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***
Saying goodbye isn’t too hard because the girls will come visit soon. It’s the cab ride to the airport that kills me. The radio is set on some ’80s love song marathon. It’s easy to say I can just ignore it, but when Barry Manilow is belting out a tune, you better believe your heart aches along with him. When I was growing up, these songs were so corny, yet Mom and Dad would put them on and stare lovingly into each other’s eyes while singing out of key.
That was love. Married for almost forty years, and even with all their quirks, that love never faded. Mom once told me that she loved Dad more now than the day she married him. Forty fucking years.
Stuck in the usual traffic jam to the airport, the driver turns the dial up on the radio when Chicago’s “Hard to Say I’m Sorry” comes on. Blinking my eyes to stop the tears, I force myself to think about my mascara and how I don’t want panda eyes at the airport. But I’m not that strong.
The cab driver actually asks me if everything is okay and I make up some lie about being homesick. Don’t need to get into the whole ‘the man I love got married today and I’m a pathetic single mom running away from all my problems’ story.
Song after song plays, and the more they sing about love, the more my mind wanders to today. Haden and Eloise are officially Husband and Wife right now. The vows to love each other for all eternity have been said and
done. The shiny bands are sitting on their fingers, and right about now, they’re having their first dance as a married couple to some sappy song that probably played only moments ago in my cab.
I have shed so many tears over him. I’ve spent countless nights waking up in a cold sweat. If I’m ever to move on with my life, I need to grab that glue and start mending my heart. He may have torn it apart, but I’ll be damned if I’m the one suffering this lonely life all because of him. He can go ahead and be married, have a dozen babies for all I care. We both stood at that fork in the road and he went the opposite way.
Fate—you’ve laid out all the cards and I’ll take mine so you can leave me the fuck alone.
When street signs indicate that the airport is only a couple of minutes away, I breathe a huge sigh of relief. The driver pulls alongside the curb and hops out of the cab, opening the door for me. With Masen in his carrier, an attendant pushes a trolley my way, escorting me to the check-in desk with my suitcases.
The hustle and bustle of the airport distracts me. Streams of people lining up all heading to different destinations. There are plenty of businessmen standing in the first class line waiting impatiently to be served. The economy line is full of families and crying kids, all waiting to continue their journey. It takes longer than expected and by the time I’m served, I don’t have as much time as I originally set aside before having to board the flight. Shit. I don’t know how this happened; I scheduled everything and gave extra time for any incidentals like traffic or queues.
You dropped the ball, Presley. It’s what happens when you’re suffering from a broken heart.
Oh, shut up, brain!
As I walk towards the gate, I see a line has already formed. Just great. I’m not sure if I have enough time to check Masen’s diaper and grab a bag of chips. I have barely eaten all day. Scanning the gate area for a spare seat to change Masen, my eyes move towards a man sitting on his lonesome near the entrance. With his head bent down, dressed in a black tux, he nervously plays with his wedding ring. How odd. As if someone would fly wearing a tux! It takes a moment for my brain to catch on but when it does, it’s like a strike of lightning followed by loud thunder. It hits me all in that one moment. That signature move, running his hands through his hair. Rubbing of his eyes beneath his thick black frames . . .
It can’t be.
You’re seeing things. You’re tired and delusional from the lack of sleep and food. You also possibly need your eyes checked for old age. Yeah, that’s it. Blame it on old age.
Yet I am drawn to this mysterious stranger. His behavior is odd and I’m surprised that airport security hasn’t detained him for being a suspicious weirdo. Oh god . . . what if he has a bomb?!
I’m walking slowly towards this madman, frightened for mine and Masen’s lives. What the fuck am I doing? Why is no one else helping me! The nervous rush running through my veins is making the blood in my heart pump so hard I’m certain everyone can see.
Then I stop.
A few steps away.
My heart stops, the beats barely existent as I stand on the spot, frozen. The blood drains from my face, and like I’ve seen a ghost, the noises around me fade into the distance. My stomach is nothing but a hollow pit, the walls caving in as the pain eats away at every part of me that has struggled to exist.
All because the man in the black tuxedo is my jerk.
The man who has so carelessly stolen my heart.
I’m walking towards him like a zombie and somehow manage to place Masen’s carrier carefully on the ground beside me. With a dry throat, I’m unable to speak the words sitting on the tip of my tongue. The words that have run circles in my head, begging me to speak them out loud every second since he walked away that night. But my pride steps in, and straightening my posture, I try to act calm and cool, not wanting him to see how much he broke me.
“What are you doing here?”
He doesn’t say anything, and the announcement reminding everyone that final boarding is commencing sends everyone around us into a hurried pace. Yet Haden is sitting perfectly still. Head down, staring at the carpet, twisting his shining wedding ring around his finger.
He got married. You saw the wedding ring earlier. Run now. Board that plane and never turn back. Don’t wait for him to shatter your heart even further, if that’s even possible.
“Did you know Britney Spears was married for less than twenty-four hours?” His tone is even, controlled, not a single whisper of any remorse.
Where is he going with this?
“Uh, yes I did . . .”
