Page 35 of In Flight

Eight

ON SUNDAY I’M IN ANOTHERfluster. This one can’t be fully classified as a tizzy because the excitement is mingled with concern for Isaac and anxiety that’s been growing over the weekend.

Not just worry for how he and his family are doing but also anxiety for me.

After Friday, whatever this thing is with Isaac feels real to me. Grounded. Like a lot more than interest and attraction.

And that changes things.

It might change everything.

So I ask my dad to call for a car to take me to the airport an hour earlier than normal so I’ll have some time by myself, sitting at the gate to process exactly what’s going on and how I feel about it.

When passengers start boarding the flight, I don’t have any clearer answers.

I’ve always poured myself into relationships too fully, too quickly, which invariably leads to my getting hurt by them. I believed I was doing better with Cash about protecting my heart, but now I’m acutely aware the main reason for my discretion with him was a lack of genuine interest.

I was content with Cash because I was entirely safe with him. My heart was never at risk.

But that’s not true of Isaac. I can already feel too much of myself spilling away into our connection and all the unintentional hopes I’ve been building up around it. In a different situation, I might simply go with it. Take the risk because of the chance of it working out.

There’s too much standing between me and Isaac, however. I’m not going to move back to Boston, and he’s got a good job there, moving up the corporate ladder in exactly the way he wants. The physical distance alone is reason enough for us to apply brakes.

Isaac is probably thinking we could have a good time in the remaining weeks our timelines match, but I’m not a casual person. I’ve never been able to detach well enough to manage one-night stands or no-strings-attached hookups.

But I also don’t want to give this up.

I have absolutely no idea what to do when my boarding group is announced. No sign of Isaac yet, but that’s not unusual. I walk down the aisle and take my seat, still trying to decide how best to handle whatever happens between Isaac and me today.

Before I realize what’s happening, they’re closing and securing the door. Then the plane jerks slightly before it begins to back away from the gate.

Isaac isn’t here. He didn’t show up at the last minute.

He’s missed his flight this evening.

I’m immediately upset but not because I’m hurt or believe for a moment that his absence is about me. It isn’t.

I know without question why he’s not here right now.

His grandfather is either about to die or he’s already dead.

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