Page 9 of The Try Line

JASON

“This is your captain speaking, welcoming you to Raleigh-Durham International Airport. Apologies for more delays, the recent weather has caused some ongoing construction, resulting in a backup. We are currently waiting to pull into the gate. It shouldn't be much longer than twenty minutes or so. As soon as the coast is clear, we'll pull up and have you on your way. But for now, if you could sit back and keep your seatbelts on until we're at the terminal and the seatbelt sign has been turned off. The local time is approximately one sixteen A.M. The temperature is a balmy seventy-two degrees with high humidity. On behalf of the entire crew of Delta 8647, we appreciate your patience and thank you for choosing Delta Airlines.”

I suppress a huff, annoyed and exhausted. What's another twenty minutes after a solid eighteen hours of delays?

"One more while you wait, sir?"

I look up and see the pretty flight attendant holding up a tiny bottle of Maker's Mark and a cup of ice. God bless first class seating and over-friendly service.

"Why not?" I say, nodding. "Are you allowed to have one yet?" I ask, nudging the second bottle she's holding in her hand, though she’sprobably keeping it ready for me. I'm tempted to drink them both at once. I'm tragically sober, but I'm not sure showing up sloppy drunk is the right move.

The flight attendant scrunches her cute button nose and looks behind her as the plane moves forward slowly, taxiing to the terminal.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

She huffs out a laugh and lowers herself into the empty row of seats across from mine. "Wish I could."

"It would sure help you keep a smile on your face while you have to thank all these assholes that you put up with for the past fourteen hours."

She laughs again, batting her eyes as she upends one of the bottles into an empty cup and passes it to me, then opens a bottle of sparkling water for herself. "I'm a lightweight anyway," she giggles, before holding her cup out to me to tap against mine. She's cute, but she's barking up the wrong tree. Still, it doesn't hurt to be friendly, and a little flirting never hurt anyone.

I take a sip of the bourbon and say a silent prayer that it fixes all my problems.

"You don't seem all that glad to be home," she says, crooking an eyebrow over the faux crystal cup.

The flight was nearly empty because of the weather delays, which suited me fine. I'm not really in the mood to be around many people. I’m just another face in the states, but my face is recognizable in Wales and among sports fans across most of the UK.

I’m usually a pretty personable guy, and I generally enjoy being around people. But I’m not in the right headspace to be that guy right now. The silence of a long, empty flight has been welcomed. I usedthe time to steel myself for the family gathering I'm about to walk into. My first time home since…

I clear my throat to pull myself out of the memories. "Been a long time since I've been back." I take another deep sip. "Eighteen years, almost to the day," I clarify.

"Oh wow. That is a long time." Her Welsh accent is a comforting reminder of the place that has been my home for almost two decades. "I suppose you didn't leave just to play rugby then."

I hum noncommittally, finishing my drink. She doesn't pry for more information, which I appreciate. I'm not a major celebrity or anything like that, but I'm well known enough that it’s not surprising to be recognized. And while the fame and notoriety that playing professional sports has brought me hasn’t been excessive, there are moments where my personal life has been put in the spotlight by people hoping to draw attention to themselves.

The seatbelt sign turns off with a ding, and the other four people sitting in first class stand to pull their bags from the overhead compartments. The flight attendant stands as well, smoothing down her shirt and pasting a bright smile to her face. Ugh, I bet that's exhausting.

"Thank you, Sara. You've certainly made the trip more tolerable."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. Reinier. Truly." She blushes a little. "My family are big fans, especially my youngest brother. You give him hope for the future."

Her meaning isn't lost on me. And here I thought she was flirting. Clearly, I have zero game.

"I'm honored," I say, and I mean it.

Being an openly gay athlete in any part of the world can be tough, but Wales has been very welcoming to me. Knowing I have even thesmallest impact on someone is nearly enough to melt my frozen heart.

"Uh, actually… If you'd like…" I fumble with my carry-on. "My nephew asked me to bring some of these for his friends, otherwise I wouldn't have them with me," I say, because the celebrity thing still embarrasses me a bit and I don't want anyone to think I'm full of myself by carrying this shit around.

I ask her brother's name and make out a note to him; some sappy shit about staying true to who you are. It’s not that I don't mean it, I'm just not feeling particularly inspired. "Here," I say, and hand her a small stack of photos and merch.

"Thank you. He'll be so thrilled." I nod and wish her well before exiting the plane.

The airport is dark and quiet. At this late hour, all the shops and restaurants are closed, and almost all the terminals are completely empty. After baggage claim, I make my way to the rental counter and give the bored-looking attendant a tired smile. It wasn’t my intention to rent a car since I’ll be staying with family, but there's no way I’ll be able to get an Uber at this hour. It takes an excruciatingly long time to do a little paperwork and answer questions about insurance, but there’s at least no doubt that I’m stone cold sober by the time I'm handed the keys to an ostentatiously large luxury SUV with tinted windows. I really don't need all this, but the pickings were slim, and it was this or a car the size of a roller skate. Besides, after I turned my phone back on and checked my messages, I realized that I'm going to need an escape plan.

After throwing my luggage in the back of the vehicle, I sit back and cover my face with my hands. I'm tempted just to sleep here. It's large enough, even for someone my size. I pull out my phone again and check for nearby hotels. I look at everything, from the cheapest sketchy motels to the most expensive vacation rentals and luxury hotels within an hour of my sister's house. At this point, I don't carewhat it costs. The hotel I was supposed to stay in, the one I booked months ago, had to close for renovations after getting flooded and sustaining significant damage during a chain of severe storms that came through the area last week. More than one hotel shared the same fate, and the rest are fully booked with displaced residents and people visiting for the multiple graduations happening over the weekend.

Just my fucking luck.

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