by J. S. Badham
“Where is he going?” she blurted out, pointing to the empty space that had held the SUV.
Kyle parted his lips gently, then he said, “Zack hasn’t spoken to you?”
“No, no.” Claire shook her head, unable to keep still on the spot. “Where is he going? He can’t just leave like that. I need to speak to him! He—” Her breathless plea was cut off by Kyle’s comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Whoa, whoa. Zack’s got a sudden business trip to Japan,” he said, his words feeling like a tsunami hitting her flat in the face.
“What?”
“Yeah…I thought that you two might have—”
“I need to see him! I have to get to the airport!” she cried out, desperately racing back to the curb as she scanned for a black cab.
Kyle placed his coffee on a nearby bench, drawing up to Claire’s side as he registered her emotional state. “I’ll take you,” he offered, scooping out his car keys from his trouser pocket. “Come on.” They raced to his car.
One more chance. One more chance.
Chapter Twenty-One
The scent of sterile, pinewood disinfectant stung Zack’s nostrils as he casually skimmed his eyes across the depressing horizon with the onset of the afternoon sun in the background shining over the planes.
He wasn’t as tied up as other travelling passengers who had to rely on the airlines to prep the plane for flight…no, Zack was fortunate that he could request an immediate private small jet at any accessible airport. The only delay he had to experience was the transfer of his luggage and the exclusive, dodge-the-queue security checks.
Zack exhaled, his elbows resting on his thighs with his hands clasped in between the centre of his legs, and with the dreary expression superglued to the stretch of his face, he looked quite drastically different to the intimidating man he was a few hours ago. You would have thought he would have been happy, proud that he had made changes to his business. You would have thought he’d be satisfied that he could promote Claire to the position he knew she had only dreamed of. But he wasn’t happy. No, he was fed up.
The man who would have looked forward to the several hours in flight accompanied with the hot air hostess, three course meals, and a healthy glass of champagne was petrified. Had been since that attack of the warm, fuzzy feeling that powered the fear that if he ever lost it, he would become a crippling mess entangled in a deep, black hole unable to escape. Perhaps that was a little dramatic, but for a man who had fallen in love for the first time, he was every inch vulnerable.
“Sir.” One of the airline attendants smiled as she passed him his passport. “Everything is on the green light. We’re just doing our routine checks and then you’ll be set to head off,” she explained, flashing her dazzling set of pearly whites followed with her deep, red lipstick that any other day Zack would have been quick to flirt with her.
He cleared his throat, taking his passport from her hand. “Thank you.” Just a polite nod as he shuffled back into the leather chair. Surrounding him, he could hear the odd flutes of champagne, pink prosecco, or merely apple or orange juice clink from whatever occasion these affluent travellers were celebrating.
Zack had already stumbled upon the magazine, neatly situated on the end corner table. In big, bold print, it read his name, and on pages four to five, there rested his picture and the short interview conducted, along with background information. He couldn’t stand the sight of it, so he already had tucked it under some brochure on some airline’s extravagant deals on trips to Dubai that ticked the prices of above £3,000 per passenger and that was only for the plane ticket.
If things didn’t fix themselves, then perhaps he could see this as a learning curve, refuse to fall in love again or attempt to go back to his old, boisterous ways. Either way, he was hoping that wouldn’t be the case. Part of him felt utterly stupid for leaving like that, a coward to stand up to his fears and talk things out. Yet he’d tried that. And twice, perhaps even three times, she wasn’t having it. And then when that weekend happened, it really destroyed him. Zack knew that. He couldn’t understand how someone who was supposed to love him would avenge what he mistakenly did, to break his heart and make him feel as disposable as a packet of crisps thrown on the pavement. He hated that feeling. Hated feeling like he wasn’t worth the time and, in that context, just a quick fuck to make someone else feel better. It broke his confidence. And because of that, here he was, stubborn as all mighty and reluctant to give it another shot because of the fear that it could further shatter him.
Maybe part of him was already trying to move on. Just moments before he arrived in the VIP room, he finally got around to deleting her unheard voicemails one after the other. Perhaps Zack had already given up or he was just scared.
Picking up his glass of water, he swallowed the liquid, feeling as if he were suddenly intaking a bowl of cement down his neck. It was just fucking him up.
From the distance, even despite the classical music playing softly in the background of the room, he could hear the alerting late passengers to board some flight to New York that they should have boarded thirty minutes ago.
It was a comfort being in an airport. Zack could always remember and would experience the exact feeling of excitement fill the walls of his lungs and stomach. There just wasn’t anything better than being dropped off at an airport and knowing in a matter of several hours you could be on the way to some other part of the world. It was a lot easier for Zack to travel when he was a kid; money didn’t come short nor did the exotic destinations. No matter how many times he was tucked up in that seat staring anxiously out the small window, thrilled with the small tiny, visible, orange jacketed men at dawn or dusk carrying out their safety checks, he’d always have that same feeling—the one that felt like eating a well-made meal. As a grown man, it became at times less and less, used to exploring the elite décor, fed gourmet food and in-flight comfort, because for a man who could buy a ticket anytime for anywhere around the world, it became lonely and the same old.
***
Kyle
Kyle didn’t even need to pick out his car as already Claire was hurrying to the side of his grey sports convertible, desperately holding onto the handle. Getting into the driver’s seat, Kyle shoved in the key, permitting the engine to roar to life as from the corner of his eyes, he could see Claire anxiously fastening her seatbelt. He could hear her sniffling, dry tears against her cheeks, deepening the guilt he felt for his part to play in all of this.
He gave a little juice to the pedal, and the car rocked into motion, heading to the surface from the underground parking. “Claire,” he began warily. “I’m sorry about all this shit. I feel bad. If I hadn’t—”
***
Claire
“None of this is your fault, Kyle,” she weakly said, saddened to hear her hoarse, slightly raspy voice. “We’re just two stubborn people scared to commit…I never intended to fall in love with Zack, and nor did he.” She pushed back a flyaway behind her ear as she focused her attention on the road.
Kyle offered a sympathetic smile. “We’ll get there, Claire. I promise I’ll get you there.”
Claire registered his sincerity. “Thank you.”
Outside was another picture. They hadn’t even passed work as they were stuck in lunch hour traffic, also accompanied with the few patches of roadwork going on. It just didn’t seem at all hopeful for Claire as she quietly squeezed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them, she’d be in Zack’s arms or at least breathing in the same room as him.
Kyle could see her distress, so he turned off the radio that he only realised was playing in the background. All they could hear and see was the wash of the wiper blades consistently sliding back and forth at the slow downfall of rain. Way to make a person feel any better, Kyle thought as he glimpsed at the dark, stormy grey skies. His father always used to tell him as a kid, grey skies was God having a shower—not that they were religious, but it just always was the way.
“I know this isn’t
…going to make you feel any better, or maybe it will, but Zack does…love you, Claire,” Kyle comforted, slowing the car as the brake lights from the car ahead piped on. “He’s…a right mess without you.”
Claire nodded, still with a saddened expression but no words.
“I’m also sorry to hear about your friend’s boyfriend. I know Zack seemed brave about it all, but it sucked for him. How is your…friend?” Kyle asked, not knowing if speaking was the right thing to do, but he couldn’t help it; he just had the need to talk when he got a little too jumpy.
She swallowed. “Thank you,” she muttered, pausing before answering his question. “He’s moving to London. He needs a fresh start, and it’s…where J-Jonas…got his promotion and where they were going to move, so Darren has gone to follow their dream.” Another sad thought that she wouldn’t see her friend daily.
“He’ll be…fine,” Kyle muttered, unsure if his reassurance sounded weak. “And…so will you.”
Claire looked down to her cold, numb hands. “I just hope it’s not too late.”
“It won’t be.”
“I really…hope so.”
Kyle crossed over the main road heading out of the city, following the signs that suddenly appeared giving them en route to the city’s airport.
There was once this one story that Claire had read. It was one of those stories that left you with an open ending, left to your interpretation. Some hated those type of endings, the ones where it left you without a happy ending or sad but made it so you should have to think, dwell on it for weeks to come, wondering whatever happened to those characters. Did they make it? Did it cruelly go wrong for them?
This one she read was quite different, nothing cliché with the married life, kids, and flashing lights in romance novels in the end. Instead, the couple who had went through everything lost everything and attempted to fix it; there was no ending line to prove if it was ever resolved.
In the end, on the train platform where they promised to meet, the man standing nervously biting his nails, red scarf whipping in his face from the autumn chill, popped to the toilets, thus missing the train. The girl who was anxiously glancing out the train window saw his figure walking away, a thought popping into her mind that he didn’t want this, and so she remained on the train, and when he returned, she wasn’t on the platform waiting for him. So an open ending. It made Claire ponder for nights on end, wondering if they found each other, one rang up and the mistake was resolved. Whether they had the kids, marriage, or home?
Love is unpredictable.
Kyle was hitting the forties now as he accelerated down the long road that was heading onto the motorway. They hadn’t spoken for the last ten minutes; Claire was fidgeting more by the second and holding that same sombre look.
Above already, she could see a huge double decker and single planes passing over, taking flight to another world, another time and place, whilst others could be landing.
The rain had also stopped, and the clouds were less dark than they were back in the central city.
“I really hope he’s here,” Claire muttered, squeezing the palms of her hands together as she closed her eyes. Kyle was heading into the terminal for international flights. Already, he could see the odd taxi filing out passengers who were collecting their suitcases. A little girl with ponytails and a pink rabbit in her hand joyfully pushed her tiny suitcase around as her parents dished across the cash for payment. And then as they as they passed them, it was like a movie scene seeing another emotional scene of a young adult hugging his distressed mother who was watching her brave boy head off into the world.
Claire was unfastening her seatbelt, sitting up more eagerly as she scanned the terminal platform, wondering if perhaps she would see Zack. “Where are you? Where are you?” she muttered frantically.
“I’ll park us in the short stay,” Kyle said, turning right and heading away from the airport, causing a gasp in her throat. “Then if I’m correct, Zack should be…I mean will be in the VIP boarding rooms. Okay?”
She nodded several times, sitting back as she inhaled and exhaled, almost panting as she dug her nails into her palms.
Kyle parked the car. Getting quickly out, he locked the car then hurried after Claire. “Claire! Wait!” he called after her, finding himself suddenly in a chase as she ran back the way they came.
Claire wasn’t even thinking straight as she raced to the revolving doors where departures were heading off to their sunny destinations. “Claire!” She heard her name several times more, but she refused to slow down. The stair escalators were just ahead, destined for the second floor where it would bring people towards their check-ins.
She dodged past people, choosing the stairs instead as she climbed them rapidly, forgetting that even as she reached the second floor, she had no clue where she was going and was left in a heated maze of travellers pulling along suitcases and others heading straight onto security checks.
“Claire!” Kyle panted, hunching his back over. “Slow down! I need to catch—”
“I’m sorry,” she apologised, feeling guilty for heading off like that. Resting her hand on his back, she allowed him to breathe and just for that moment ignored that twitching feeling telling her to race off. “Do you know where he’ll be?”
Kyle exhaled, standing up. “Yes, maybe. But we won’t be able to access some parts as we’re required to actually be paying travellers…but…” Exhaling once more, he brushed back some sweat from his forehead. “I know a shortcut.”
Claire nodded, this time walking as she followed Kyle, who headed to where all the duty-free, restaurants, and bars were stacked in the centre of the airport. Already, she felt like she was seeing things, odd men who had the thick, black mop of hair that churned anxiety through her stomach.
“I have a pass, which means I can get to the VIP. I’m a regular flyer, so they might let me even if I’m not intending to fly today, which I hope is not the case,” Kyle joked, taking a right turn. “But I know he hasn’t left yet.”
Claire nodded, absent-minded as she took in the sight of crowds of people passing by.
Kyle stopped at a door; a golden plaque adjacent said it was exclusive for its affluent flyers. Walking in, he stopped at the desk where a ginger-haired attendant smiled, suspicious by their flustered state.
“Can I help you, sir? This is for our exclusive guests. Checks in are also back that way along with the security—”
“I have a pass,” he cut her off, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket as he frantically searched for the membership. “Look.” He focused on his wallet. “I need to reach my friend, who is heading off to Japan. Zack Benson. I’m Kyle Wickes, a friend, and this is…” He paused as he pondered what was appropriate to Claire’s status, “…his girlfriend. I have no flight booked, but it’s important that I get to him.” He slid the card alongside his driver’s licence for ID.
“I’m sorry, sir.” She smiled politely. “But we don’t usually allow even our customers to enter without—”
“Look…” He paused as he quickly read her name tag. “Jenny, right? I need to get in there. This is a crisis. I’m a paying VIP, and I can promise I have no intention to sneak onto a plane. I just want to see my friend.”
“Sir—”
“Money? How much? I’m willing to pay. Just please, Jenny, let me see Mr. Benson,” Kyle begged, tapping his finger against the desk.
The attendant’s smile deflated a little. “I—”
“Please,” Kyle said once more.
Her lips gaped open a little before she nodded. “Okay, but I’ll have to let Mr. Benson know first. Your name, Kyle Wickes, correct?”
Kyle nodded. “Yes, just say his friend needs to urgently see him.”
The attendant nodded before slipping away through the double, purple-tinted doors.
“Thank you, Kyle,” Claire said, grasping his hand as she squeezed it tight. “Thank you, thank you.”
Kyle blushed. “You’re welcome.”
> It must have only been three seconds later, and Jenny the attendant returned, nodding. “Yes, you can enter. Mr. Benson is sitting straight ahead.”
Kyle thanked her then turned to Claire. “It’s best if you go in alone. I’ll wait here with Jenny.” He briefly flicking his eyes to the woman who was standing behind the desk, vaguely more interested in the conversation than her computer screen. “Just…fix it.” He squeezed his hand on her shoulder as Claire nodded.
Then inhaling, she headed for the doors, pushing them lightly as the circulation around her body intensified and all she could hear even over the clatter of conversation was her heart thumping like a drum.
You can do this, she thought. You can do this.
No one really took much interest as she entered, even if her work clothes were a little wrinkled and her messy ponytail had flyaways. Most stuck to their own business, laughing at jokes or ordering small beverages at the bar.
Inside, it was fairly dim, the creation of a casual, elegant atmosphere erected from the small, round spotlights on the floor and the purple lampshades above the bar stools. Claire glanced around meekly, afraid that the attendant had got it all wrong, mixed up Zack Benson with a stranger, and the man she loved was already halfway across the world to Japan.
Each stranger she encountered escalated her fear, churned her stomach inside out, and if she was going to faint, she hoped she would at least land on that comfortable-looking brown sofa than the wooden floor.
And then she stopped.
Zack.
There he was.
Sitting with his back towards her as he held a glass of water in his hand as he casually looked outside.
What was she going to say? How on earth? God, her insides were on fire.
“Fuck,” she whispered to herself.
Claire had never felt so frightened in her life. It was like meeting him for the first time. Some blind date. A headteacher’s visit in primary school. The judge with his final verdict. Kissing your crush for the first time.