The Romantics

by Leah Konen

  They didn’t talk much, but his mom drove like a maniac, swerving around cars, pedal to the metal, pushing her smart car to the ultimate max.

  It was 6:45 by the time they got to the Raleigh–Durham Airport.

  There was a huge line of cars when they got to the RDU departures terminal.

  “I’m going to run,” Gael said. “Screw this.”

  His mom nodded, and he reached for the door.

  “I love you, Gael,” she said.

  He looked back at her.

  She took a deep breath. “And I want you to know that I love your dad and I love your sister. And I’m sorry for all the hurt that I’ve caused. I’m sorry for putting you through all this.” Her voice choked, just a little, but then she quickly pulled it together. “It doesn’t change how much I love you all, though. Please know that. It’s just that sometimes people grow apart.”

  Gael shook his head. He didn’t have time for this, and yet he desperately wanted to hear what she had to say. He was still holding out for a real reason why she’d left his dad.

  “What does that even mean?” he asked.

  She sighed. “You’re going to go off to school next year. And it’s going even faster with Piper. You’re dad is content. This is all he wants. You guys and Chapel Hill and his work and all that.”

  “And what do you want?” Gael asked, his bottom lip beginning to tremble. “To move away and never see us again?”

  She shook her head. “Of course not! Not for years, at least. But I don’t know, down the road, maybe? Or maybe I’ll travel. Maybe I’ll take Piper to France for a summer. Maybe I’ll quit teaching, do something else.”

  “But why couldn’t all that happen with Dad?” he asked.

  His mom looked down at her hands, then back up at him. “Because it’s not what your dad wants. He needs someone who wants to stay put. I need someone who wants to keep going. And I thought for a long time that you guys would be enough, and I love you so much that I feel guilty even thinking it, but I have to live for me, too.”

  Gael stared at his mother. At the woman who’d been there for him every day since forever, the woman who’d done something so unexpected as this, the woman who, until now, had never really appeared to Gael like a separate person, with her own life and her own problems that didn’t all revolve around being his mom.

  (And even though she was talking to Gael, in a way, she was talking to me, too. Angela Brennan was a Dreamer7 when it came to romance—she always had been—and maybe, as awful as it was, Arthur wasn’t her dream anymore. Maybe even though what they had was beautiful, it wasn’t meant to last forever. Maybe there really wasn’t anything I could have done, even if I had been around more. Maybe this was how it was all supposed to work out.)

  “I really should go, Mom,” Gael said.

  (All of a sudden I wanted so badly for him to forgive her. Because all of a sudden, I had forgiven her.)

  She smiled. “I know. I just wanted to say that. I’ll be waiting in the short-term parking. Take your time.”

  He hopped out of the car as quickly as he could, shutting the door behind him. She began to pull away.

  (I gave him one last tiny nudge.)

  He started for the sliding doors, but then he turned back, rushed at his mom’s car, knocked on the window.

  She rolled it down. “Did you forget your phone, honey?”

  Gael shook his head. “I just wanted to say that I love you, too, Mom.”

  * * *

  7. Dreamer: One who views romance as the ultimate act of self-fulfillment, seeking constant challenge and growth. May result in a constant desire to define and improve the relationship, make plans for the future, and lose faith when the future doesn’t turn out exactly as imagined. May also result in incredibly deep romantic connections and emotional bonds.

  r-d-eff you, part one

  Gael hurried through the doors marked Delta at RDU’s Terminal 2, his heart racing a million miles a minute.

  Miraculously, there was no one in line. Perhaps the universe was actually looking out for him for once? he thought.

  (The universe has always been looking out for you, Gael.)

  He stepped up to the counter. The half-cocked plan he and his mom had formed on the way over was to buy a ticket for the same flight so he could get through security and hopefully still stop Sammy. He had about three hundred dollars in his checking account, and she’d even fronted him an extra hundred; he was praying that it was enough.

  The woman behind the counter looked to be in her thirties, with layers and layers of makeup and eyebrows arched so she looked permanently perky. “How can I help you?”

  “I’d like to buy a ticket for the seven-forty-five flight to Baltimore,” he said, trying to sound at least somewhat calm.

  “Cutting it a little close, aren’t we?” Her plastered-on smile got wider.

  Gael shrugged sheepishly.

  “Let’s see if we have any seats left.”

  Her fingers went to work on the keyboard, typing furiously, while her eyebrows moved up and down with almost every new click of the Return key.

  Finally, she said, “You’re in luck. We have one seat left. Is coach all right?”

  Gael nodded. Thank God. He didn’t even want to think about how much a first-class ticket would cost. “Coach is perfect.”

  “Great,” she said. “The total with taxes and fees will be one thousand, two hundred, and six dollars and thirty-three cents.”

  Holy. Shit.

  It took Gael a minute to find his voice. “That’s coach? One way?”

  She nodded, her smile getting just a tad less bright. She could see through him already, he was sure of it. “Would you like me to book that for you, sir?”

  “That’s the cheapest you have?” he asked. He’d assumed it would be a little expensive, last minute and all, but a thousand freaking bucks? Jesus.

  “It’s the last seat, sir.”

  He looked behind him. A line had formed in the few minutes he’d been there. People were beginning to look a tad impatient. So was the formerly perky ticket lady. “Would you like me to book that for you, sir?” she asked again.

  He stalled. What the hell was he going to do now? “It’s just that I’m sure my friend didn’t pay that much. I just thought . . .” His voice trailed off.

  And that’s when her smile disappeared completely. She stared at him, lips pursed, like he was a misbehaving student in a kindergarten class. “This isn’t Expedia, sir. We’re not a discount service. We’re an airline. And this is a last-minute purchase.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Would you like the ticket or not, sir?”

  Then Gael had a thought, a ray of hope. He didn’t need to go to Baltimore. He just needed to get into the terminal.

  The man behind him cleared his throat loudly.

  “No,” Gael said. “But is there any ticket I could buy that leaves tonight that’s less money?”

  The lady sighed. “What destination, sir?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

  “It doesn’t matter?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “No, see, I just need to talk to my friend, so I really just need a ticket to anywhere.”

  She lifted her hands from their resting position on the keyboard and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Anywhere isn’t exactly a destination I can plug into my system, sir.”

  “Can you believe this guy?” someone muttered behind Gael.

  The counter lady just stared, waiting.

  “Okay, Charlotte?” he asked.

  Her hands went to work again. After another few minutes: “There’s a nine o’clock flight to Charlotte.” She smirked. “Let’s get straight to the total cost, shall we? Eight hundred, ninety-two dollars and fifty-two cents.”

  Holy. Shitballs.

  “D.C.?” Gael asked.

  He looked behind him. The guy in the front of the line looked straight at him and said, “You’re going to make us all miss our fligh
ts, you ass!”

  She continued typing. Finally: “Nine hundred, thirty-four—”

  “You know what, just forget it,” Gael interrupted her.

  And he walked away to the raucous applause of everyone else in line.

  sammy sutton unplugged

  Sammy sat in a chair near gate C7, almost positive she’d forgotten something.

  She’d packed in a rush, even though she’d made it to the airport in plenty of time. But between her hallmate bailing (that was my work, y’all) and having to hit up Mrs. Brennan for a ride, she was a little . . . flustered.

  She unzipped her bag and checked it again. Toothbrush, check. Razor, check. Makeup, check. Cute underwear, check. Birth control, check.

  She wondered if John had really only made out with that girl at the party before they broke up, or if he’d done more.

  The thought hit her so hard it was impossible to ignore: Gael would never, ever, ever have cheated on her. He simply didn’t have it in him. He wasn’t that kind of guy.

  She shook her head. This trip was not about entertaining a silly crush she had on a high school student. This trip was about trusting John. Restoring what they’d had. Getting it all back on track.

  And yet, she was sure she’d forgotten something.

  It didn’t help that her phone wasn’t charged and her stupid charger had finally conked out after being finicky for weeks.

  She guessed it didn’t much matter, though. John would be there to pick her up for sure, and he would surely have an extra charger in Baltimore.

  It’s not like fooling around on the Internet would calm her nerves anyway.

  So she opened up Candide and tried not to focus on the anxiety building in her chest.

  r-d-eff you, part two

  Gael had developed a new plan.

  Sure, he couldn’t afford a ticket, but perhaps he could still get through security. He had his ID. He didn’t even have a bag. He’d pass through the metal detector without a hitch. He just had to convince someone to let him through.

  It was 7:15. He didn’t have much time, but he had to at least try.

  He walked up to the security checkpoint like nothing in the world was wrong, as if he actually had his shit together and belonged inside the airport. He held up his ID. The lady took it. “Boarding pass?”

  Gael tried his best to look young and naïve. “My dad had it, and he already went through. We got separated. I can get it on the other side.”

  She tilted her head down, nonplussed. “I can’t let you through without a boarding pass, sir. You can get another copy at the airline’s ticket counter.”

  He bit his lip. “It’s just that I’m going to be late and I really need to just get through.”

  She shrugged. “Not my problem, sir. Please step aside.”

  Shit.

  He tried a new tactic. “Okay,” he said. “Look. I just need to get through security to talk to someone. It’s really important that I talk to her right now, before she gets on the plane. It’s kind of like an emergency. And her phone is dead. So if you could just let me through—I’ll go through the detectors and everything like I had a boarding pass, and obviously I’m not going to be able to get on a plane without one—then I can get hold of her and tell her what I need to tell her.”

  The woman laughed, stared at him, broke into a grin.

  Whoa. Had his plan actually worked?

  “Not a problem, sir. Just answer me one question, and I’ll let you right through.”

  Hot damn, Gael thought. Maybe things really had loosened up around here. Word on the street was you didn’t even have to put your liquids in plastic baggies anymore. Who knew?

  “Sure,” he said.

  “Can you tell me my birthday, sir?”

  “Your birthday?” he asked.

  “Uh huh.” She nodded.

  “I don’t get it. How would I know your birthday?” he asked.

  She smiled even wider. “Well, sir, it seems that you’re under the impression that I was born yesterday, so someone as smart as you should certainly be able to deduce my birthday.”

  Double shit.

  “Next,” she said.

  He had no other option but to remove himself from the line. He shook his head as he walked away. He’d been so stupid to think that any of this would work.

  But then, in a flash, he saw his opening.

  Literally. An opening.

  There was a hole in the roped off section where people lined up to go through the metal detectors. It was like someone had rejiggered the line and then forgotten to close the gap.

  He looked back at the lady. She was dealing with a whole family now, strollers and screaming toddlers and all.

  This was his chance.

  He walked coolly, casually, through the opening, got in line behind a couple making lovey-dovey eyes at each other. Tried not to freak out at what he’d just done.

  And for a minute, he really thought he’d made it.

  But then he heard, “Step back, sir!” and “We have a situation!” and before he could even think to get out of the line, two of the tallest and scariest TSA guys he’d ever seen had him surrounded.

  “You’re going to have to come with us.”

  Triple shit.

  an iphone miracle

  Sammy’s seat belt was buckled, the awkward safety video had played, and the plane was in line for takeoff. There was no turning back now.

  And it was good, she told herself. Sometimes you needed to just make a freaking decision and let the cards fall. She was glad that she couldn’t change things now. She was glad that she was on her way to see John.

  She reached down for her purse to get a stick of gum for the flight—her ears always acted up during takeoff and landing—but when she grabbed it, her phone fell out, landing on the floor at her feet.

  Somehow, the screen was lit up.

  She picked up her phone. Not only was her phone on, but it had 87 percent battery. What the hell? she wondered. How had that even happened? Was she losing her mind?

  Sammy sometimes believed that her great-grandmother was looking out for her from above, and she entertained the idea that there was life on other planets. She even sometimes thought she had a little ESP. But there was one supernatural thing that she certainly did not believe in. And that was the ability of her beat-up iPhone to magically recharge itself. Its battery life was literally the bane of her existence.

  And yet, here it was, turned on and waiting for her.

  She had three new texts. She tapped on the Messages icon.

  One was from her roommate, Lucy, just after 5:00:

  so guess who just showed up at our dorm pretty much ready to declare his love for you?

  Another arrived from her ten minutes later:

  i told you john was the wrong choice

  And one was from, of all people, Piper, who had a phone for emergencies only. Sammy, her parents, and Gael were literally her only contacts. Sammy had never even seen Piper send a text.

  hey sammy, it’s piper, maybe you shouldn’t get on the plane tonight, just sayin

  What’s more, there were three missed calls and one voice mail.

  OMG.

  Before she could even look at who the calls were from, the flight attendant was hovering over her. “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to put your phone on airplane mode.”

  “I just need to check one thing.”

  The flight attendant held up her hand. “Ma’am, we are already taxiing. You need to turn it on airplane mode. Now.”

  People on either side of her were suddenly staring.

  “Just let me look at this. It will take like one second, I promise.”

  “Ma’am, do not make me say it a third time.”

  “But—” Sammy didn’t finish her sentence. Instead, she tapped the call log. The missed calls were from Gael.

  And so was the voice mail.

  “Put your phone on airplane mode, ma’am,” the flight attendant said again.

>   “No,” Sammy said defiantly. “God, just hold on a second.”

  The woman turned to the other attendants. “We have an unruly passenger here,” she said.

  Immediately, there was an announcement on the intercom. “All flight attendants please head to the back of the plane.”

  A rush of heels and loafers against dingy carpet.

  Sammy lifted the phone to her ear.

  The woman was turning as red as her polyester blazer. “Ma’am, if you do not put your phone away now, we will have no choice but to escort you off the plane.”

  But Sammy didn’t put the phone down.

  The woman’s neck muscles strained against her fake silk scarf. “Ma’am.”

  But as Sammy heard Gael’s nervous voice, she didn’t even care.

  Let them kick her off the plane. The lady could scream at her for all she cared.

  She didn’t want to be on this stupid flight anyway.

  tsa pda

  Gael had been alone in the TSA holding room for forty-five minutes. It was after 8:00. Sammy’s flight had definitely taken off by now, he was sitting here in handcuffs, and he was probably going to be charged as some sort of terrorist. His mom was very likely freaking out.

  They’d confiscated his phone, so Gael couldn’t even let his mom know he was okay or distract himself from the terrifying thought of what life in Guantanamo would be like.

  Then, finally, the door opened. A half-bald man with tired eyes and a protruding belly walked in, a notepad in hand, looked Gael up and down, and opened his mouth to say something. But just then, voices sounded from the hall, and the man stepped back out, one hand on the door, his body hidden.

  Dear god, were they recruiting someone to torture the truth out of him? Gael wondered.

  “Another one?” the man asked. “Ridiculous. These entitled millennials. They’re worse than terrorists.”