by Vivien Vale
“Great job, Diane,” I say merrily, “and I’m being serious.”
At long last, Diane takes her eyes off the windshield to send a cheekily smug look in her wife’s direction.
“You see, Steph? Real, genuine appreciation for the driver—who happens to be doing an amazing job, as always.”
Stephanie ignores Diane and turns around to scowl at me with a hammily sour face.
That alone is enough to coax a couple of unruly giggles from me—no simple task after the day I’ve had.
“I thought you were on my side, kid. Grr!”
That grr really gets me, and all I can do is chortle like a woman who’s lost her druthers.
As the latest crop of traffic clears away, I want to stop laughing, but that darn Stephanie won’t wipe that zany sourpuss off her mug.
Without breaking character, Stephanie turns back around as the last few laughs escape me.
Holy cow, I can’t remember the last time I laughed quite like that.
Not since I was a little kid, possibly. Not since…
Diane steers the van a bit wildly, but with deft reflexes then eases down the off ramp and onto a freeway of some kind.
Sweetheart.
Kid.
The little pet names these women use to call me are interesting. I don’t usually cotton to that type of stuff from strangers, or even good-humored acquaintances such as these two ladies.
They’re older than me, as well, but obviously not that old.
For some unknown reason, it doesn’t feel condescending from either side of this couple. The real corker of it all is that it evokes a feeling of—for an honest-to-goodness lack of better terms—warmth and comfort.
I’m not feeling heavy-eyed or sluggish or anything of the sort right now, but I still let my eyes close for a moment as the minivan picks up a bit of speed.
For that one moment, I’m back in Wheatfield. Not with the truck or with Kody or any of that type of bullpucky, but earlier.
Much earlier.
For just a moment, I’m not on some east coast city highway speeding towards an airport, but I’m living in one of my earliest, sweetest memories.
It’s a memory, which I think of often, usually when I’m lying in bed in Wheatfield or New York or anywhere.
“No matter how big you get, sweetheart, no matter how far you go, and no matter what happens, you’ll always be my little Junebug.”
The blast of a nearby car horn is almost enough to jolt me back to the present, to a minivan in New York. But out of all the times I’ve tried to live in this memory—even just for the tiniest instant—this time was the closest, the most vivid.
“Always. Don’t you ever forget that.”
My mother’s voice, momentarily so clear it was like she was right there next to me, fades slowly like a ghost merging gently back into the normal scenery of the world.
My eyes open to a sky just beginning to darken through the minivan windows. The van makes a sharp left and swiftly reduces speed as we pass under a set of high-powered arc lights.
“Welcome to LaGuardia, sleepy lady.” Even from my vantage point, I can tell that Diane is smiling happily again.
So is Stephanie, who’s staring unabashedly at Diane with an adoration so clear and so genuine that I feel like I need to look out the window as not to intrude on a private moment.
I do just that, taking in the view as we pull into a parking garage.
No wonder Diane was smiling like that…no wonder they both were. To find someone who looks at you like that…and vice versa.
Semi-consciously, I give my belly a little rub as we pull into a parking spot.
Whether I’ll ever find somebody like that, have it for real, and have it last…well, I have no idea.
Pretty soon, I have to stop thinking about myself all the time. The last thing I want to become is self-absorbed.
Diane opens the sliding door and helps me out of the van.
“May I ask where you’re going with all that luggage?”
It takes me a second of looking around for suitcases I didn’t know I had before I get Diane’s joke.
She’s got her own distinct style. It complements Stephanie’s sense of humor nicely.
“Well…would you believe that I’m not sure?”
Stephanie heard that, and before I know what’s what, she was standing right next to her wife, both of them observing me with faces full of concern.
“Nebraska. That’s where I’m from, and that’s where I’d go. I’m just not sure if...”
“Who is it?” Stephanie asks with a sudden maternal seriousness.
“Who is who?” I know darn well what she’s asking, but my first instinct is to play dumb, and it’s almost like I can’t stop myself.
“Who is he, June? Or, she…”
“He,” I begin with a dramatic sigh. “It’s a he.”
“Hold that thought.” Stephanie instructs me while walking around to the back of the van. “We’ve got luggage, and a flight to catch, but you can regale us with your country girl adventure story on the way to the terminal.”
“She can start now.” Diane gestures to me as she joins her spouse in unpacking luggage. “The acoustics are great in this garage.”
“So, okay…” Diane’s right, my voice is so loud…but I begin. “There was this contract…well, before that, there was this boy, in Wheatfield, Nebraska…”
It’s a long walk from the garage to Terminal B, with me lugging an especially heavy piece of Diane and Stephanie’s luggage while they roll their suitcases with ease.
I’d ask why they don’t have all-wheeled luggage since they seem like moderately sophisticated city folk, but I’m too busy telling my story, and they’re too busy listening politely, reacting silently at all the right moments, even laughing a couple of times.
As I walk my two wonderful listeners up to the check-in counter for their flight, my story has almost caught up with the present.
“The first ever images of our child…” I’m trying to tell the story matter-of-factly, but some wounds are too fresh, and my voice cracks with those last few words.
Once my story is over, it’s like we’re back in the parking garage, with both Diane and Stephanie considering me with a concern that’s touching and maybe a wee bit mortifying.
“There’s nothing like spilling your guts in public.”
My attempt to break the silence is ignored as Diane launches right in.
“What are you doing?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure…wait, where are you going again?”
The two lovely, pregnant ladies share an immediate, knowing look.
But I don’t know.
“Sorry, did I ask something…”
“Mesa,” says Diane.
“Arizona!” I shout. “That’s closer to Nebraska than here.”
“I’m from Mesa,” Stephanie adds. “Diane’s from here.”
“Steph still gets a little weird about visiting the fam.”
Steph’s incredible self-possession drops instantly while she looks at the floor.
While I can speculate about this, I don’t.
“I couldn’t give a shit about what they think. It’s just the way they treated you…”
Diane wraps her arm around Steph’s shoulder and squeezes her close. Stephanie’s famous smile from the minivan returns.
“Stephanie still thinks about crap from years ago, when we first got together. I was in Phoenix, doing contract work…”
“Like me.”
“Well, I was in Phoenix, so not exactly. Also I was doing surveying—a gig working for this little lady’s ole dad.”
Stephanie smiles wistfully.
“It was immediate,” Stephanie says, “and amazing, and we realized we were in love, like, right away. But my father…I was confused, and he started acting like a dick. Kinda like your fertility guy there, June.”
“You weren’t that bad, Steph…”
“Oh, yes, I was. Bu
t we got through it. This shit can be frantic and confusing…but that doesn’t mean you should run away.”
Diane nods in agreement.
“What are you doing here in Queens? Get your shit-kicking, bad country-and-western-self back into the city straightaway, young lady. Your handsome, wealthy fertility man awaits.”
“I don’t know if he is waiting.”
The two share another knowing look.
“We suggest you hesitate before fleeing back to the Cornhusker State.”
After Stephanie’s last word of advice, I hug my two new friends adieu so they can check in and catch their flight.
Wandering the terminal, I try to consider the advice I was given and to see things from a different perspective.
But I’m in a freaking airport, and it seems like I might be here for a reason.
The giant frigging screen in front of me might also be there for a reason. The displayed list of scheduled departures looks like it’s nothing but nonstop flights to Omaha or to Lincoln.
Just a short, connecting flight from either of those followed by a short bus ride and I’ll be…back.
Home, I suppose.
It’ll be nice to be back—to see the farm, if nothing else.
I’m no airport navigation expert, but I’m like a darn robot the way I chose the next flight to Lincoln, and find a ticket kiosk…
There’s no way he’s waiting for me like they said he is. It’s just not the way things work—not with him, anyway.
Okay, back to automatic mode to buy the tickets, and check in, and…
And if he’s not waiting, what sense is there to even consider going back to Manhattan?
Unless, instead of waiting, he’ll come find me here or something. That thought almost makes me laugh out loud in the security line—that’s some Nora Ephron stuff right there.
That’s not real life.
When I slip out of my business pumps and dump them in a plastic tray, I know that there’s no going back.
And it’s not like he’s going to go through security—you have to be a passenger for that.
Things get tight once I get through security. Looking at a big, overhead clock.
Holy freaking crap, I’ve only got ten minutes.
Okay, don’t panic. Gate D6. Just stay calm while you freaking run.
“This is the final boarding call for passenger June Johnson on flight…”
Oh, for crying out loud, are they really paging me using my name and…
Gate D6 is all the way down there?
“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck!”
I’ll admit it feels good to yell while I run.
The ticket checker guy or whatever waves me right in when I get to the gate. I keep frigging running down the jetway, not daring to stop until I’m safely on board.
It’s not until I’m stumbling down the plane’s aisle that I fully register I’m still carrying my shoes in my hand with my boarding pass crumpled up next to them.
I got seat D6. That’s strange…I guess.
Wait, is this first class? I don’t think I paid—
“Great fares on this flight. Don’t you agree, Ms. Johnson?”
Even with those scrapes and bruises on his face, Carter’s smile is so…
“Hold on. What on Earth…”
The plane starting its move away from the gate interrupts me.
“We’re starting to taxi, June.” Carter pats the seat next to his. “You are in D6, right?”
Carter
The yelling and screaming I’d been expecting doesn’t come.
Instead, there’s deadly silence. The kind of silence that forebodes no fucking good.
I take a deep breath.
Before I speak, I glance out of the plane’s small window. Below us are tiny dots of lights scattered over the landscape.
I imagine the people in these houses sitting down to dinner—families, single people, older couples, all different kinds of folks live in the dwelling below us.
“June,” I start and take her hand.
She doesn’t pull away, and I breathe a little easier.
If she was really mad, she would have pulled her hand away.
That’s how I rationalized it. Although by now, there’s a kind of weird, anxious drone in my own head, making it difficult to think and speak clearly.
What I really wanted to do is just hold her and kiss her.
Somehow, though, I don’t think she’d appreciate me doing that. Words. She’s looking for words.
I sigh.
Of course she deserves an explanation. And she deserves to be told how I feel.
“June,” I start again and feel a growing lump in the back of my throat.
Why is this so fucking hard? I’m a cold, hard businessman—a man who takes no nonsense from fucking anyone—and here, I’m struggling to string one fucking sentence together.
What’s wrong with simply telling her I’m sorry and that she was right and I was wrong?
I fucked up. I got stuck in the past. Seeing Chantal and Lawrence left me feeling like a complete loser, and I forgot what was important to me: her.
Or words to that effect.
I know I’ve got to get across that I was a complete ass and totally fucking wrong.
It’s not easy admitting to making a mistake, particularly if you’re fucking perfect like me. Mistakes and Carter Abraham just don’t go together.
Okay, maybe I made a mistake once or twice in my life, but heck, generally, I’m pretty fucking prefect.
“Yes?” Her voice is soft, and her eyes are studying me closely. It feels as if she’s examining me through a microscope, noticing every minute detail.
Those eyes, I swear they can melt the coldest of hearts.
“I was an idiot.” Best to start right at the heart of the matter.
“An idiot?” she repeats with raised eyebrows.
“A complete fool, a dickhead, a jerk—call it what you will, June. I know all of this has been my fault.” I wave my arm around in an all-encompassing gesture.
“You don’t say.”
Fuck, she’s not making it easy for me. If I thought she was just going to forgive me, I thought wrong.
Almost involuntarily, I lean back in my seat and roll my eyes skyward, as if looking for the right words to use.
Some people are masters at using words to their advantage. Up until a few minutes ago, I thought I was one such person. Turns out I’m a complete failure at finding the right words.
Somehow, nothing I say comes out the right way. June remains unconvinced and whatever I say sounds fucking awful, even to my own ears.
“Look, June, Chantal was the first woman I ever fucked. She took my virginity. And of course, she fell pregnant from that one time. Instead of talking to me about what happened, working out what we could do, she got an abortion. Just like that. I mean she got rid of this life that started to grow inside of her. And she went on some drug bender. To make matters worse, Lawrence hooked up with her and went on the same bender.”
Here I had to pause.
Fuck, how I hate this.
This was worse than the time the old man called me into his study because of some minor misdemeanor I was alleged to have committed.
He would usher me in without saying anything. Instead of telling me where to sit, he would point at the tall high-backed black leather chair normally reserved for him.
As I sit there cowering in fear, he’d pace up and down in front of the desk. In his right hand would be a short riding crop. Every ten steps he would whip his own hand.
It was so nerve-wracking, worrying about what was about to happen and how much he knew, I’d blurt out my crime every time.
The results always varied. Depending on his mood, he would either praise me for being honest, or I would receive ten smacks with the whip. Five on each hand, because I dared to defy him by not instantly confessing my wrongdoings.
No child of mine will ever be subjected to such a cruel an
d absurd upbringing.
“I know all that already, remember?” She raises an eyebrow.
“It makes no sense to you I know, June. And no, if you’re going to ask, I’m not in love with Chantal, I never was. I think…because I was quite young I couldn’t understand what she did or why she did it.
“I felt totally powerless. It was awful how my opinion just didn’t matter. I don’t know if she didn’t think to discuss it with me, or if she felt I wasn’t entitled to have an opinion about the pregnancy. But it really hurt that I only found out after the fact. And what was worse was Lawrence taking up with her.”
For the first time since I started to talk, I look at June.
Her eyes are brimming with tears.
Oh, god, dear June.
“And now?”
Even though the question is disjointed, I understand what she wants to know.
“When I saw Lawrence with Chantal, I think those old wounds just opened up. And when they said she was pregnant, I felt even more betrayed. I mean, why would she keep his baby but not mine?”
June squeezes my hand.
“I know my reaction was—and is—totally silly. I guess at first it felt like a kick in the vitals. It kind of reinforced her first message —you’re not good enough.”
“Oh, Carter.” June is now openly crying.
This girl is too fucking soft-hearted for her own good.
“I know,” I hold up my hand. “I know it’s silly. And I know I’m fucking fantastic,” I grin.
She slaps me on the shoulder and wipes her face with the back of her hand.
“Hey, you got to say it the way you see it.”
Now she’s laughing, and her laughter is fucking music to my ears.
“Anyway, these last few hours have been a hard lesson for me…and I can tell you I’ve really grown up. I pushed all those insecurities to one side. The time has come for me to bury those old feelings. And it’s time for me to grab onto something that is incredibly fucking precious to me.”
I lean forward and kiss her gently on the mouth.
“You’ve taught me so much over these last few weeks. I love you, June, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me.”
She says nothing to that, staying silent for what seems like forever.