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HAYLEY: TODAY
(Present Day)
Seattle, Washington
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TWO DAYS LATER, I LISTENEDto the sound of raindrops tap dancing against a taxi’s roof as rounds of thunder roared in the distance. I was grateful that the driver wasn’t interested in holding a conversation during this trip, as the only thing I would be able to say is, “I just want to get to the airport. Please.”
I looked out the windows as he steered the car through the twisting roads of Washington’s mountains, as he sped through familiar lanes I hoped to never see again.
An upcoming sign to my left read, SEATAC Airport, 15 miles.
I pulled my phone from my bag and sent a text message to Kelly.
ME: Heading to the airport. See you in San Fran in four to six weeks.
Her response was immediate.
KELLY: Be safe! Make sure your brother is okay with me joining you there.
I sighed and stared at my brother’s name on my contact list again. Today it was: Big Brother (Just Get It Over With!)
I still couldn’t do it. I needed to wait a few more minutes.
Instead of making the call, I scrolled through all my contacts and deleted every associate I’d made in this city.
By the time I was done, there were only five contacts left in my phone: Rockville Prison (Dad), a twenty-four-hour hotline for “Girls Who Grew Up without Their Mothers,” my brother, Kelly, and “My Chum.” The latter was a number I hadn’t called in years, but my heart ached at the thought of ever deleting it.
“Which airline are you taking, Miss?” The cab driver’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror as we approached the airport.
“None. Can you take me to the private terminal, please?”
“Right.” He laughed, nearly snorting. “I couldn’t drop you off there if I wanted to, sweetheart. I’d need an exclusive access pass with the name of the private plane’s owner and ID number. We’re both big dreamers, I see.”
“I have an access pass.” I pulled out the silver card my brother had given me years ago and handed it to him. “Private terminal, please.”
As he glanced at the name on the card, his eyes widened. He sat up a bit straighter in his seat and cleared his throat. “Right away, Miss.”
He proudly handed my access card to the security team when we arrived at the tower that stood in front of the private terminal. Then he steered his cab to the sleek, black glass building at the end of the access road.
Without saying a word, he helped me out of the car and took my suitcases out of the trunk. I didn’t mention the fact that he didn’t help me at all when I first hailed his cab.
I handed him the last of my money—a single, twenty-dollar bill, and he smiled before rushing back to his car.
Stepping inside the private terminal, I rolled my luggage to the lone seating area and pulled out my phone. I took a deep breath and finally called Jonathan.
“Yes, Hayley?” he answered on the first ring, as usual.
“Hey, Jonathan. How are you?”
“Decent. Did you receive the latest sPhone prototype in the mail last month?”
“I did.”
“Well, what did you think of it?”
Nothing, I had to pawn it ...“Well, it was great, but—” I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth. "I dropped it the first day, and it broke."
