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Dude, you just LEFT Dubai?
Paul is pissed.
Are you coming to work on Monday?
Where are you!?Paul is my direct supervisor and editor. His email is sitting in my inbox, unread. The subject line is ominous. Call me immediately.
So I do. While I wait in line in the cold, I tap Paul’s name on my screen.
“You better have one hell of an excuse for leaving your assignment early.”
That’s what he says when the call connects.
I open my mouth. My response—the one I prepared on the plane ride home—is on the tip of my tongue. An apology, some groveling, promises of picking up extra work—none of it comes out. Nothing.
“Aiden?” Paul prompts, annoyed that I’m not answering him.
“I…”
…am sorry.
It won’t happen again.
Those are things I could say, and instead, I say, “quit.”
“Excuse me?”
I release a crazed laugh, one that’s been building up inside of me for the last twenty-four hours. Holy hell this feels good.
“Yeah, I quit,” I say again, stepping out of the cab line.
“What do you mean you quit?” He’s pissed. “Is this some kind of joke? Are you high?”
I must be. There’s no other explanation for what I’m doing right now.
“This is the Times,” he continues. “You don’t fucking quit.”
I laugh again.
“I think I just did.”
When he speaks again, his tone is markedly less aggressive. It’s like he’s trying to talk me off a ledge. “You’re on the fast track to success, Aiden. Don’t be rash. Come into the office tomorrow morning and we’ll talk about this.”
“I’m going back to Texas right now.”
“You’re what?”
“I gotta go.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
He doesn’t understand, and it makes sense. Paul lives for his job. He’s at the office all the time. I’m not one hundred percent sure he doesn’t sleep there. Up until this moment, I envied him. Hell, I wanted to be him. Now, I realize I was wrong.
“Paul, when’s the last time you put your job on the back burner?” I ask, trying to get him to understand.
“Never. How do you think I made editor?”
“And are you happy?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Are you happy? Do you have people you care about?”
“Sure, yeah. I have a cat.”
I smile and shake my head, rolling my suitcase back into the airport.
“Aiden, if you leave New York City, if you get on a plane back to Texas, you’re done. Your career is over. No reference. Nothing. Do you understand?”
He doesn’t get it. He thinks I care about a letter of recommendation? His endorsement of my work ethic? Who fucking cares?
I’ll change careers. I’ll work at a fast food restaurant. I’ll deliver mail. I’ll wash cars. What the fuck is the point of life if I’m not spending it with Maddie? If I’m not waking up next to her every damn day?
“I gotta go.”
“Aiden—”
I hang up on him before he can continue. Then I run right back into the airport and head toward departures.
It’s late, but there’s still someone manning the Southwest desk. I ask when their next flight leaves for Austin.
“Twenty minutes,” the attendant says, squinting at her computer screen. “And that’s our final flight there for the day. I could get you on the 6:40 flight in the morning?”
“I want to be on the one in twenty minutes.”
She laughs. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. You’ll have to—”
I lean forward and shake my head. “That’s the flight I want. Put me on it. Please.”
She inhales a sharp breath, annoyed that I’m not taking her advice, but there’s not much more she can do. If I want to waste my money buying a ticket for a flight I probably won’t catch, that’s on me.
“All right. It’ll just take me a moment to process your payment and print out your boarding pass.”
It takes her two minutes and ten seconds, but who’s counting?
Once she’s handed over all my paperwork, I take off toward the TSA checkpoint. Someone shouts at me to stop running, so I slow down to a quick walk as I retrieve my ID out of my wallet. There’s no one in the security line, and because of all the traveling I do, I get to go in the pre-approved line and keep my shoes on.
“Step through,” the officer tells me, waving me through the metal detector. I wait for what feels like an eternity as he reads the monitor, then he nods and says I’m good to go. From there, I start running again, taking off toward terminal C.
They’re announcing the final call for my flight over the airport speaker. Boarding is finished.
“Aiden Smith, please make your way to gate 35.”
I kick it into gear, running as fast as I can down the hall. It’s not easy fighting the flow of traffic. I nearly collide with a few people. One guy curses at me, but I can’t stop. My gate’s just up ahead.
