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MILES
TWO WEEKS LATER
We get out of the car together, relieved to stand up after sitting in traffic for ages. “Let me help you with your bags,” says Olivia, crossing round to the boot to open it.
“Déjà vu,” I say quietly.
“If you want to carry them in yourself, that’s fine by me. Makes a change from me doing everything,” she says, though I don’t think she one hundred percent means the snark in her voice. There’s a look in her eyes that seems sad, like she’s also remembering the first time we met.
So much has changed since then.
“Come on,” she says, grabbing one of my bags and hoisting it out of the car.
“Thanks for bringing me to the airport,” I say as I grab the other one. “I really appreciate it.”
She slams the boot shut and locks the car, the noises echoing eerily through the parking garage. “A thank-you?” she says, raising both eyebrows. “Are you feeling okay?”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, man, whatever. It’s not that unusual.”
Olivia makes a noise that clearly means she thinks otherwise. I don’t argue, though. Today isn’t for arguing.
We walk together to the airport, snaking our way down the stairs and weaving through corridors until we hit departures, each of us dragging one bag behind us. Olivia persuaded me to ship more of my stuff this time, so I only have two suitcases and my big rucksack, which I’ve been told I have to carry. I could probably have managed all this stuff by myself.
But then Olivia would have just dropped me off and not come in with me, and I wanted to see her one last time. That sounds so final. One last time. It’s like I really do believe that I’m never going to see her again.
This is a girl who's cracked me open like a walnut and somehow hasn't thrown away the shell yet. She’s seen every part of me and still kept coming back for more. If I never had to leave, would we still have to end?
We step into the terminal at last. It’s bustling with people, some in a hurry, some trying to take their time. By one check-in desk, a father leans down to hug and kiss each of his three kids in turn before he has to leave them. By a door, two girls embrace like the last thing they want to do is let go. There are families and single travelers, suitcases and handbags, people in scarves and people in sunglasses.
To any of them, we would look like any other couple of people. Just a girl waving goodbye to a guy, our history as easy to invent a story about as anyone else’s. It could be anything at all.
We drag my bags towards the check-in counter, and I shove my passport into the self-service machine, clicking through all the questions so I can get the tags printed. It would probably be faster to go to a real person, but Olivia is lingering here and I don’t want her to go.
I’m not sure what I’m meant to do now, if I should hug her or kiss her once more, if I should sneak into the bathroom with her and say goodbye properly. All I really want is some sign that she’s going to miss me.
The machine creaks as it prints out the tags, and I keep staring up at Olivia as I fix one onto the bag in my hand, trying desperately to think of something to say to her. Eventually, I just reach out for the bag she’s holding, waving the label at her. We do a weird, awkward dance and I chuckle. “Guess I'll have that, then,” I say.
“Yeah,” she replies, releasing the bag and stepping out of the way like she’s surprised to see she’s still holding it. Like she’d forgotten she was.
“Guess you can’t wait to see the back of me,” I joke, though my heart isn't really in it, and it ends up sounding kind of pathetic.
“Oh, yeah. I can't wait to stop babysitting,” she says a little too quickly. We both chuckle awkwardly again.
I clench my fists. It’s taking pretty much everything I have to not sweep her off her feet, to walk us over to the ticket counter and buy her a ticket so she can come with me, or else say fuck it and go home with her. How can this have meant nothing to her?
“It wasn’t all bad, though, right?” I ask, wincing at the way I sound utterly desperate for validation.
She shrugs. “There were some good bits. Get your own car sorted next time, though, yeah?”
“Next time?” I say hopefully.
“Maybe,” she says, stepping on my heart.
There’s a loud announcement through the speaker system and a whole bunch of people who have been milling around start snapping into action. Security is going to be a nightmare now. I don’t want to, but it’s time to go.
“Well, I should probably head out.”
“Yeah,” she says, still unmoving. Honestly, I'm finding it hard to believe that she didn't drop me off and run. I’d have thought she’d have spent more than enough time with me by now to satisfy her forever.
