6. Macy

Chapter 6

Macy

I f I go the rest of my life never seeing those blue glaciers, I'll consider myself lucky. To hell with him and his annoyingly accurate assumptions about my relationship. I despise his extrospection. Am I really that open of a book?

I haul my suitcase into the elevator, glancing down and realizing I'm still wearing my pajamas.

I'm mortified when I'm spit out into the lobby and four sets of rich eyes pin on me. I didn't even have the chance to glance in the mirror today. I tuck myself away in the public bathroom to comb through my hair and brush my teeth.

I step into a pair of jeans and leave on the T-shirt I'm wearing. I zip a jacket over myself since it's going to be chilly outside, and I have no idea how to hail a cab. I might be standing out there for a while.

I roll my shoulders and walk out of the bathroom, passing the other people in the lobby who I give a curt nod to.

I'm finally on a flight to freedom.

The attendants go over their safety demonstration while I put my phone on airplane mode. As I click the little airplane icon, I picture the next three hours of peace, with no way of Walter contacting me.

I put headphones on and rest my temple against the glass window. The plane begins to roll forward and my heart picks up with the anticipation of taking off. I shut my eyes as the world seems to speed up. I'm pulled into the seat, feeling heavy for a split second when we lift off the ground. My eyes open at the sensation, and the world shrinks all too quickly until the view of New York City looks fake. The autumn trees are beautiful from above. The music amplifies this moment, fueling that fire in the pit of my stomach that makes my heart say type, type, type.

I open my laptop once we reach a safe distance in the sky to do so. I let words flow through my fingertips, not even bothering to check my spelling. It's rare that passion ignites like this. I never know what I'm going to write when it happens, I just know that when I open a blank word document, the possibilities of what will go on the page are endless.

I forget about my own life as I become someone else entirely. I embody a man with a lifetime of love that came and went all too quickly. I squeeze my wife's fragile hand that has no strength left. The hand I pressed my lips to on our first date, when we had our entire future ahead of us.

Now, her fingers are so thin it's as if there were only paper covering bone. So tiny that her wedding ring would clatter to the ground if I tried to put it on her. The story of us, that was constantly unfolding, has reached its end. Just like that. There's nothing left after this. I know it all from beginning to end.

I bring my lips to the pale skin above her brow, my tears wetting her sleeping face. I cling to her hand like I can will life back into her. Like I can keep her here with me a little longer if only I could hold on tighter. The steady beeping of a machine goes completely flat, with one solid line that never seems to end.

"Are you okay, dear?" A hand touches my shoulder. I wipe away the tears I hadn't realized were rolling down my face.

I turn to the woman sitting beside me, coming back into reality. "Yes. Just writing something sad." I want to smile at that. At the beauty and the pain. At the endless possibilies only twenty-six letters can bring. I can evoke a rainbow of emotions from my readers with those letters. It's brilliant, and I wish someone in my life could see it as that. I wish I could tell my fiancé the things that drown me in passion. I wish I could see pride lighting up those dull eyes for once.

I wish my mom would read a chapter of my book and call me immediately before beginning the next one, just so she can tell me how much she loved a quote or how a certain line made her want to toss the book across the room.

I wish my dad would think of my career and life's purpose as more than a hobby. I wish he could see the layers that make up the stories I write, but most importantly, see me.

I wish the town I grew up in referred to me as more than "Mr. and Mrs. Brookes' daughter" or "Walter's fiancé."

No one in my real life bothers to know me. But Grayson, a man I'll never see again, strangely seemed to care.