1
maisie
This trip is goingto be the death of me.
“What do you mean, we can’t bring our scent blockers on the plane?” I argue with the sour-pussed TSA agent while my sister digs around in her bag, searching for her passport.
This trip was our mother’s dying wish. She wanted her daughters to experience the magic of the Scottish Highlands together, specifically the town she grew up in, Gleann Dùil.
She thought it would rekindle our fractured relationship.
But as Birdie dumps the contents of her entire bag on the floor of the airport, scrounging around to find her passport, I’m not even sure we’re going to get on the plane.
“Ma’am, like I’ve explained, it’s not approved in countries outside of the US. You’ll either need to dispose of the medication or you’re not getting on an international flight,” the agent says, looking like she wants to throttle me and the feeling is mutual.
The medication lasts a week and prevents us from being able to scent other people. It’s the only thing that’s going to get me through this flight—through this whole trip.
“Ah ha! I found it. Told you I packed it,” my sister says, shoving all her shit back into her bag.
The TSA agent stares at me and I let out an indignant huff. Shaking out two pills, I give my sister one and pop the other in my mouth, swallowing it dry.
I wasn’t due for another dose for another few days, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I toss the rest of the medication in the trash bin and she waves us past, through security.
“What are you going to do on the way back?” Birdie asks and I just shrug, because I have no clue.
“I’ll figure something out,” I stick with. Maybe there’s something over the counter we can get in Scotland.
My phone is buzzing in my pocket with messages from work. There are a trillion people in this airport and I feel on edge. I’ve been feeling like this a lot lately, overwhelmed to the point I think I might crack. I mean, I never do. I always keep my shit together under pressure. Yet, it feels like a dark cloud is following me in warning, like the smallest thing is going to be what sends me over the edge.
“Maisie, your bag,” Birdie says, bumping my hip as I grab it out of the bin and shake away the negative thoughts.
Now is not the time to break down—not while we’re traveling internationally, not when we’re spreading our mom’s ashes, and not when we're working on our relationship.
I can handle this. I can do my work and spend time with Birdie. I’ll figure it out. I’m used to working long hours, it will be fine.
At least with the deodorizers we’re wearing and the scent blockers we’re taking, it’s almost like traveling as a Beta, but not completely. Alphas can still discern our designation, even if they can’t scent us.
Luckily, I’ve gotten great at ignoring Alphas. I work with a decent amount of them, which has nearly turned me off the designation completely. If not for my heats, and a debilitatingneed for a knot, I’d probably ignore them entirely. The scent blockers were a huge help on that front.
The anxiety over not being able to take them is lingering in the back of my mind, but I just have to ignore it. I’ll deal with it as it comes, just like everything else.
As we wait for our plane to board, I’m putting out fires at work. They weren’t happy about me working remotely for a month, but with my promise of being available despite the time difference, they allowed it.
I’ve worked so hard to become the head of marketing for our Omega cosmetics line, and there’s no way I’m going to let this trip set me back in my career.
My mom’s final words to me ring around my head and I push them to the side as we board our plane. I pay for the Wi-Fi and work the entire flight. At least when I’m working, there’s no time to be introspective about everything else going on in my life.
I'm exhausted. I didn't sleep the whole flight, and I grip the steering wheel with a white knuckle grip as I drive our rental from Edinburgh to our bed-and-breakfast in the Highlands.
"I could drive for a little while," Birdie says, and I just shake my head.
"It's fine, I've got it," I tell her, mostly because I've seen my sister's driving. I've at least gotten the hang of it a little.
At least I think I do...
"Maisie, shit, you're too far to the left," Birdie says.
"I'm not," I snap back.
