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“Text me when you’re ready to be picked up,” he tells Yannick. “I’ll be at Tim Horton’s.”
Not able to change my ticket online, I stand in a long queue, not sure what flight I’ll be able to take. Yannick finds a seat across from the line of desks where he guards my case. After half an hour, I snag an agent.
I shove my ticket at her. “I need to change my flight.”
She thumbs the jacket and pulls out the somewhat crumpled piece of paper. Her tired smile looks pasted on. “Chicago. When do you want to leave?”
“Today. Whatever flight you have available.” I summon my woe-is-me expression and whisper, “Family emergency.”
Her fingers fly over the keyboard. She looks at the screen and rechecks my ticket. “You’re in luck. The next flight has one first-class seat available. Otherwise, the plane is full. Do you want it? You’ll have to hurry because they’re boarding soon.”
I nod. Inside, though, I’m shouting yes with a double fist pump. Adrenaline is keeping my spirits up.
“Luggage?”
I point to where Yannick sits with my case. “One bag.” I motion to him and put the bag on the scale.
“Perfect.” The printer clatters and spits out a boarding pass. “Just to the left for security. Bon voyage.” She hands me the boarding pass and my passport. We clear the security checkpoint. Like Case at O’Hare, he will accompany me to the gate and onto the plane.
Once through, we rush to the departure lounge, where people line up to board. It’s déjà vu. This could be O’Hare except the announcements are in both French and English, and Yannick is not exactly Case.
“Attention passengers for Flight 478 from Vancouver to Chicago. Because the plane is full, we request you to bring larger carry-on bags to the desk to be gate checked.”
Yannick takes my passport and ticket, then explains my situation to the agent. When he gets back, he shoves the paperwork at me. No point standing in line when I’ll be in the first group to board. “Why are you leaving so soon?” The abruptness of the question startles me.
“I told you, I have a family emergency.”
“Your father is dying?”
“No. No one is dying.”
“Can’t be much of an emergency.” So judgy.
My adrenaline crashes and I regret everything. “You can ask JL.” I turn my attention to the woman with the microphone, waiting for my group to be called. When I changed my flight, I almost switched from first class to economy, but they had a first-class seat available and there was no charge for the flight change. Being miserable in first class might be better than in coach. I can drink my sorrows away for free.
The agent calls out three names, including mine. We’re motioned over to board early.
Yannick grasps my elbow as we walk down the jetway. At my seat, he places my computer bag within easy reach, takes my hand and kisses it. “I hope you’ve contacted JL.”
Resentfully, I think,not your business, then realize that it is. JL is his boss and I’ve made Yannick do something that will piss off JL. “Yes, I sent him a text.”
There may be a glimmer of relief in his face as he says, “Au revoir, Madame Micki. Have a pleasant flight home.” He says nothing more, but disapproval hangs in the air like a thundercloud as he exits the plane.
I pull out my phone and text my parents.
ME: On my way home. See you in a few hours.
MOM: Should we meet you at O’Hare?
ME: I’ll have a ride.
ME: Any luck on a rental?
MOM: Yes. Tell you when you get here.
ME:????
ME: See you at the condo.
