by Carys Jones
Aiden momentarily ceased packing, sat on the edge of the bed and looked at his wife with concern.
‘We’ve been over this,’ he told her, cupping her hands in his. ‘Buck Fern can come across like that but he’s harmless. He’s all bark and no bite. You probably just misunderstood him.’
‘I didn’t misunderstand anything!’ Isla raged. ‘He threatened me! He stood in our kitchen with our daughter sleeping upstairs and he threatened me! He still hates you for soiling Brandon White’s name.’
‘Honey, I had to do what I did to save an innocent woman, you know that.’
‘But if she wasn’t innocent, you’d have let her die for her crime, wouldn’t you?’ Isla looked deep into Aiden’s eyes, testing his allegiance to Brandy. He looked away, casting his gaze down to the ground.
‘I’ve got to go,’ he said again.
Feeling helpless, Isla watched him pack, knowing there was nothing she could say to change his mind. Perhaps Buck Fern was right, someone had replaced her at the top of his list.
That night Aiden struggled to drift off. He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, lingering on the precipice of sleep.
‘There’s no such thing as a bad lay,’ Justin’s voice bounced around his head, an old memory resurfacing. ‘Only a wrong lay.’
This time they were sat in John’s car. He handed Aiden the bottle of vodka and he drank deeply from it, wanting to shut out a previously bad sexual encounter.
‘If you’re not into it, it means you’re not into her,’ Justin had offered his teenage wisdom in between taking long drags on his cigarette.
‘Only girls get headaches,’ he’d quipped. ‘The guy should always be into it.’
Aiden rolled over on his bed and fell asleep with Justin’s words lingering in his mind, refusing to subside.
*
Isla turned to face Aiden in the car. Behind them Meegan slept soundly in her car seat. There was little time to say their farewells as Isla had pulled in to the drop-off zone outside the airport.
Around them there was a flurry of activity as various cars and cabs pulled in to drop off passengers, destined for other parts of America and beyond. The sound of engines was punctuated by inpatient drivers hammering on their horns. It surprised Aiden that his daughter was able to sleep through such a symphony of chaos.
‘Well, enjoy your trip,’ Isla said, smiling through gritted teeth.
‘It’s work, it’s not like I’m going to go there and have fun.’
‘Say hi to the city for me,’ Isla sighed sadly. ‘Tell it I miss it. Dearly. And call me often, please.’ Isla gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The thought of being alone in her home with Buck Fern idly passing by in his patrol car terrified her. She had no idea what the old sheriff would do to force her family out of town once and for all.
‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ Aiden leant across and kissed his wife, her sweet floral scent enveloping him as he did so. She smelt like summer.
Opening the car door, the wall of sound outside suddenly exploded into the vehicle. Meegan stirred momentarily at the sudden assault on her peace and looked up at her father, now standing outside the car holding his suitcase, with shocked, bewildered eyes.
‘Dada,’ she stammered, not understanding where she was or how she’d got there.
‘I’ll see you soon, pumpkin,’ Aiden hurriedly opened the back door and squeezed in to kiss Meegan on the forehead, aware that the precious little time allowed to drop someone off in their current zone was depleting with each passing moment.
‘Daddy nooooo!’ Meegan began to sob, not wanting her father to go even though she had no comprehension of where he was going or for how long. She only understood that he was going and that was enough to leave her inconsolable.
Aiden shut the car door as Meegan’s wails raised a decibel. Her little face was now bright red and soaked in her own tears. He shot Isla an apologetic look which she ignored, too focused on pulling out into the constant stream of traffic.
Watching them leave, Aiden suddenly felt a sharp stab of guilt hack at his spine. He was leaving them, which was bad enough, but he was leaving them on false pretences. He knew that Meegan would now cry the entire ride home. Then she would sleep for a few hours when they got back. When she woke she would ask after Aiden and when Isla explained that he was away for a few days the cycle would repeat itself. The only thing which would break the cycle would be his return home. So Isla would have to endure a few days of toddler tantrums which Aiden didn’t envy.
Walking through the sliding glass doors into the airport, the hectic sounds of outside melted away and were replaced by the constant loudspeaker updates about which gate was boarding and which flight had been delayed, which struggled to be heard over the endless drone of countless people talking to each other, into cell phones or even to themselves.
Airports were always horrendously busy. It was the one thing Aiden liked least about them. It made the whole airplane journey more of an ordeal. Once you were boarded and in your seat, the world slowed and you could enjoy a drink and in the in-flight entertainment. That was the good bit. The hard part was getting through the hustle and bustle of check-in and then the various security gates.
Aiden pulled his suitcase behind him and went to check in, bracing himself for a hectic couple of hours.
The departure lounge was always the most serene part of the airport, bar the plane itself. Aiden sat amongst other passengers bound for Chicago and began to read the newspaper he had just bought himself.
Great windows exposed the planes sat outside, waiting for their cargo of people before they roared up the runway and ascended into the heavens. Air travel was now a way of life. Aiden had lost count of the number of times he’d been on a plane. Initially he’d tried to keep count but as his life got busier, it became more difficult.
His parents had always feared planes, preferring to trust in rail travel. They didn’t trust anything that flew, they thought it unnatural.
As Aiden sat in the lounge, he thought about what the world might look like when Meegan was his age. Would flying be her train journey; reliable and commonplace? He then thought of how she would probably still be crying as Isla arrived home, though the screams should have subsided to gentle sobs.
Was his trip to Chicago a complete waste of time? Was he just fooling himself that Brandy would even care about Brandon’s child? Perhaps she had moved on from her painful past and would be angry at Aiden for bringing such news to her doorstep? Or worse, what if she didn’t want to see him? What if Aiden had just become another part of a past she wanted to forget?
He tried to push all the negative thoughts to the back of his mind and focus on his newspaper, but it was difficult to silence his doubts when they kept gnawing away at him, forcing him to question his being there.
‘Flight 632 to Chicago is now boarding,’ a smartly dressed air hostess delivered the message to the departure lounge through the intercom by the airline’s desk. Aiden gathered up his belongings and joined the queue, the majority of which were commuters as everyone was smartly dressed and travelling alone.
The air hostess who had made the announcement smiled flirtatiously at Aiden as she checked his ticket. She had dark-blonde hair, tied up in a perfect bun, and red lips which matched the red of her uniform.
Aiden nodded politely and moved on, heading towards the plane. There was a time when he would have pursued the air hostess, needing nothing more than a smile to encourage his interest, but that felt like another lifetime ago. Aiden sometimes wondered where that part of himself had gone? It was as if his younger, carefree self-had just one day died. Perhaps when Justin had died he had taken all of their youth with him.
Sex on a plane wasn’t unknown territory to Aiden. He’d done it with Isla a couple of times during their more heated days, also with a few random women he’d met when he was young and free. Back then it was risky and taboo which made it thrilling. Now the thought of squeezin
g himself in to a tiny airplane cubicle to try and have sex was completely unappealing. It actually made him want to wretch. Sex was supposed to be something special between two people, cubicle sex was purely animalistic.
It surprised Aiden to think like that. He’d never been one to be sentimental over sex before. Isla was forever accusing him of being relentlessly unromantic. Something was changing in him; he could feel it though he couldn’t yet articulate quite what it was or why.
Aiden sighed with relief as he settled himself into his seat. For a few hours at least he could now just switch off and relax.
The screen in the headrest ahead of him was already up and running adverts for the airline he was travelling with. He briefly browsed through the in-flight entertainment, noting that there were a couple of television shows he might watch. At home he rarely had the time to indulge in things like that as he was always busy either being a husband or a father. Isla liked to spend their evenings together which generally meant he would fall asleep whilst she watched something she had picked for them which was always to her taste, not his.
On the plane Aiden had nothing but time to indulge in the things which he enjoyed. It saddened him to think that it had taken a plane journey for him to actually make time for himself. He was so consumed with trying to be so many things to so many people, trying to save everyone, that he risked forgetting to save himself.
Aiden decided on a few shows and leant back in his soft, leather chair, a satisfied smile pulling on his lips.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ a brunette air hostess asked politely, looking down at Aiden from her position behind the drinks cart.
‘A scotch please,’ Aiden ordered. ‘On the rocks.’
Subdued by the liquor, it was easy for Aiden’s mind to at last unwind and release some of the tension it had been clinging on to.
Outside, the other planes began to roll away as his own plane prepared for take-off, slowly leaving its gate and beginning to taxi towards the runway.
Twenty minutes later and Aiden was sat at ninety degrees, watching from his window the world below become dwarfed so that cars looked like tiny ants scurrying around some vast hive. The plane soared up into the clouds making Aiden’s stomach swirl as though he were on a roller coaster. It was both a pleasant and uncomfortable sensation. Above the clouds, the world below seemed a million miles away as everything paled away to soft blue serenity.
After the TV shows and two more glasses of scotch, the flight was due to being its descent. A soft chime indicated that it was time for passengers to take their seats and ensure their seatbelts were fastened.
Aiden felt groggy from the drink but in a good way. He was drowsy but not drunk. He stretched in his seat and tried to awaken his senses but they remained dulled, refusing to break the spell of relaxation which the flight had put him under.
Each time the plane dropped in altitude, Aiden felt that strange turning in his stomach, like when you fall within a dream and abruptly awaken.
Beyond the window the clouds were penetrated, revealing the dark mass of the city below. Aiden looked down upon Chicago, bemused by just how different everything looked from up above.
As the plane continued to descend, Aiden began to regret his final scotch as his stomach gurgled uneasily beneath his shirt.
This was always the worst part, landing. You return to reality, no longer soaring majestically above the earth. You resumed your role as an ant within the hive. The serenity of the plane became a distant memory the moment you entered the hustle and confusion of the airport. Aiden wanted the peace he’d felt on the plane to last. He wished he could bottle up the feeling and take it with him then, each time the world became too much, he could just inhale a small bit and be instantly transported back above the clouds.
With a shudder and burn of rubber, the plane connected with the ground. They had landed.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Chicago,’ the captain said in a friendly tone, his voice emitting throughout the plane.
‘The time is three p.m. and the weather is cloudy with a chance of rain. Thank you for flying with Liberty Airlines and we look forward to welcoming you on board again soon.’
As Aiden collected his bag from the stowaway cupboard and prepared to leave the plane, the relaxed, comfortable feeling which had been fuelled by the scotch suddenly dissipated as a frightening realisation settled over him. With trembling hands Aiden managed to leave the plane and navigate his way through the various security gates, the whole time in a daze as he struggled to accept the reality of his situation.
Finally he exited through the glass doors of the airport and found himself on the sidewalk, once more listening to a cacophony of car horns and idling engines. He looked up at the sky which was grey with intent and registered that he was now well and truly back in Chicago. And somewhere in the city was Brandy White, now existing under her maiden name of Cotton. They were now longer separated by hundreds of miles and various state lines. For the first time since she’d found her freedom they were in the same city and Aiden felt as nervous and excited as a kid on Christmas morning.
Chapter Seven
There was Never Me until there was You
Brandy Cotton worked at a trendy boutique salon within the centre of Chicago called Chez Vous. The elite clientele found her Southern charm endearing and she was a favourite amongst customers.
Brandy had picked up the basics of the beauty trade very quickly, showing a natural aptitude which was no doubt helped by her background in pageantry.
Chez Vous was nestled between a Starbucks and a Gap store so, in retail terms, a prime location as there was constant foot traffic passing by.
Aiden stood on the sidewalk, gazing in through the windows of the salon. He swerved his head to see between the constant flow of pedestrians, desperate to catch a glimpse of Brandy.
This was his first full day in Chicago and he’d spent the past forty minutes stood outside Chez Vous trying to work up the courage to go in. He knew he’d lingered far too long and was in danger of attracting negative attention. If only he could see her, just briefly, her warm smile would be enough to put him ease and then he would go in.
But from his vantage point he could only see two stylists and a receptionist. The stylists were both male, one with white blonde, cropped hair and a tattoo of a cross behind his ear, the other had a black Mohawk and various piercings. The receptionist was female, in her late forties perhaps, with bright-red shoulder-length hair and lipstick of the same colour. She seemed familiar and friendly with all the customers and Aiden wondered if she was Brandy’s aunt, who owned Chez Vous and had helped secure her a job. It had been easy enough to find where Brandy worked; there was little that couldn’t be discovered following a quick Google search.
At some point he’d have to go in. Above him the heavens darkened, suggesting imminent rain. He’d definitely look suspicious if he remained outside getting soaked in the rain. Time was running out. He only had a few days in Chicago and he wanted to make the most of them. Deciding to just bite the bullet, Aiden walked decisively towards the salon.
A soft jingle of bells accompanied his entrance but no one looked up, the stylists too consumed by their clients, their clients too consumed by whichever fashion magazine they were reading.
There was modern music playing, Aiden only knew it was modern because he didn’t recognize it. He made his way to the receptionist, feeling amazingly self-conscious. It was the sort of stylish place where Isla would have felt in her element but Aiden was a fish out of water and struggled to blend in. His entire outfit, from his long trench coat to his polished black shoes, gave him away as a businessman out of his depth.
‘Excuse me,’ he greeted the redhead who smiled vivaciously at him.
‘Do you have an appointment?’ she asked, her voice friendly but firm, with the polite insinuation that if he didn’t have an appointment, or wasn’t booking an appointment, then he needed to get the hell out.
‘No, actually, I’m l
ooking for Brandy.’
‘Brandy?’ the red haired lady asked, bemused.
‘Brandy White.’
‘You mean Brandy Cotton? What do you want with Brandy?’ the lady asked defensively, clearly this must be her aunt.
‘I’m an old friend from Avalon just wanting to say hello,’ Aiden explained awkwardly, unsure how to articulate exactly what he was to Brandy.
The receptionist seemed satisfied with his explanation as she held up a hand which revealed impressively long false nails which were also as red as rubies, instructing him to wait. She disappeared up a black, spiral wrought-iron staircase which was located towards the centre of the salon, her stiletto boots clipping sharply against each step. Moments later she returned, a softer set of footsteps accompanying her. Brandy descended the stairs and Aiden felt his breath catch in his throat.
She looked even more radiant than when he had last seen her. Her blonde hair, still long but cut more stylishly, remained as a halo around her angelic features. She wore a trendy shirt dress which fell to her knees and on her feet she had cowboy boots, a reference to her lineage in the South.
‘Aiden!’ Brandy gushed the moment she saw him, her brown eyes widening with joy as she ran towards him, immediately throwing herself into his arms.
Aiden’s stomach lurched as it had on the plane earlier, only now it was due to the gathering butterflies within it rather than the change in altitude.
‘I can’t believe you’re here,’ she breathed the words into his neck, her breath soft and warm and carrying to scent of peaches.
‘I wanted to surprise you,’ he managed to explain as she released him from her embrace, the sugary scent of vanilla still clinging to his coat.
‘Well, I’m surprised!’ Brandy exclaimed, placing her delicate hands on her hips. A few of the stylists and clients were now casting interested eyes over them, keen to watch their reunion play out, but Aiden was in no mood for an audience. He wanted Brandy all to himself.
‘Is there anywhere we could go and catch up?’ Aiden suggested nervously, his palms sweating as they had when he was in seventh grade and asking a girl out for the first time.