“Your ticket. You’re flying home Business Class.”
“Really?”
“I thought it would make the journey a little better,” they say and bring me back into their embrace. “I hope that’s okay.”
I nearly tell them that the only thing that will make this journey better is if they’re sat on the seat next to me, but I don’t.It’s not fair. It’s not fair to put that kind of pressure on them and it’s not fair for me to even think about what that possibility would look like. That feels like a surefire way to torture myself.
Instead, I nod and brave a small smile.
“I’ll see you soon. Less than six weeks,” Loncey reminds me. “It will fly by. And you have Patience to get to know and cuddle and enjoy.”
“I do,” I agree and it’s the only part of their statement that I can agree with because I highly, highly doubt the time is going to fly by. I can almost feel how stubbornly and unpleasantly it’s going to drag out.
“And we’ll speak every day.”
“Every day,” I repeat because I don’t feel like I have any more of my own words. I bury my face in their T-shirt and inhale their woodsy, sweet smell.
“Will you promise me one thing, Maeve?”
I lean back and look up at them. “What?”
“Keep dancing,” they say. “You have a real talent for it, but more than that, I can see how much you enjoy it, and you deserve to do things that you enjoy.”
“Then you have to make me the same promise,” I say. “You have to keep painting. And driving out to the desert. And wearing the clothes you actually want to wear.”
I add the last request tentatively, unsure how it will be received. But Loncey doesn’t flinch, doesn’t do anything but smile slowly and broadly.
“Okay,” they say, and they kiss the tip of my nose as if to seal their promise.
“I should go,” I repeat but like before, I don’t move.
Loncey wraps me up in their arms again and there’s something so strong, so affirming, so comforting in their tight, tight hold that it breaks the final barrier I’d built to stop my tears from tumbling free. I cry into their T-shirt until I’m hiccupping,and I feel Loncey chuckle lightly as my body jolts. They squeeze me closer to them and I hope they’ll forgive me for the marks my tears and snot will leave behind.
I don’t know how long I stay like that crying – and hiccupping – in their embrace but I know it’s too long. I really do have a flight to catch.
“Go home to your family, Maeve,” Loncey whispers in my ear. “They can’t wait to see you.”
I soak up the limited comfort their words give me and I finally, finally pull back far enough that I can’t be tempted to simply crash back into their arms. Reaching for my suitcase with one hand, I roughly wipe my cheeks and nose with the back of my other.
“I bet I look like a fecking mess,” I tell them.
“You never look a mess,” they tell me. “Apart from this one time when you were waiting for an elevator in a Las Vegas hotel…”
They’re teasing me and I don’t know how they’re keeping it together so well. I believe their heart is breaking too at the prospect of six weeks of distance, and yet they’re somehow strong enough to keep smiling and keep telling jokes.
“I fucking love you,” I say before inhaling deeply, readying myself to use that breath to walk away.
“I fucking love you too,” they echo and I see it then, a single tear emerging from their right eye and slipping down their cheek.
“Goodbye, Loncey,” I say.
“Goodbye, Maeve,” they echo.
And then I move my body through more treacle as I walk my heavy heart away from them.
*****
Once settled on the plane in a very comfortable Business Class window seat, I decide that I just need a year. I just need a year to get to know my niece, to be confident that she knows me well enough that when I pop up on Marty’s phone screen or when I return for visits she won’t be oblivious to who I am. During that year, I’ll do what I can to research getting a visa to live and work in the States. I’ll spend those twelve months wisely, making sure everything is set up so once my year is over, and then Loncey and I can be together properly, for good.
