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The chopper dips.
“We’re here.”
I was so caught up in my panic and then my text messages, and finally, letting my mind run wild, I didn’t ask where we were going. Or how long it’d take to get there. But deep down, I didn’t really care about the answer.
For now, I’m going to live in the moment.
“Where is here?”
Kingston
Forty-three.
Forty-four.
Forty-five.
I’m almost done with a fifty-count of pushups when the skies open up. Rain pings softly against the window, glittering like diamonds backlit by bright airport lighting. It’s dark out, and I’m not even sure what time it is anymore. Thanks to a volcano in Iceland, air traffic around Europe is at a standstill.
My phone died an hour ago, and I’ve had it plugged in since. Most everyone has nodded off during the night. The woman in the chair next to my luggage snores softly.
Forty-six.
Forty-seven.
A prickle of awareness along the back of my neck has me lifting my head. Across the aisle, a guy about my age is slouched in his chair, eyes locked on me. He’s got unnaturally dark hair, three piercings in his left eyebrow and a ‘who the fuck cares’ vibe.
Ten years ago, he’d have been just my type.
Forty-eight.
Forty-nine.
Once upon a time, I was drawn to that devilish nonchalance. The antithesis of all things Upper East Side. Now, I can’t get back to Katherine fast enough.
Fifty.
Ignoring the hottie’s obvious interest, I shove to my feet. Too much time cooped up in airports makes me restless.
I slide into my chair, trying not to disturb my neighbors since all the seats are connected, and reach for my pretzels. The small bag is almost empty, and so is my stomach.
I shove the last pretzel into my mouth and flip my phone over. There’s enough charge to boot up. Thank goodness.
Frustration burns through my chest. Normally, travel interruptions aren’t a big deal, but I’m sure I’ve missed the gala by now. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I count back on my fingers. Yep. There’s no way I’m making it in time to see Katherine on that stage.
I stretch my neck left, then right. All this sitting around and waiting is driving me bonkers.
My phone pings softly, and a notification bubble with Katherine’s name pops up across the top of the screen. Finally.
I ignore how long it took her to get back to me because it took three tries for my last message to even go through. Maybe the volcano is messing with more than air travel.
Is it possible to be too eager to hear from your best friend?
Katherine: You were right. As usual.
I scroll up to the photo she took before leaving for the gala. The green color is perfection on her. But the woman makes the dress.
My mother and grandmother have said that all my life, and I’m not sure if I ever truly understood those words until now.
