try to make this work. He just gave up on me, on us.
“Flight 5044 with service to Washington D.C. will begin boarding momentarily.” The voice over the intercom is cheery and happy and I want to yell at the attendants. There’s nothing to be happy about. How can they not see that the world is ending? My world is ending. And they’re happy.
Five minutes until boarding.
It now counts down until my heart will shatter beyond repair.
Slowly, the people around me stand and get in line. Pre-boarding begins. Then the groups start, but I just sit and watch everyone else move on with their life as mine stays frozen. I sit and watch until the last person has gotten on the plane. Until they’ve called my name over the speakers. Until they’ve given up on me—just like he did—and finally close the doors. Until the plane leaves the gate and starts barreling towards the person I want to see more than anything in this world, without me on it. Until the tears start to flow and I grow tired of the judging stares.
I text Ali and ask her to pick me up from the airport—I don’t want to be alone right now—then I slowly trudge out of the terminal, leave security, and pass baggage claim. The airport isn’t far from us, so it’s not long before her red car stops in front of me. I’ve been holding it together as well as I can but as soon as I shut the door behind me I break down.
I sob.
I wail.
I can’t breathe.
I don’t want to breathe.
Her hand grabs mine and it grounds me enough to grit out, “He broke up with me.”
“He what ?” she screams.
“He called and told me not to get on the plane.”
I’m hyperventilating. There’s too much air but it’s not doing its job. I don’t want it to. I need to breathe. I don’t know what I want. Except him. I want him to call and say he made a mistake.
But he never does.