Freedom

Lexi stood up for the first time in an hour as she extended her hand, prompting me to take it.

“Well, I guess this is it,” Lexi said as she grabbed my hand to help me off the ground.

I nodded while looking at her face, searching for any sign of emotion that she held.

Does she want to stay, too?

After she pulled me up, neither of us loosened our grips. My lips quivered slightly as I removed my hand from hers, eliciting a shocked expression on her face. Immediately after letting go, I pulled her into a tight hug and wrapped my arms around her. Lexi tensed for a minute before realizing what was happening. She then relaxed into my arms as she squeezed back tightly.

“Thank you for everything.”

“No. Thank you.”

“You know how earlier you said if I wanted a picture, all I had to do was ask? Well, can I have a picture now?”

“So long as you delete that other one you took,” Lexi smiled.

“Deal,” I agreed. We shifted closer together so that we fit into the frame as I snapped a quick picture. “I”m gonna get this framed so I can sleep with it at night,” I chuckled while glancing down at my phone.

“That”s nothing like the real thing, I hope you know…”

Lifting an eyebrow, I teased, “Well, we can do a test to compare…”

Lexi bit her lip as she pulled out her phone suddenly, then asked, “What”s your Instagram?”

“Autumnisfalling,” I replied while leaning down to pick up my bag.

“HA! That”s a good one.” She rolled her eyes while typing away on her phone. A few seconds later, my phone dinged, signaling a new notification. I gazed at my screen with a slack jaw as I read the new alert.

LHarlow is now following you on Instagram.

“Just in case you ever need to talk to someone,” she smiled. “I mean, I know we aren’t trapped together, so we aren’t forced to talk to each other anymore, but that doesn’t mean we have to lose touch.”

A muffled voice from beyond the door became clearer and was followed by the sound of squeaking hinges. The door had flung open, freeing us from the prison we were once in—only it never felt like a prison to me.

“Lexi, are you okay?” A large man asked frantically. Another tall man quickly approached us as the two of them stood side by side.

“Brian, for the thousandth time, I’m fine,” Lexi groaned.

“Okay, let”s get you out of here,” Brian stated while glancing in my direction. “We have a plane to get on. We can get a medic to check you out while we are onboard.”

“Just a second,” she waved her hands dismissively at him. She then turned back in my direction, smiled slightly, and said, “Go catch your flight. You have a funeral to get to.”

I grabbed my bag off the floor and nodded. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Goodbye, Autumn.”

“Goodbye, Lexi.”

We stared at each other briefly before exiting the bathroom, then we both went our separate ways. Entering the main lobby of the airport, everything somehow felt so different. The crowded room was still bustling as people ran around talking on their phones while rushing to catch their flights. No one paid any mind to the scattered debris or the firefighters who were still clearing away the fallen support beam. To everyone else, it was just a normal day—minus the earthquake. Everyone else had no idea that just minutes ago, there were two people stuck behind those doors, just trying to escape from reality.

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a loud barrage of yells.

“There she is!”

“It’s Lexi Harlow!”

“No, way!”

“Can I get an autograph?”

I laughed silently to myself. Pressing the lock button on my phone for what felt like the hundredth time that day, I checked the time.

10:46 a.m.

Shit.

All the figures rushing past me caused my head to spin as I whipped my head in several different directions, trying to figure out which way my gate was. I haphazardly rummaged through my bag and grabbed my plane ticket. Flight 343A to San Diego, California. My eyes skimmed over the piece of paper before they landed on what I was searching for. Gate 21. I looked up and saw that I was currently standing in front of gate 18. Breaking out into a quick jog, I started in the direction of my flight past 19, then 20, and finally, I arrived at gate 21. My shoes padded against the carpeted floor. The outline of the two women standing at the desk became clearer as I saw one reach out for the door and begin to close it. My slow jog turned into a full-blown sprint.

Shit…again.

“Wait!” I yelled. The lady swung the door closed as she turned back to face me. I slammed my hands unintentionally on the desk that was now in front of me as I heaved, trying to catch my breath. “Wait, please! I need to get on that flight!” I cried while glancing at the plane through the large window behind her.

Within the time I had been trapped in the bathroom, the rain had stopped, leaving behind a gloomy trace of its existence as the clouds hung low in the sky.

The lady who stood by the door apologized with a look of sorrow on her face. “Sorry, boarding is closed.”

“Please, it can”t be too late,” I begged.

“You can try and get a ticket for the next flight, but I”m sorry we can”t open the door back up,” the other lady apologized.

I got exactly what I had wanted when I first walked into the airport. I missed my flight. Little did I know how much my sentiments would change within the span of an hour.

“Do you know when the next flight to San Diego is?” I asked, squeezing my eyes shut tightly.

“Unfortunately, there have been a lot of delays due to the earthquake. It”s lucky this flight was even able to take off on time.”

Yeah, lucky.

“The normal schedule has changed, but you can check the departure board or head over to the ticket counter to see when the next flight leaves.”

Nodding, I gave them both a sad smile in an attempt to show some semblance of appreciation. I felt a tear make its way down my cheek as I plopped down in one of the nearby seats and took out my phone. There were multiple unread text messages from my mom, but I couldn’t find the courage to open them, so I walked over to the departure board to see when the next plane from New York to San Diego would be. Of course, the next flight wasn’t for another four hours—much too late to make it on time to the funeral. Maybe if I had just left a few days earlier, like my mom suggested…but then I never would’ve met Lexi, meaning I probably would’ve decided to skip the funeral altogether.

Is this really how the story ends?

I fumbled with my phone, trying to determine the best way to break the news to my mom. She was going to be so angry at me. I couldn’t bear the thought of telling her that I wouldn’t be there, but the only other alternative was to say nothing and have her wait six hours, only to be disappointed when I didn”t show up. There was no winning. Either way, I lost. Sitting down, I rested my head in my hands as I sulked in defeat.

Just as I was about to give up hope, a voice called from in front of me.