by Hudson Lin
Vivian pulled out her phone.
“Hey, Dad.” Her voice rang too high and too forced in her own head. “I’m at Buckingham Palace. Just me this time. No Marco.” She paused and waited for the sudden pain to pass. “See the flag above the building? It’s at full mast. That means the Queen is in residence. Maybe she’s looking out a window at me now!” She chuckled dryly at her own bad joke. Even those weren’t as funny without Marco. Damn it. She took a selfie and a panoramic shot, then moved on.
She strolled through St. James Park, passing couples walking hand in hand and children feeding the swans. “You know, Dad,” she said into the phone as she captured the scene around her. “You should come with me. I could take extra days off work so we can take our time visiting someplace new. We can even rent a wheelchair if you want. What do you think? Athens. Barcelona. Edinburgh.”
She stopped at the edge of a pond, phone in hand. It was wishful thinking. Hoping for a day that might never come. She paused the video and slipped the phone into her pocket.
Vivian made her way to Westminster Abbey, then on to Big Ben and the Palace of Westminster where the British government held court. It should have all been very impressive, but somehow the old buildings looked tired, and the intricate architecture felt flat. She stopped along the River Thames and watched the crowds stream past her on the street while boats zoomed by on the water. She took a few more half-hearted selfies. Then she hopped onto a river bus and settled into a window seat as it sailed east.
It had been Marco’s idea to take the river bus. Not that Vivian wouldn’t have figured it out on her own. But she still wondered what weird and random facts he would’ve had for all the places they sailed past.
The giant Ferris wheel vaulted into the sky on her left. The top of St. Paul’s Cathedral peeked up from behind some buildings, and the white walls of Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre sat like a beacon along the river’s edge. London Bridge was nowhere near as impressive as the song made it out to be, but then after that came Tower Bridge with its two castle-like towers and robin’s-egg-blue paint. A red double-decker bus happened to be crossing as they approached.
Vivian recorded it with some commentary smattered throughout. She tried to sound excited, but when she replayed a portion of the video, she cringed. A part of her wanted to delete it all, but her dad would lecture her ear off if she did that. She got off the boat at Tower Pier and wandered past the Tower of London. Her phone pinged with a message.
Marco: In case you’re hungry and you’re in the area, this place has great fish & chips.
Next came a link to local restaurant that wasn’t far from where she was. How the hell had he known? She shouldn’t go, just to spite him. Yet Vivian’s feet were suddenly taking her in that direction, like she was being physically drawn to him. Her pulse jumped as she spotted the restaurant, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She tried to ignore the feeling. He might have recommended the place, but that didn’t mean Marco was sitting in there waiting for her. He must have better things to do with his time than waste a whole day hoping she’d show up.
Vivian’s steps slowed as she drew up to the restaurant, hope battling with doubt in her mind. She put a hand on the door, took a fortifying breath, and pushed. A bell tinkled, and she squinted as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer lighting. There was a smattering of people inside. But no one with neatly-combed, thick black hair, no one with gentle eyes and a warm smile.
Vivian’s heart sank under the weight of disappointment. God, she was such a fool. Actually hoping that he would be there. That he would apologize for being a dick and ask that they pick up where they left off. That he’d take her hand and lead her back out into London and show her the sights through his magic lens that made everything more interesting.
She ordered her food and ate every bite with a vengeance. Her brain only vaguely registered the crispy batter and flaky white fish inside, the perfect crunch of the fries and the tangy hit of the tartar sauce. She would eat the damn fish and chips, and she would enjoy the rest of her day, and she wouldn’t moon over Marco.
Because she was an independent woman, and she didn’t need no man telling her where to find good food. She stuffed the last fry in her mouth and scrunched the greasy paper into a ball while imagining it was Marco’s head. She tossed it into the garbage with a satisfying thunk and marched back out onto the street.
Chapter Seven
Clare ducked into the business class section where all the flight attendants had gathered. “I spoke with the captain. The flight’s delayed.”
Everyone groaned. Great. Now they were stuck in Heathrow Airport, their passengers were going to get cranky up in the terminal, and worst of all, they wouldn’t get paid for all the wasted time.
“Air traffic control spotted some drones in the airspace, so no in- or outbound flights until they can find its operator,” Clare explained.
“Idiots,” someone muttered. “This could take hours. Remember when this happened last month?”
Vivian hadn’t been working the Europe line at the time, but she’d heard the stories. The airport had been effectively out of commission for an entire day, and hundreds of flights were canceled, some rerouted to Gatwick. When the police finally found the guy responsible, it was some kid who was trying to play a practical joke.
“I’ll go back to the terminal for a water and snack run. Anyone want anything?” Marco started taking orders, working his way around the group. When he got to her, his expression was tight. “Vivian?”
Her heart thumped at her name on his lips. She shook her head and cleared her throat before speaking. “No, I’m good. Thank you.”
He looked like he was going to say something more, but then he nodded and walked away. It was a good thing Clare had put them in different sections that flight. She wouldn’t last the entire eight-hour flight having to tip toe around him again.
Her phone started buzzing. Unknown caller.
“Hello?” She answered.
“Vivian Ng?” Came a female voice.
“Yes, who is this?”
“Hi Vivian, this is Zaynab Hassan, from Spring Oaks, where your father lives.”
Vivian stepped toward the back of the plane, her pulse skyrocketing. “Yes, hi, Zaynab. Is everything okay?”
“Uh, yes.” Zaynab’s hesitation only exasperated Vivian’s worry. She gripped a headrest with one hand. “Your father fell down earlier today, and he’s broken his hip.”
“What? How did he fall? Is he okay? Has he seen a doctor?” Vivian clutched her phone like she could wring the answers out of it.
“He’s okay at the moment. I’m at St. Michael’s Hospital with him, and the doctor has already seen him.”
“Can I talk to him?” She couldn’t be sure he was okay until she’d heard his voice.
Zaynab let out another hesitant sound. “He’s heavily sedated at the moment, so I can’t put him on the phone, unfortunately. But I can assure you he’s being looked after.” She took a breath. “Actually, this is why I’m calling. Your father needs to undergo surgery to fix the broken hip. They’ll be prepping him for the OR soon.”
“What?” Vivian’s heart lodged in her throat. “When? How soon? I’m in London right now, and all flights are grounded. I don’t know when I’ll be able to make it back.”
“I understand. Please try not to worry. I’m going to be here with your father the entire time. He won’t be alone, I promise.”
No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. This was her worst nightmare come true. “Can they postpone the surgery? Can they wait until I’m back? Push it back to tomorrow at least.” She wanted to be there before her dad went into surgery. She needed to see him, to make sure he was okay, to talk to the doctor and understand what they were going to do to him.
“Unfortunately, it can’t wait that long. A broken hip is something they have to fix right away, or there could be more serious complications down the road.” Zaynab was apologetic, and it was taking everything Vivian had no
t to yell at her. “Please try not to worry. I’ll be sure to send you any updates as they happen.”
No, goddamnit. That wasn’t good enough. She shouldn’t be stuck on the other side of an ocean while her dad went into surgery. “Yeah, okay.” She choked out. “Th-Thank you.” Vivian hung up the call and held her phone to her chest. Cold tendrils of fear threaded through her bones, and she began to shake. Her dad had to be okay. He was all she had left. What was she going to do without him?
“Hey, you okay?” Marco appeared at her side. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
Vivian wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t want to tell Marco, didn’t need his concern. But the words came tumbling out before she could stop them. “My dad fell and broke his hip. He’s at St. Mike’s. They need to operate on him.”
“Oh shit. I’m so sorry.” He shifted like he was going to draw her into a hug. Vivian stiffened, and Marco hesitated. “Is he going to be okay?”
She shook her head in a stilted, jerky motion. “I don’t know. Broken hips are supposed to be bad, I think. Like, people die from them.” Her breath hitched, and she pressed her hand to her mouth. Oh God, her dad couldn’t die. He couldn’t. What would she do without him?
Marco’s eyes grew wide. “I’m sure that’s not going to happen. He’s at the hospital. The doctors will take care of him.”
“I need to get home.” Vivian spun on her heel and scanned the area for Clare. She needed an update on the damn drone situation.
“Everything’s still grounded,” Marco said, like he’d read her mind.
“Fuck.” She brushed her fingers across her forehead, but her bangs were already pinned back.
“Hey, don’t freak out.” Marco put a hand on her shoulder and led her into a seat. “Sit, try to breathe. I’ll get you something warm to drink, okay?”
Vivian sat, then jumped up. “There’s that other flight out to Toronto. They were scheduled earlier than us, they should have priority once the ground delay is lifted. Maybe I can switch with someone on that flight. It’ll still take me forever to get home, but at least I can save a couple of hours.”
Marco looked skeptical. “I guess it can’t hurt to ask. Do you want me to do that for you?”
“No.” Vivian marched toward the front of the plane. She was off the aircraft before he could stop her, racing up the jet bridge as he called her name.
The other flight was only two gates down, but the gate staff wouldn’t let her down to the plane to talk to the flight’s service director.
“Please,” she pleaded with the grim older woman. “It’s important. It’s an emergency. I have to talk to someone on that crew. Can you ask one of them to come up to the terminal?”
The woman was not impressed but finally picked up the radio and called down to the plane. Vivian fidgeted in place as she waited, the seconds ticking past while her father was half a world away. It took forever, and by the time someone showed up, she could barely string a coherent sentence together.
“I’m sorry,” the service director said. “We’re all anxious to get home. It’s not really protocol for us to switch like this.”
“But please,” Vivian begged. “My dad is going into surgery. I need to get home as soon as possible.”
“I understand. But we’re all grounded right now anyway. No one is going anywhere. Your flight will only be an hour, maybe two behind us at the most. I’m sorry.”
Vivian stood stunned and speechless as the service director disappeared back down the jet bridge. She couldn’t believe it. They switched flights all the time. Sometimes people didn’t show up for their shift at all, and there was always a reserve ready to step in last minute. The crew was never really finalized until everyone was on board. It shouldn’t have been such a big deal. A stray tear escaped the corner of her eye.
“Hey, what did they say?” Marco appeared again, always at her side when things were falling apart.
She ducked her head and wiped away the tear before he could notice.
“Shit.” Marco put a hand on her shoulder, and it took everything she had not to turn into the comfort he offered.
She took a shaky breath and let it out in huffs.
“Let’s take a walk.” Marco slid his hand down to her elbow and gently led her away from the gate. “Passengers freak when they see us freak.”
She let him lead her, arms wrapped around her waist, not caring where they ended up. She should have been at home with her dad, to help him and catch him when he slipped. She should have been at the hospital to talk to the doctors, to figure out what the best medical treatment was. The nurses at Spring Oaks were nice, but they weren’t family.
“Don’t beat yourself up about this,” Marco said. “Old people fall all the time. It’s not unusual.”
Vivian tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
“He could have fallen even if you were there. You can’t watch him twenty-four seven.”
She blinked to keep the tears from falling.
“Besides, he wouldn’t have wanted you to give up your job for him. Isn’t that why he moved into the seniors living place to begin with? So you could keep traveling without having to worry about him?”
Vivian sniffled as more tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped at them with the back of her hand. Marco held out a paper napkin he must have stolen from the plane. Always helpful Marco. Always anticipating. Perfect in every way except he didn’t want her. So why was he still being so nice?
“Some things are outside of our control.”
“I know.” Frustration made her words harsh.
Marco snapped his mouth shut.
“I need some time to myself, please.” Vivian stopped walking, willing Marco to leave her to her panic.
“Are you sure?” Worry etched a notch into Marco’s brow.
“I’m sure.”
Marco hesitated, but after a moment he nodded and left.
Watching him walk away, a part of her wanted to call him back. But no, it was better this way. Her dad was her responsibility alone. She’d taken care of her parents all by herself for years; she didn’t need him now.
Taking a breath, she scanned the terminal. She was in some hallway between gates, a row of uncomfortable airport chairs sat in front of the glass wall overlooking the tarmac. Somewhere out there was a stupid person with a stupid drone keeping her from her dad.
Vivian sat on the edge of a seat, legs bouncing with the itch to go home. Broken hip. What were the treatments for that? Broken hip surgery, she typed into the search bar and immediately regretted it.
Twenty-five percent of seniors who break their hips will die within one year of the injury.
Leading causes of death are blood clots, pneumonia, and infection.
Fifty percent will have to use a cane to walk.
Recovery time could include weeks in the hospital and physical therapy for months afterward.
Vivian dropped the phone into her lap and leaned back against the seat, staring blankly up at the ceiling. She wanted to scream, to hit something, to commandeer the plane and fly the damn thing home herself. Uselessness bound her like a straitjacket, immobilizing and suffocating. She shot from her seat, phone falling to the floor. She paced, one hand on her hip, the other on her forehead, as if that could clear her mind of all the worst-case scenarios running through it.
She’d have to quit her job and stay home to take care of her dad. At the very least she’d have to ask for a leave of absence. Maybe she should get one of those vans for wheelchairs, so she could drive him to physical therapy. What if he never walked again? What if he never got out of the hospital?
She was going crazy.
“Vivian.” Marco again. Didn’t the guy ever give up?
She bit back a retort. “Yeah?”
“I’ve been trying to call you.” He held up his phone.
“Have we been given clearance for takeoff?” Vivian rushed over, patting her pockets. Where the hell was her phone?
“No, n
ot yet.”
“Oh.” She spotted it on the floor and grabbed it. It showed several missed calls from Marco.
“So, um, don’t be mad.” Marco’s natural confidence was nowhere in sight.
Vivian cocked her head. “About what?”
“I know you’re completely capable of handling things yourself, and I wasn’t trying to do your job for you.” Marco spoke with his hands slightly raised as if in precaution.
Whatever he was dithering on about, Vivian didn’t have the energy for. “What did you do?” She spat out with impatience.
“I talked with the crew of the other flight, and someone’s agreed to switch with you.” The words tumbled out of him like the faster he said them the less likely she would snap at him.
Vivian had to replay it in her head to hear it. “What? How? I asked, and they wouldn’t even consider it.”
Marco’s grin was slow and wary. “I know some of the crew on that flight, including the first officer.” He stopped to cough at the mention of the co-pilot. “I called in some favors.”
Vivian wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed at Marco for once again stepping in where he hadn’t been invited, or curious about what kind of favor exactly he’d called in. But it didn’t matter. She threw herself at him. He stumbled back a step before getting his balance and wrapping his arms around her.
“Thank you. Oh my God, thank you.”
“You’re not mad at me?”
She pulled back an inch, the indecision warring inside her. “No, not this time. I’m more annoyed at myself for not being able to convince them.”
“You don’t always have to do everything on your own, you know. It’s okay to get help from others.”
He was right, and she knew it. Not that she’d admit it to him. As kind and generous as he was, he had no right to say things like that to her, not when they were nothing more than colleagues.