Page 83 of The Wedding Forecast

‘So.’ My body is trembling a little. It must be the cold weather, the lack of sleep, the extreme amounts of caffeine—it’s all hitting me now.

‘What are you doing for the rest of the day?’ I ask. I don’t know why I’m making casual small talk. Well, yes I do. I’m in denial about saying goodbye. I want to act normal, like this is fine, like it’s nothing.

‘Uh, I have to reschedule some things and catch up on stuff,’ he says.

‘What things?’

‘Well,’ he says, half-smiling and half looking like he doesn’t want to say. ‘I cancelled a bunch of stuff this week.’

‘You did?’ I don’t know why I’m surprised.

‘You didn’t think it was weird I was free to hang out every day?’ he says.

‘I…don’t think I thought about it,’ I say, feeling somewhat dense. Of course it was odd, in hindsight. ‘What did you miss?’

‘Oh nothing big. I cancelled lunch with my agent, I no-showed a physio appointment, and I need to apologise to a few friends for bailing on things.’

‘That sounds like a lot. I’m sorry.’

‘I’m not.’

I can’t look at him properly because I’m scared he’ll see too much in my eyes.

‘Well, you should go before you get too cold.’ I am being almost awful, but I need him to just go, rip the band-aid off, I am scared of how I feel right now, let alone what I’ll be like when he’s gone. Just go, just go, just get out of here. Like chasing a wild animal you nursed back to health off into the woods. Go! Live your happy, free life without me! Leave me to dramatically collapse and have a breakdown!

I finally look up and meet his eyes.

Hayley walks over, and it feels like she’s interrupting a pivotal moment, but she’s not, because what more is there to say? We live on different sides of the world. We have different lives. Neither of us has any plans to move. This isn’t a big deal. We slept together a few times. It’s a very standard holiday fling.

‘Mac, it’s been so good to see you again,’ Hayley says, hugging him. I can feel her watching, assessing, trying to gauge the situation. She has noticed the hoodie for sure.

I smile brightly.

‘Bye,’ I say, hugging him again.

‘Bye,’ he says.

We hold on to each other for a long time, until I can feel missing-the-plane anxiety vibrating off Hayley from several paces away. I step back, swallowing down every emotion.

I want to say, ‘See you soon!’ or offer some sense that we will stay close. But we won’t.

‘Bye,’ I say again. ‘Until we see each other again one day.’

‘Until then,’ he says.

We look at each other for one last moment, and I leave.

26

OUR FLIGHT TO San Francisco is cancelled as soon as we arrive at the airport. We join a long line of people rebooking onto different flights. We need to get to San Francisco in time to make the connection for the flight to Melbourne. Everyone is stressed and our bags are heavy and this is always the part of travel that feels like actual hell, that makes me swear I am never, ever flying anywhere again.

But at least the chaos distracts me from the physical ache in my chest.

Hayley and I get put on the same flight but we’re not seated together, and I am relieved. I put the sleep mask over my eyes and headphones in and I let myself weep, a little, and I don’t care if my seatmate notices me wiping tears off my cheeks, I’ll tell him I’m listening to a sad audiobook (an unnecessary plan, as it turns out, the man sitting next to me doesn’t care one single bit). After that, Hayley and I are rushing to make our connecting flight, and we don’t really have time to talk until we’re in the air on our second leg of the journey. I have done my weeping, at least. I will feel normal again when I get home, I tell myself. I will, I will, I will.

Plane feelings are worse than 3 am feelings. And they are absolutely not real. The whole trip has heightened everything. It’s almost Christmas. I am notoriously sentimental in December and I am never emotionally stable at Christmas, no one is. I quit my job via email while on annual leave! If that’s not a sign of impulsive behaviour, I don’t know what is. There were twinkling lights everywhere, I was in New York, I had no sense of reality. Of course I thought I was falling in love. I may as well have been on the moon. My body was poised to fall in love with the first man it met in this situation. It could have latched onto a doorman, any random man on the street, someone in a Santa costume. I’d watched You’ve Got Mail and When Harry Met Sally on the plane on the way over, I’d set myself up and I was walking around like I was Meg bloody Ryan. Not real, not real, not real, I tell myself like a chant. You’ll crash back to earth so fast, so soon.

In the plane bathroom forty-five minutes after take-off, I discover I have started my period. It feels symbolic. You had your fun, and now, we’re back to this. Or, here, have a truly horrific flight home. Or, everything you felt was actually PMS combined with jet lag.