Page 42 of Two days, One Pucking Night

My eyes fall on a piece of paper beside my bedside table, and I reach for it.

Xavier,

Words can never articulate some stories, experiences, and encounters. You are one.

I’m not good with goodbyes. And since you and I both know this is the end, it’s best things end like this.

Always,

Sofia

My heartbeat ricochets in my chest. All I can hear is the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears. I hold my breath. An eternity passes.

Again, I try to call her. When that fails, I go onto the British Airways website, recalling that was the flight she used. I check their list of flights. The last one was at seven. I doubt she took it. Unless she immediately left after we fell asleep.

The next available flight is in almost two hours.

I pick up the same clothes I had on the night I met her and rush out of the house.

Driving what would normally be over an hour in forty-five minutes, I park and rush through the airport, looking for the departure gate for her designated flight. I’m not sure what I’m going to say when I see her, but I know we can’t end one of the best weekends of my life like this.

I peer down at my watch: 11:15. I’m not sure if she’s gone through customs already. But I have to try, at least.

I’m running through a sea of bodies, hoping and praying she hasn’t rushed to board early, that maybe just maybe—

“Sofia?” I recognize the curls in her hair and the natural glow her skin emits. The skin I’ve spent days marking, memorizing.

She stops and turns. The raw emotion on her face guts me.

“Sofia,” I yell out again.

She doesn’t move, simply stands there. Time seemingly stills.

There is so much I want to say. So much I wish I had made clearer before this, then perhaps—

I read the words on her lips, “Goodbye, Xavier,” and I take in her red-rimmed eyes.

Slowly she turns her back to me. The gate opens and closes. I stagger backward. My heart is in my throat.

Gone.