Oh, hell.
“Sure,” says Ros, but I hear her uncertainty.
Seb has Sirius on his radio and he turns it to a jazz station. The mellow notes of Charlie Parker’s saxophone playing “All the Things You Are” fill the cab.
“All The Things You Are.”
Ana. Is she missing me?
I’m on the road with a kale-and-quinoa-eating trucker who listens to cool jazz. This is not how I expected my day to go. I give Ros a brief look. She’s sunk onto the couch and is fast asleep. I breathe a sigh of relief and close my eyes.
If I hadn’t been able to land.
Jesus. Ros’s family would have been devastated.
Both engines?
What is the likelihood?
And Charlie Tango had just had all her routine checks.
Something doesn’t add up.
The rumble of the truck goes on and on and on. Billie Holiday is singing. Her voice is soothing, like a lullaby. “You’re My Thrill.”
Charlie Tango is hurtling to the ground.
I’m pulling back on the collective.
No. No. No.
There’s a woman screaming.
Screaming.
Ana. Screaming.
No.
There’s smoke. Choking smoke.
And we’re hurtling down.
I can’t stop this.
Ana is screaming.
No. No. No.
And Charlie Tango hits the ground.
Nothing.
Black.
Silence.
Nothing.
I wake suddenly, gasping. It’s dark, except for the occasional light on the freeway. I’m in the cab.
“Hey.” It’s Seb.
“Sorry, I must have fallen asleep.”
“No problem. You two must be bushed. Your friend is still asleep.” Ros is out on the couch behind us.
“Where are we?”
“Allentown.”
“What? Great.” I peer out and we’re still on I-5, but the lights of Seattle are in the distance. Cars whiz past us. This has to be the slowest piece of transport I have ever traveled in. “Where are you heading in Seattle?”
“The docks. Pier 46.”
“Right. Could you drop us in town? We can pick up a cab.”
“No problem.”
“So have you always done this?”
“No. I’ve done a little of everything. But this truck. This one is mine and I’m working for myself.”
“Ah. An entrepreneur.”
“Exactly.”
“I do a little of that myself.”
“One day I’d like to own a fleet of these.” He slaps his hands on the wheel.
“I hope you do.”
SEB DROPS US AT Union Station.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” says Ros as we climb out of his truck.
I hand him four hundred dollars.
“I can’t take your money, Christian,” Seb says, holding up his hand and refusing the cash.
“In that case, here’s my card.” From my wallet, I give him my card. “Call me. And we can talk about the fleet you want to own.”
“Sure thing,” says Seb, without looking at my card. “Nice meeting you folks.”
“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.” And with that, I shut the door and we wave him away.
“Can you believe that guy?” Ros asks.
“Thank God he turned up. Let’s get a cab.”
IT TAKES US TWENTY minutes to get to Ros’s place, which, fortunately, is near Escala.
“Next time we go to Portland, can we take the train?”
“Sure thing.”
“You did good, Christian.”
“So did you.”
“I’ll call Andrea and let her know we’re safe.”
“Andrea?”
“She can call your family. I’m sure they’re worried. I’ll see you tomorrow at your birthday party.”
My family? They don’t worry about me. “See you then.”
She leans across and kisses my cheek. “Good night.” I’m touched. It’s the first time she’s ever done that.
I watch her walk through the courtyard of her apartment building.
“Ros!” I hear Gwen’s screech as she comes barreling out of the double doors of the entryway and scoops Ros up in her embrace.
I wave and order the cab to take me around the corner.
THERE ARE PHOTOGRAPHERS OUTSIDE of my apartment building. Something must be going on. I pay the driver, get out of the cab, and keep my head down as I walk through the front door.
“There he is!”
“Christian Grey.”
“He’s here!”
The flashes dazzle me, but I manage to get inside relatively unscathed. Surely they’re not here for me? Maybe they are, or is it someone else who’s in the building tonight that’s worthy of this kind of attention? Fortunately, the elevator is free. Once inside, I take off my shoes and socks. My feet are sore, and it’s a relief to be barefoot. I look at my shoes. I probably won’t wear them again.
Poor Ros. She’s going to have some blisters tomorrow.
I don’t imagine Ana will be home. She’s probably still at the bar. I’ll go find her once I’ve swapped the battery on my phone, changed my shirt, and maybe had a shower. I take off my jacket as the doors to the elevator open and step into the foyer.
The television is blaring from the TV room.
Odd.
I wander into the living room.
My family are all gathered here.
“Christian!” Grace shrieks, and she races toward me like a tropical storm, so I’m forced to drop my jacket and shoes in time to catch her. She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me vigorously on my cheek, and hugs me. Hard.
What the hell?
“Mom?”
“I thought I’d never see you again,” Grace rasps.
“Mom, I’m here,” I reassure her, bemused. Can’t she see I’m fine?
“I died a thousand deaths today.” Her voice cracks on the last word and she begins to sob. I hold her tighter in my arms. I’ve never seen her like this. My mom. Holding me. It feels good. “Oh, Christian,” she sobs, and she hugs me like she’ll never let me go as she weeps into my neck. Closing my eyes, I rock her gently.
“He’s alive! Shit, you’re here!” My dad comes out of Taylor’s office, followed by Taylor. Carrick barrels toward Mom and me and embraces us both.
“Dad?”
Then Mia joins us. Hugging us all.
Jesus!
A family huddle.
When did this ever happen?
Never!
Carrick pulls away first, and he’s wiping his eyes.
He’s crying?
Mia and Grace step back. “Sorry,” Grace says.
“Hey, Mom, it’s okay,” I say, uncomfortable with all this unwarranted attention.
“Where were you? What happened?” she cries, and puts her head in her hands, still weeping.
“Mom.” I pull her into my arms and kiss her head and hold her once more. “I’m here. I’m good. It’s just taken me a hell of a long time to get back from Portland. What’s with the welcoming committee?” I look up, and there she is. Wide-eyed and beautiful. Tears streaming down her face. My Ana.
“Mom, I’m good,” I tell Grace. “What’s wrong?”