loved.
Jason pops the last bite of the second pastry into his mouth, and then licks his fingers. “Tell her she can bring these over to my place while you’re gone.”
I laugh. “I’ll do that. Although be prepared, her pastries may be sweet but her judgment can be harsh,” I say, then notice Gabe standing in the doorway of our room.
“Be nice,” he mouths at me, eyes teasing. I smile and tilt my head, gesturing to him it’s okay to come back out.
Jason shrugs. “I’m good with the tough ones. Along with handsome I’m also often referred to as charming.”
Gabe laughs, and Connor snorts. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
“That you are,” I say to Jason. “Plus, if you eat a plate of her pastries in one sitting I’m sure you’ll be in her good books forever.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” Gabe says, coming into the kitchen as I hand Jason a takeout container.
“Take them all,” I say, when he starts to close the lid, two pastries still on the plate.
“Are you sure? You are looking a little skinny.”
Gabe looks at me then. I’m swimming in the legging jeans I used to have to lie down to zip up, and I know what he’s thinking. Skinny isn’t good. Skinny equals sad.
“I prefer svelte, thank you very much,” I say as much to Gabe as Jason. “Seriously, take them. And to answer your question, the plane leaves in about six hours.”
Jason kisses me on the cheek, leaving a hint of stickiness behind. “You’re the best, love ya.”
“Love you, too.” I hug him again. Then I hug Connor, who holds my face in his hands and kisses me on the forehead. The way my dad does. “Be good, you two,” I say.
“Ditto,” Connor says.
Jason salutes with his free hand. “Always am,” he says with a smile that suggests otherwise.
Gabe says his goodbyes, promising my brothers he’ll take great care of me like always, then heads off to take a shower.
I walk Connor and Jason to the front door, holding it open for them with my foot. “Come back in one piece, okay?” Connor says with worried eyes. My mother’s eyes.
“Of course,” I say, standing in the open front door as my brothers make their way to the stairwell.
Jason turns before heading down the stairs after Connor and holds up the takeout container. “Seriously, tell Rosa I’m available if she needs me to eat stuff while you’re gone.”
“I will.” I wave and start to shut the door.
“Tegan!” Jason calls out.
I poke my head back into the hall. “Yeah?”
“Have fun, kiddo.”
“That’s the plan,” I reply with as much enthusiasm as I can.
We wave at each other and I shut the door. For the hundredth time since booking the tickets, I try to convince myself I’m ready for this.
An hour later I share a tearful goodbye with Anna, complete with a bag of my favorite treat, caramel cheese popcorn, from Garrett Popcorn. The first, and only, time I convinced her to try the sweet and cheesy concoction she gagged so hard she vomited on the sidewalk outside the shop, which only proves how much she loves me. She also gives me a book for the plane she promises won’t make me cry, with an inscription of one of her grandmother’s famous proverbs on the inside cover—a book is like a garden carried in the pocket—which neither of us really get but pretend to be inspired by. After she’s gone, I change into my travel clothes of black yoga pants, a hoodie and tennis shoes, and sit on the couch. The airport limousine should be arriving in fifteen minutes, and my stomach feels sour. Maybe from the popcorn. Probably from everything else.
“What’s up, buttercup?” Gabe asks when I let out a deep sigh, scanning the tickets in front of me. The destinations are in the order we pulled them out of the jar.
“Is this a mistake? I’m not sure about the order.” I frown, flipping through the three itineraries. My fingertips leave faint neon-orange popcorn dust smudges on the papers.
“The order’s fine. You’re just nervous.”
“Of course I’m nervous,” I say, frustrated to have to admit it. “This feels fast. I don’t know if I’m ready.” I hold my fingers against the pendant, and it presses into my bony sternum. “I don’t know if this is going to work. I don’t know if—” My voice breaks as a sob catches in my throat. I take a deep breath before going on. “This is going to sound crazy, but maybe I don’t want to get over it.” I’m relieved to finally say it out loud. “Do I really want to feel better? To move on? Because...because...” I stop, gasping against my sorrow.
“Because you’re afraid you’ll forget?” Gabe’s voice is soft, understanding.
I nod, sucking in air. “What if I forget how much I loved...how much I love—”
“You won’t,” Gabe says, interrupting me. Determination floods his voice. “I won’t let you.”
I breathe out through pursed lips and focus on his words. “Thank you.” I rest my head back against the cushioned couch and close my eyes. “I love you, Gabe.”
It’s the first time in four months I’ve said those words.
Thailand
Almost twenty-four hours after leaving Chicago, with a short layover in Frankfurt—from which I was still trying to get the stench of cigarette smoke out of my hair—our plane is minutes away from touching down on the runway at Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport. I keep my eyes shut, enjoying the few moments that exist between dead sleep and consciousness. Despite my exhaustion and having spent two days on airplanes with nothing to do but sit and wait for time to pass, sleep has been hard to come by. Especially because of Gloria, our seatmate on the left.
She introduced herself in the airport’s bathroom mirror while I brushed my teeth before takeoff, and as luck would have it, she ended up right beside me for the entire flight. She’s a single mom, late forties, with a generous smile and a wild mop of red hair that consistently reaches beyond her seat and into my face. She works for some travel company in Chicago I’ve never heard of, and is on her way to a conference in Bangkok.
I try to be polite, listening to stories and looking at pictures of her son, who has just been accepted to college, and her cat, that she’s incredibly stressed about leaving behind, seemingly more so than her son. Gabe chuckles in my other ear, because this is what always happens.
I’m
