Page 53 of Implode

The taxi driver takes me to Reagan National Airport. It has not even been twelve hours that I’ve been here and I’m already coming back, this time without a physical ticket or any hope to ever return. I came here to get closure, and despite being met with opposition, I got exactly what I needed to end this chapter and start a new one.

I walk up to the luggage drop-off for the biggest airline available and ask, “Can I please get a flight back to Portland?”

The worker types on the keyboard for a few seconds and then smiles. “We have one seat left and the flight is leaving in about forty minutes. Do you want it?”

“Yes, please.”

I need to go home.

15

NIC

My girl is coming back to Portland and expected to land in the next ten minutes. I have been unable to think, constantly wondering if she is having fun, if she is warm, or if she is taking good care of herself. I never worried about anyone as much as I have worried about Claire. Something has been bothering her lately, and I want to do everything I can to protect her.

The thoughts of Claire hailing a cab or relying on mass transit don’t sit well with me, so I decide to surprise her by picking her up myself. At least I’ll be able to see for myself that she is all right and not rely on her minimal usage of words via text. Her strength is admirable, but it has to be exhausting trying to be everything for everybody. Maybe she went back east because someone was sick. Perhaps it was a family reunion. Whatever the case, it was urgent and didn’t require her to be there long. I can’t shake the feeling of trepidation over just how short her stay really was.

I make it to baggage claim just as the luggage is dropped down the slide for the circular conveyor belt. I scan the area for Claire and pray I didn’t miss her. I look at the row of monitors and see that her plane is just unloading now. I didn’t have a chance to try to upgrade her ticket, so I can only hope she was comfortable on the long flight back here. Being in the middle seat, squished between two people, does not sound fun at all. She has to be so tired.

I watch as people greet one another from the various flights and wait for my girl to arrive. I made her a sign, so there is no mistaking that I am here for her. After about twenty minutes, I grow anxious and start pacing the area. And then I spot her on the escalator coming down.

Claire is staring at her feet, toting her carry-on over her shoulder, and looking like she hasn’t slept in over a week. My poor girl looks like she has been crying, and it takes everything in me not to make a scene. I hold up my sign—which basically is an enlarged cutout photo of her face on a stick handle—and wait for her to notice me.

It isn’t until she steps off the escalator that she looks up and does a double take. When she sees me holding her head, a smile brightens up all of her sad features, and in this moment, I know that it is all worth it. I will do anything I can to bring her joy. She is my sun.

Claire lets her bag slide off her shoulder and starts walking fast toward me. And then she breaks out into a jog. I meet her halfway and scoop her up into my arms, dropping the sign as I do it. I hold her, my fingers tangling in her hair.

“You showed up,” she mumbles into my shoulder. I can feel the dampness from what I assume are tears seeping through the fabric of my shirt.

“I will always show up for you, baby.” I kiss her neck and her hair, but she doesn’t smell like my Claire. What the hell happened to her in Virginia?

Her sniffles cut me. I give her a chance to calm herself down before I set her on her feet and get a good look at her. For someone who always looks put together, I’m surprised to find Claire so disheveled. Don’t get me wrong, she is still beautiful. I just hate to see her so broken.

Picking up the sign that is resting on the floor, I give her another once-over. Something is off. “Let’s get your bags. I’m taking you home.”

She nods and looks back to the location where she dropped her stuff when she came barreling toward me. I walk her over and toss the strap around my shoulder. I don’t care that it is pink and striped. I will carry any of her burdens if I can. By now, the checked bag has made it to the circuit, and I pull it from the belt and extend the handle so I can wheel it along.

“Is this everything?” I ask, looking down at my girl who is trembling and biting her bottom lip. What the fuck? I bend down to be eye level with her. “Claire? Are you hurt? Sick from your flight? What’s wrong?”

She glances away and I want to hit something. What happened in Virginia that has her this traumatized? “Just my heart,” she says softly.

I hug her to me and guide her out of the terminal and into the first shuttle I can find. We sit together and get taken to the short-term parking lot where I have my car waiting to escort her back to the life she has here. I thought her going back to Virginia would have done her some good. By the looks of it, it seems like it has caused her pain and heartbreak.

I help her into the passenger seat, secure her belt, and hand her a bottle of chilled ginger ale I had waiting for her to drink. I unscrew the cap and let her sip from the opening. I shut the door and walk around the back of the car, counting to ten to keep my mood in check. Claire doesn’t need me to go into caveman mode right now. What she needs is a safe spot to open up to me.

I start the engine and back out of the spot, keeping an arm draped around the backside of her seat. I see her shiver and quickly turn down the air conditioning. She is wearing a hoodie, and it is warm out for being late afternoon, yet here she is fidgeting and looking cold. At a red light, I reach into the backseat and hand her a fleece blanket. Penny left it by accident, but I know she won’t mind Claire using it.

“Nic?”

I look over at Claire, trying not to wince at her fragile appearance. She looks seconds away from breaking down. “Yeah, baby?”

“Can you go through a drive-thru and get me a hot chocolate?”

“Have any particular place in mind?”

She shakes her head. “Any will do.”

I nod and pull through the closest chain coffee shop on the way back to get her a large hot chocolate made with her favorite almond milk. She gives me a smile when asked about the whipped cream add-on, and when I place the cardboard cup into her hands, she wraps both around it and takes the first sip.

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