Page 26 of So Wrong, It's Wright
“Good things, I hope,” he says, amusement in his voice.
“Always good things,” I say, going outside to join the queue so I can get a cab. “But you'll never guess where I am.”
“Ah, this is strange. Because I was about to say the same thing to you. Are we reading each other's minds here?”
“Maybe,” I say with a giggle. “Why? Where are you?” I stop walking and just listen. “It's really loud where you are.”
“That's because I'm walking out of Newark airport ready to get in a cab so I can come and see you.”
I almost drop my phone. “No.”
“Erm... not the reception I was expecting, tiny. I kinda thought you'd be excited. Did I do something wrong here? Have I misinterpreted what being in a relationship means?”
“No,” I say again, shaking my head as the realization of what we've done hits me.
“You keep saying that but I'm not really sure what's wrong here.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “You're in the wrong city.”
“What?” There's a pause. “You're not in New York?”
“No. I'm in Atlanta.”
“What?”
“I'm in Atlanta,” I repeat, laughter bubbling out of me as the absurdity of what we've done tips the scale from crying to laughter. What are the odds of both of us deciding to surprise each other with exactly the same thing at exactly the same time?
“You’re in Atlanta?”
“Yes,” I gasp, nodding, laughing, and crying as all the energy that was swirling beneath my skin evaporates and makes my bones heavy. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“Fuck. I wanted to surprise you too.”
“Surprise!” I say, sniffing a little as I place my hand on my face.
“Oh, fuck.”
“I know. What a mess.”
“Shit. OK. You stay there, I’m coming to you,” he says, and then I hear him saying excuse me about a hundred times as he goes against the flow of people. He gets more than his fair share of ‘watch it, buddy.’
“Right here? You want me to wait at the airport?”
“No. Not the airport. Go to my place. I’ll tell the concierge to expect you and he’ll let you into my apartment. Wait there, OK? I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’m heading to the main desk to get on the next available flight right now. Just…don’t leave before I get there, OK? I want to see you.”
ASH
When I was a kid, my mother bought me a goldfish from the pet store. We set it up in its tank with colorful rocks and one of those ornaments of a frog sitting on a log and a sign that says gone fishing sitting in the middle. All I wanted to do was watch that fish swim around its new home. But I had to wait a solid hour while the bag just floated on top of the water, equalizing the temperature so the goldfish wouldn't experience any shock when we transferred it from one environment to another. At the time, it felt like an hour lasted a year and to this day, time has never moved that slowly again. Until I was sitting and waiting for a plane to take me back to Atlanta.
Every single second felt like an hour.
A minute felt like a day.
And by the time I finally touched down in my home city, it felt like a decade had passed, and I still hadn't seen the little redhead that occupies my mind twenty-four/seven.
Pushing the door open to my apartment, I throw my keys on the entry table and dump my bag by the door. “Tahlia?”
Silence. The apartment is dimly lit by city lights through darkened windows, but I can’t even hear the faint sounds of a TV from the living room. Tahlia has either gone to bed or she’s left.Please still be here.
