Page 74 of A Me and You Thing
When the taxi drops me off at the airport, I feel like Maria inThe Sound of Musicas she danced with her arms wide open on the hillside. I try to rein in my happiness. But it refuses to be reined.
I make my way to the travel agency booths and sit down with an agent. I figure they’re more discreet and can book me all the way through to my final destination. I tell her I’d like the earliest flight to Portland, Oregon. Then I’d like to book a van to take me all the way to Newport, Oregon. The cost of the trip takes three of my traveler’s checks. I only have one left. The travel agent hands me a small packet of tickets and gives me a few instructions.
It’s as easy as that. I worried over nothing. I believe the hardest part is behind me. But I won’t breathe easy until I’m on the plane and in the air.
My palms are sweaty, my heart is still racing, but I did it. I can hardly believe it. If I wasn’t so nervous, I’d say it was almost too easy. My lack of memories was holding me in my prison—and probably nothing else. An enlightening thought.
Once I go through security, I grab a small bite to eat. My stomach rebels, so I take it easy. I don’t have a lot of cash left, but enough to see me through the rest of the trip. That’s all I need. The flight doesn’t leave until two PM, and I have two layovers. It’s the best I could do. At this rate, I won’t arrive in the States until tomorrow.
But I will arrive. That’s all that matters.
So, that’s it. I’m going home. There are those delicious words again. I don’t think the reality of the situation has sunk in quite yet.I’m actually going home.
To Sawyer. To Josie. To Jordyn.
My home, the place I love more than any other place in the world. It’s so scenic, just looking outside the window is therapy for my soul. Of course, it’s not so much the structure or the surroundings as it is the people who dwell inside. Without the people, it’s just four walls and a roof. Nothing special.
My baby girls are nearing their third birthdays. I don’t even know what they look like. My arms ache to hold them, my lips want nothing more than to cover their little faces with kisses. My heart is dying to participate in a two-and-a-half-year-old conversation with them. My eyes will be in heaven if they can simply rest upon them. My soul will be at peace when I can watch them sleep. I long for them so much it hurts. I’ve missed their babyhood, and it kills me.
I resist the urge to fall down on the floor and burst into tears. Another crying bout is imminent, but it can wait until I’ve reached the shelter of home.
THE STEWARDESS HANDS me a package of pretzels. I take it as though it’s manna from heaven. I let the first one rest on my tongue, absorbing the salty flavor.
I sip my ginger ale slowly, letting the carbonation settle my churning stomach.
My reaction to pretzels and soda reminds me that I’ve been living a life filled with deficiencies. Deficient food. Deficient shelter. Deficient clothing. Just deficient. Every form of it. From warmth and comfort to security and ease.
I’ve become accustomed to the pangs in my stomach. I cooked the meals forTíaandTíoand the employees they watched over, but there was never enough to go around and the servings were small.
I close my eyes and breathe slow and easy. I did it. I escaped that life. Why am I still so tense?
I know why. My thoughts have already turned elsewhere, bringing on a whole new set of worries. On one hand, excitement is bubbling through me. On the other hand, I wonder what I’ll find at home. So many questions are spiraling around in my brain. Did Sawyer sell our home? Is he still in Newport? Did he give away my belongings? Did he attempt to erase any trace of my existence, finding it too painful? Has he given up on me? Does he believe I’m dead? Or does his heart somehow feel my presence sharing the same plane of existence as him? Has he been holding onto hope that I’m still alive? Has he been searching for me?
I’m thinking in circles. There are no answers to my questions.
I begin to wonder if I should call him once I land in Portland. I long to hear his voice. I’d love to steal away to our cabin as we’d planned to do after my trip. I need his arms around me, I need to feel his comfort, his love embracing me and encircling me. I need his lips on mine. I need the bond that making love grants us. I miss our physical connection as much as our mental one.
I can’t begin to imagine how stunned a phone call will make him feel. The more I think about it, the more I realize I don’t want him to drive to Portland to pick me up, not when he’s filled with shock over the news that I’m alive. He won’t drive safely. I know him. He’ll speed like crazy as he rushes to get to me. I’m not okay with my story turning out like Romeo and Juliet’s. One dead and one alive, then the other dead and the other one’s alive. Such a tragic ending.
No, thank you.
I have a van to take me to Newport. I think I’ll stick with my itinerary.
Just how do you break this kind of news anyway? I picture myself walking down the street saying,Hello, I’m alive, and people fainting as I walk by.
I don’t know how to do this. The precedent has never been set.
I’m about to show up on Sawyer’s doorstep with no warning whatsoever. As far as surprising news goes, this one is a gut punch. At least it’s happy news.
Isn’t it? Of course it is.
I can’t lessen the blow. It’s just not possible. Even though it’s good news, it won’t take away the utter shock to his system.
But... what if Sawyer has moved on? There’s a possibility I’m about to complicate his life in a huge way. I run my hands over my face as jealousy boils in my blood.
Do I have a happy ending waiting for me or am I walking straight into the arms of heartbreak? My anxiety is worse than when I was escaping fromTíaandTío.I thought escaping was the hard part. Maybe I’m about to face the hardest part of all.
What if he has remarried? The thought hits me, and I shudder. I hope fate hasn’t been that cruel. Going home to find out that I’ve lost him will kill me in a way the bus accident never could.
