“Then, wait for her.” His words take me by surprise, as does the way he’s pointing to my arm. “That tattoo you have on your arm, the one your mother hates, it means more now than it did when you got it. Let her fly back to you, but this time, let it be on purpose. And when she does, you’ll figure it out.”
“You sound so sure she’ll be back.”
“Hummingbirds always return to the sweetest nectar,” he states with a smile.
“I am pretty sweet,” I tease, knowing though that it will be extremely difficult for me to just sit here and wait. “What if she doesn’t return?”
“Then, she doesn’t.” His words are like ice to my heart. “But if she does, you take it one day at a time. Live in the now, not the past. You can’t go from nothing to everything and just walk away like that. If you do, then it was all for naught. That’s not the type of son I raised. The son I raised doesn’t give up on love.”
19
Jolene
After I run through all the preflight checks, I take my place in the jump seat, which is beyond uncomfortable and ramrod straight on my back. We have a packed flight, so the trip to London is going to be a long one with this being my only place to sit. Some of the girls and I take turns sitting on the containers that carry the food once we’ve served it, but other than that, my feet are going to ache when this is all done.
Since schedules were already drawn, I had to beg one of my friends for this flight. She knew it was a shitty assignment with a quick turnaround, so it honestly didn’t take that much arm-twisting. I was desperate to get back in the air and forget about the past week.
As I take in my surroundings, I smile, knowing even though my back hurts and the small fold-down seat is hard to sit on, it’s where I feel free, and here, I’m never alone.
The flight has its usual ups and downs of needy passengers to crying kids, but thankfully, most people sleep through the red-eye flight. After we feed everyone breakfast, I notice a few kids who are starting to get antsy. As I grab the tin foil to head their way, something hits me deep in my gut, and my feet halt. The last time I made one of these was for Luke. He thought my silly trick was awesome. He had this infectious smile on his face, and …
I put the foil back in the drawer. Instead, I grab the coloring books and crayons from my bag and offer it to the very thankful parents hoping it helps keep them calm for the remainder of our time here.
As we exit the flight, I see Paul—yes, Paul the pilot who slept with my coworker after our date—walking through the terminal. That cocky smile of his greets me as I approach.
“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise? Looks like fate brought us together when you wouldn’t return my phone calls last time we were in the same time zone as one another.”
I laugh under my breath. Fate. Ha! Fate and I are not friends right now, and this little encounter proves it.
I pass right by him. “I didn’t return them for a reason, Paul. Have a nice life.”
He jogs after me. “Come on, Jolene. We had good times with very promising things to come. Why don’t we finish what we started?”
I stop and turn to him. “I seem to remember you having good times with someone else.”
He shakes his head with a slight grin as he tries to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. I push his hand away.
“Babe, you know how it is. You’ve been flying for long enough now. Nothing’s ever serious when you live like we do. You just need to find someone who will help you pass the time until you’re up in the air again. Enjoy the little escape from reality that we get to live every day.”
My stomach turns with every word because he truly believes what he’s saying. Thank God I never had sex with him. To me, he was more than someone to pass the time. I was taking it slow, wondering if I’d finally found someone who got me and my lifestyle. And to think back now, I see how stupid I was.
I shake my head, closing my eyes, trying to rid myself of the times we spent together before I found out he’d fucked another flight attendant on a turn to Florida in the airport restroom.
“Then, why did you even try to seem like we were dating?”
“I liked the whole cat-and-mouse game we had going. I noticed we were in the same spots a lot, so I was hoping it would be a regular thing.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “You know, sometimes, it’s just easier to know who you’ll fuck when you get to your destination, so you don’t have to go searching when you’re already exhausted.”
My eyes go wide, and I swear, if I wasn’t in my uniform, standing in the middle of Heathrow Airport, I’d slap him right now. It takes everything I can muster up to turn and walk away, willing myself not to lose my shit on him. He gives a pathetic call after me but doesn’t follow. Thank goodness, and good riddance!
The entire ride to the hotel, I’m fuming. How could I have been so stupid?
Once I get to my room, I go through my same rituals I do when I enter every one. I place the remote control in the ziplock baggie I brought to save me from whatever germs linger on it. I strip the sheets of the comforter and grab the blanket I asked housekeeping to bring up.
When you’ve been in as many hotel rooms as I have, you start to truly see just how unclean they are, and if there’s one thing that never gets washed, it’s the bedspread. Most hotel policies say that if it leaves the room, it needs to be washed, so that’s why I always request a new one.
After placing my own toilet paper roll on the holder, I glance in the mirror. I’ve done this a thousand times before, but something isn’t sitting right with me now. Paul’s words ring in my head.
“Nothing’s ever serious when you live like we do.”
I step out of the bathroom and take in my surroundings. I must have stayed in this hotel a hundred times. I know which channel will bring me the shows I want to watch and where the nearest Starbucks is without even having to pull it up on my phone. I keep euros in my purse at all times. Hell, sometimes, I have more euros than I do American cash.
My suitcase catches my attention. The sides are starting to get worn out, and one of the wheels has been giving me trouble. I walk to it and open it up, searching inside. I pull out everything in there, one by one, shaking the pieces of clothing out as I lay them across the now-bare bed.
I can’t remember the last time I fully went through my bag. I never really unpack. I’ve lived out of this suitcase for the last ten years, and as I dig, I find things tucked in corners that I completely forgot about. The necklace that I swore I’d left in Spain is found beneath the zipper pocket, and a museum stub from when I went to the Louvre for the first time is at the bottom of the front pocket. Underneath my clothes is a snap that leads to a secret compartment where I keep extra cash in case I lose my wallet. In here are a few pictures and mementos that people have handed me along the way. A Polaroid of me jumping off a cliff in Mallorca, another of me riding an elephant in Thailand. Oh, and here’s another of when I walked the Great Wall of China. Most of my photos are on my iCloud, but to get an actual photograph is really special.
They’re the kind of pictures you’d frame and put in your home.
When everything is out and laid flat around me, I plop down on the bed.