Page 93 of One Year Ago in Spain
She and Esmeralda reached the plane. If Matías wasn’t going to be here, did Claire really have to go through with this?
Yeah, I do,she thought. Just like she had promised that she would learn Spanish no matter what happened to Matías, she had decided to come here as proof of how she was willing to putherself out there for him. And that was still true, whether or not he would witness it.
Esmeralda patted her on the back. “¿Lista, Claire?”Are you ready?
Claire clung to the doorframe for a moment. Then she said, “Lista,” and ducked inside the pocket-sized plane.
—
The door ofthe plane did actually close. It was like a smaller, clear version of a garage door that rolled down once everyone was on board. The British couple buckled into the jump seats to Claire’s left, and Esmeralda and the other instructors were buckled in across the narrow aisle. Although everyone else enjoyed watching the takeoff through the transparent door, Claire squeezed her eyes shut.
Not long after they were airborne, one of the instructors rolled the door back up.
Claire’s eyes flew open. “We’re already going?”
“No, no,” Esmeralda shouted. “It is only to allow in some air. Otherwise it will be too stuffy while we wait to reach altitude.”
“How high are we going?”
Esmeralda raised her eyebrows. “That was in the video you watched. Do you remember?”
Claire shook her head. Right now, she couldn’t do anything other than cling to her seat. She certainly couldn’t recall a specific number.
“Fifteen thousand feet,” the British man yelled over the noise of the wind. “One of the highest offered in all of Europe!”
“That’s why we chose this company,” his partner said with an approving nod toward Esmeralda and the other instructors.
Claire shut her eyes tight again, every muscle taut, hands pressed together like in prayer.
Icando this on my own,she thought,but I don’twantto, Matías.
I want to do everything withyou.
I want to wake up every morning and have breakfast with you. I want to spend each evening curled up on the couch, talking about our days. I want your opinion about my career. I want to watch you for five hundred hours while you craft miracles out of blank wooden panels and paint.
I want you to be able to tell me about Vega without being afraid you’ll hurt me. And I want to tell you stories about my childhood and about Jim and Sarah, even if it makes me cry to remember that they’re gone.
I want to give youallof me, even the softest, most frightened parts that I usually keep hidden under chain mail and steel plates.
You would do anything for me, Matías, and I want to prove that I’ll do anything for you, too.
“This seems like a good start,” Matías said, fully suited up in the jump seat next to Claire. “You’re leaping out of a plane.”
She let out a little cry. Esmeralda looked over, concerned, but Claire pasted on a smile and waved her away.
Then Claire turned toward Matías. He looked nearly solid—barely blurred edges, colors bright, his eyes that beautiful, molten gold she loved. She let her hair block her face so it wouldn’t look like she was having a conversation with herself. The wind whipping through the plane obscured the sound of her voice.
“Matías, you’re here!”
“I said I would be, didn’t I? Whether you decided to come or not?”
Tears prickled Claire’s eyes. He always kept his promises.Luis had said the same of him, and it was one of the things Claire loved most about Matías. “I am so sorry about the fight in my hotel room,” she said. “You were just trying to help, and I shut you down viciously.”
“I’m sorry, too,” he said. “Your career is important to you. I shouldn’t have suggested you could simply walk away from your life’s work. I would have reacted the same way to someone telling me to quit painting.”
“You were only giving advice.”
“I really like how dedicated you are to your career.”
