“Are you still texting with my mother?”
“Yeah, she wants to know what’s going on,” he said.
“She can ask me.”
“I guess she likes talking to me,” he answered.
I shook my head. “Stop texting my mom. It’s weird.”
He kept typing. “Uh-uh. One Silver woman still likes me; I’m not jeopardizing that.”
This was beyond bizarre. I didn’t know how I felt about Zev, if I was forgiving him or not, I didn’t need my mom getting in the middle.
I texted her:
This was not happening.
I saw three little dots pop up on my phone. It meant she was typing. Only no message appeared. Then I looked over at Zev. He was laughing. Was my mom still messaging him?!
Really?!
I texted Zev:
I didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.
I thrust my head back against the wall, but Zev just smiled at me, that little dimple popping up above his cheek, at least it did until he saw my phone and how his name appeared. “Hey, why does that say Voldemort?” he said, his voice filled with mock outrage. “I’m much more a Harry.”
“A Harry—really?”
“Okay maybe a Cedric,” he said, referring to the heroic, handsome one.
“Try a Weasley. You’d totally be one of the twins always trying to stir things up.”
“Brilliant prankster? I’ll take it.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Sitting there, joking with Zev, it felt like old times. In that moment, I forgot about Bethanne. I forgot about our fight. I forgot we broke up. Then his knee accidentally brushed up against my leg and that familiar touch made it all come crashing back, all those memories of him and his ex pressed together, while I was just standing there. My whole body felt numb.
I wanted to forgive Zev. I really did. I just wasn’t sure I could.
TWENTY-FOUR
“Ladies and gentlemen, at this time we’d like to begin our boarding for flight 2043 to Boston,” a voice announced over the loudspeaker.
“It’s a miracle!!” My prison sentence at the airport was over, I was being released. They finally, finally, finally called my flight. It was time to go home. Well, Boston, and then home. But close enough! “I don’t think I could have taken it much longer. Thank God we’re getting out of here.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Fitz said, standing up.
He had no idea. I put the heels of torture back on and got to my feet, trying to focus on the relief of going home instead of the cruel punishment my toes were facing. “Yes, it was.” I joined the group of people hovering by the gate ready to make a sprint for the door as soon as their zone was called. Fitz and Zev followed. “We’re like caged animals here,” I told him. “Worse. This is like one of those sadistic experiments where they trap you in an enclosed place with a bunch of other people and watch how you respond, waiting to see how long it takes until you crack. And from the looks of this crowd, it won’t be much longer.”
“Tell us how you really feel,” Zev said.
He probably did not want me to do that. The betrayal, hurt, and confusion I felt were still at the forefront of my mind.
“I am just calling it like I see it,” I said instead.
“Well,” Fitz said, “on the upside, you did get to see me again.”
“Yeah, like she said,” Zev mumbled, so that only I’d hear him, “the day was torture.”
I elbowed him. He could be jealous all he wanted, but Fitz had figured out how to get me back to New York, and I wouldn’t forget that. I guess not everyone at the airport was worried only about themselves.
“That is true,” I said. I couldn’t see Zev behind me, but I could almost imagine his eyes rolling all the way to the back of his head.
The people with small children and those who needed extra time boarded, then zone one was called.
“That’s me,” Fitz said. He was lucky, I was in the last zone. “I’ll see you on the plane. Maybe we can even get seats together.”
I nodded. “Sounds perfect.”
“Perfect,” Zev mimicked as Fitz walked away from us.
“Quit it,” I said, turning to face him, “Fitz is doing me a huge favor. Stop acting like a five-year-old.”
“Okay, I’m sorry, but quit pretending you’re into him.”
“Who said I was pretending?”
His eyes bore into mine. “I did. Because I know you still love me as much I love you. That doesn’t go away just because you want it to.”
I wanted him to be wrong.
“Love isn’t everything,” I said.
He shook his head, his eyes still on mine. “Yes, it is.”
Stop it, Zev. I didn’t want to think about him or love. I broke his gaze. If love was everything, it was everything that was wrong with me right now. It was why my heart felt like someone put a clamp on it and was squeezing tighter and tighter, making it almost impossible to breathe. It was why I felt like a shadow was living inside of me. It was why I felt like screaming, crying, and huddling in a tiny ball while I rocked myself back and forth. Nothing might be the answer, because I wasn’t sure I could take Zev back, and as much as Trina wanted it to be the case, not even flirting with a hot NYU guy had numbed the pain I was feeling.
I grabbed Zev’s ticket to check his seat number: 30C. I breathed a sigh of relief. I was 25A. I could not handle a whole flight next to him. I wasn’t ready for that yet. I still needed to figure everything out.
“Wait,” I said, reexamining his ticket. “You’re zone one boarding. You could have gotten on the plane already. Why didn’t you? They’re already on zone two. Go.”
He shook his head. “I’m not going to leave you here.”
“I’m fine.”
“I know.”
Damn it. It was the little things like that that were going to be my undoing. “Really,” I said, “you don’t need to wait for me.”
“What would your mom say,” he said, with mock outrage. Then he pulled out his phone and proceeded to text her:
“You are such a kiss-up.”
“Whatever works,” he said. That dimpled smile of his appeared again, and I couldn’t stop myself, I smiled back.
My zone was called and we got in line. I had been waiting so I’d be the first one to board, but I wasn’t the only one with that idea. I wound up about sixth.
“Some of you are going to have to check your bags,” the agent said. “You’ll be able to pick them up right as you deplane.”
This was bad. Very bad.
“I really need to keep my guitar with me,” I told her, once I got to the front. I could not leave Ruby. She was my prized possession. There was no way I could risk her getting stolen or damaged. I’d be panicked by the thought on a normal day, but with my performance tomorrow? This was major.
“I’ll check mine so she can keep hers,” Zev said.
“I’m sorry, but you’re both going to need to do it. Everyone from this point on is.” She handed us little pink tags to wrap around the handles.
“Please,” I said. “I’m begging you. Can I just try and see if I can find a spot? This is like my baby.”
She let out a sigh. “You can ask the flight attendants. See what they say.”
I thanked her as she scanned my ticket.
Zev and I walked down the pathway to the plane. Well, he walked. I hobbled. My feet had swollen, and walking in these nightmare shoes was hellish. I was more concerned about Ruby than my feet, though.
“Try to hide the guitar between us when we board,” he said.
I nodded. He dropped his suitcase by the open door for loading and then got on the flight. I was practically on top of him, trying to use our bodies to hide my case.
I actually made it to my row before I had a problem.
Zev and I opened just about every bin around us checking for room. There wasn’t any.
“Excuse me,” the flight attendant said. “You’re going to need to check that.”
> “Please, no.” Ruby was my everything. I couldn’t have her go under the plane. The airline lost luggage all the time. My last trip it took my mom two days to get her bag back and my dad’s was never found. “This guitar is my life. I can’t stow her.”
“Miss, you don’t have a choice,” he said. “All the bins are taken.”
“Please.”
“Miss…,” he said again.
Zev put his hand on my arm. “I think you might have to, Sari.”
I just stood there. I was at a loss. There was nothing I could do. If I kept fighting with the flight attendant and made a scene, I would be kicked off with Ruby. If I didn’t, I risked losing my guitar. I wanted to cry. Why couldn’t anything go right?
“Maybe I can help.”
It was Fitz.
He was two rows back. He stood up and moved into the aisle. “My bag is taking up one of those bins. I’ll check it, so she can put her guitar in.”
The flight attendant said okay, and after Fitz handed him his bag and did a little bit of rearranging of a jacket and a backpack that were also in there, Ruby fit right in.
“Fitz, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” It was official. He was Captain America. “You are my hero.”
“I tried to do the same thing,” Zev pointed out, but I ignored him.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” Fitz said.
“It was to me.”
“Please take your seats,” the flight attendant said, breaking up my gush fest.
As I turned to head to 25A, the woman in Fitz’s row called out to me. “Are you two together? You can have my seat, I’ll take yours,” she offered.
“Really?” I asked.
She nodded. “A cute couple like you shouldn’t have to sit apart.”
“Thank you, that would be great.”
Zev was still standing there. I could see his muscles tense. But what did he want me to do? Explain my messed-up social life to a stranger on a plane? It wasn’t like I was choosing Fitz over him. It was Fitz or a stranger. And the thought of being near a friend right now seemed nice.
The woman scooted out of her window seat, and I moved in.
I instantly felt the stress start to drain away.
All was good. I was going home.
TWENTY-FIVE
I was beginning to rethink my seat change. Fitz was stocky. Wide shoulders and giant arms, which both made their way into my space. My hips, on the other hand, ran into his. We were like inverted triangles, pressed up close to each other, and not in a fun, flirty way. It was uncomfortable. Fitz’s upper body was taking up a quarter of my seat. I tried to scrunch my arms together and make myself smaller to give us more room, but I couldn’t exactly change the laws of physics. It didn’t help that my limited legroom was taken by my backpack. But I’d take the uncomfortable seat, the knees hitting the back of the chair in front of me, and the stale air surrounding me, because at least I was on the plane!
A plane that hadn’t moved in what seemed like forever.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry for the delay,” the flight attendant said over the loudspeaker. “We are eighth in line for takeoff. In preparation, if you could please make sure your seat belts are securely fastened and all carry-on bags are stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. Make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in the full upright position. We’ll be coming by to check, and then going over some safety instructions.”
Eighth for takeoff? We’d be on the tarmac a long time. Hopefully not long enough for Boston to cancel the flight.
A few minutes later, the plane started to move, but I was under no illusions. It was just getting in place. We weren’t close to taking off.
“Sir, I need you to sit back and put on your seat belt,” the flight attendant was saying to someone. “We can’t take off until you do, and I’m sure you don’t want to be responsible for us losing our place in line.”
“He’s hyperventilating,” someone else said.
“What now?” I asked. I couldn’t see. Fitz and the people behind me were blocking my view, but it sounded like some passenger was risking our chance of getting out of here. They needed to calm down—now.
“Whoa,” Fitz said, turning back to me. “It’s your friend. He’s freaking out.”
Crap. I took off my seat belt and stood up. Zev was doubled over and looked like he was having trouble breathing. I knew he had issues flying, but I hadn’t expected this. We weren’t even in the air, the plane was barely moving, and he was already a wreck.
“Let me out,” I said to Fitz.
He stood, and I ungracefully—tragically so—attempted to scoot past him. Fitz had moved toward the back of the plane (where I needed to be) instead of toward the front, and I couldn’t fit past him. After a little dance number where we unsuccessfully tried to switch places, he moved back into his seat, and I made it to Zev’s row. Only I wasn’t greeted with open arms.
“Miss, I need you to sit down,” the flight attendant said.
“I know. I’m with him. I can help.”
“She can have my seat,” the guy next to Zev offered, jumping up. He had been scrunched up against the window, probably afraid Zev would throw up on his shoes.
“Come on, Zev,” I said, and helped him stand up. “Let the man out. I’m going to sit with you.”
He stood, and I had an image of Bambi learning to walk. He seemed so fragile. I hated seeing him like this. It broke my heart—well, in an entirely different way than before, but it still hurt. All I wanted at that moment was to help him.
We sat back down, and the flight attendant brought over my bag.
“Hey,” I said, putting my hand on Zev’s back and rubbing it. “Look out the window; we’re not even taking off yet. The plane is just getting in position. It’s not time to panic yet.”
Zev looked over and stared at the tarmac for a bit. Finally, he spoke. “So you’ll let me know when it is?” His breathing was still ragged, but it was starting to come back to normal.
“Yes,” I said, “when I start screaming, you can freak out.”
The corner of his mouth crept up into a slight smile. “Like on the roller coaster?”
“Exactly.” I loved roller coasters, but I always screamed about ten seconds before the descent. It was the anticipation of the fall that I found the scariest. Zev would always tell me my shrieks were more panic inducing than the ride. “But,” I said, giving him the side eye, “if you can handle Kingda Ka at Great Adventure, this should be nothing.”
“I know.” His eyes stayed focused on the window. I guess he wanted to make sure we really were still on the ground. “I don’t know what it is about planes; it’s just different.”
“You’ve been in cab rides way bumpier than this is going to be,” I said. That may have been an exaggeration, but if it got him to calm down, I didn’t care.
Zev shrugged. “I told you I was a terrible flier.”
Then I remembered, the only reason he was on a plane at all was because of me. “How did you handle the flight down here?”
“It wasn’t as bad. I took something.”
“Um,” I said, my eyes bugging out at him, “why aren’t you taking something now?”
He rubbed his lids underneath his glasses. “I was in a rush to pack and get to the airport, I didn’t want to miss you. The pills wound up in the other suitcase, and I didn’t realize it until it was already checked.”
Zev had always been a last-minute packer. I could picture him tossing everything into his bag minutes before he left this morning. Now he was paying for that.
For the moment, he seemed to be doing okay, but that was bound to change. If he lost it that much from the plane just moving a bit, takeoff was going to be a challenge.
We sat there in silence. He clutched the armrests as the plane moved forward, but he kept his cool, at least until the plane started taxiing thirty minutes later. I felt the vibration as the wheels made their way down the runway, picking up s
peed, until the plane began liftoff. Zev’s eyes got wide as he stared out the window, watching the runway, the planes, the buildings miniaturize below.
“Look down,” I told him.
That stomach-sinking sensation that happens as the plane climbs higher washed through me. I actually found it a little exhilarating. This time more than ever. It meant I was finally getting out of Florida, but what was thrilling for me was making Zev sick. He was hunched over again, staring at his feet, his hands now on the seat in front of him, and the heavy breathing had returned.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yup,” he said, between painfully deep breaths.
He clearly wasn’t. I took the barf bag from the seat pocket and handed it to him. “Breathe in and out of this,” I instructed him.
He didn’t ask questions or protest, he just did it.
The plane seemed to be cruising now, but there was still a little turbulence, and Zev was Casper the Friendly Ghost white.
“Remember when we got lost trying to find our way to the Cloisters?” I asked him, trying to take his mind off things. It’s a museum in Upper Manhattan surrounded by a few acres of land. “The sun was brutal, and I didn’t think we were ever going to make it out of there.”
He pulled the bag away from his face. “I remember.” His breathing was still heavier than usual but calmer than it was a few minutes ago.
“But you got us out of there. You stayed focused and found us the path to the museum. We were fine.”
He nodded.
“We’ll be fine now, too,” I said. “I’ll help you get through this.”
He took another deep breath into the bag and looked up at me, trying to smile. “Are you going to sing to me?” He took another couple of breaths, “‘Summer Nights’?”
The thought of the song and the memories associated with it stabbed at my heart. “That only works with a partner.”
“I’m always game.”
That was true. “Where’s a karaoke machine when you need one?” I asked.
Airports, Exes, and Other Things I'm Over Page 10