35. Clarissa

I still haveflutters in my stomach when I think about what I did. I shake my hands and slow down my pace from a jog to a fast walk. I almost didn’t make it to my gate, and I have sweat dripping down my back to prove it. I smile at the staff as I step onto the plane and make my way to the back. My delusion hasn’t fully set in, so the thought of What the hell are you doing? as I stuff my bag in the overhead and scoot to my window seat lingers.

I did it. I actually did it. I quit my job.

Honestly, it’s not a rational decision. My savings aren’t huge, and my parents have their own expenses with my dad being retired and his medical issues. But it was like I had fire seeping into my bones. I couldn’t be still. I couldn’t stay there. So I walked into my boss’s office and put in my notice. I say notice, but it was more like, “You have one day before I’m gone.”

They did what businesses tend to do, promise more money and flexibility, but I’d made up my mind. I just didn’t want to be there anymore. When I told Rissa what I’d done, she tried her best to be supportive, but I could hear the hesitation. She offered to employ me with assistant duties until I find something else, and I’m grateful. She really is my best friend, and I would be lost without her. I don’t think the decision has hit me because as I sit here on a plane headed to London, I lean back. Am I really doing this?

I am.

She stayed up late with me and even let me use her points to get a plane ticket and secure my hotel. She said I didn’t need to worry about paying her back since she travels all the time and her boutique is doing well, but I will pay her back. I shake my hands and close my eyes, feeling a swirl of emotions. On the one hand, I wish I wasn’t alone and there was someone to fly with me across the world. But on the other, there’s something pushing me to see this through alone. To feel the discomfort of trying something new by myself.

Rissa had too many appointments set up to come with me, but I promised to keep her updated throughout my trip. My phone buzzes, and I quietly answer it.

“Hello.”

“Hey, did you get a surprise?” she asks with a tone that’s almost light.

“Uh, no, like what?”

“Nothing unexpected showed up?” she asks again, and I narrow my eyes.

“Girl, what are you talking about?”

“Never mind. Call me when you land, and please be careful.”

“I will. I plan on sleeping the entire flight.”

“Love you, Lis.”

“Love you too.”

I end the call and see the last text from Tyson.

Tyson: I miss you.

Tyson: Please say something.

Tyson: How’s your morning? I miss seeing your face.

I must have missed it initially. It looks like he sent it a few hours ago. I hover over the keyboard before I start typing.

Me: Not bad. How have you been?

Me: I miss you, too.

I press send before I can think better of it and wait. After ten minutes of no response, I put on my headphones and start my travel playlist. It’s all heavy drums and relaxed vibes. Maybe when I get back, I can finally stop avoiding Tyson and have a conversation. I think I’m ready.

I look from my phone to the street and then back, trying to find my location.

“Excuse me. Excuse me, can you tell me if you know where this is?” I say, pushing my phone toward a woman who looks like she knows the area. I don’t know that for sure, but there’s something about the way she walks with purpose.

“Oh, this is on the other side of town, love,” she says with a thick accent before she hands the phone back and walks off.

Shit!

The first thing I did when my plane landed was check in at my hotel. Rissa helped me book it, so it’s nicer than I otherwise would have had.

I watch as she continues disappearing into a frenzy of people along the busy street.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Discomfort, this was the plan. You did something you’ve never done. Just breathe. I repeat these words in a loop until my jitters are released.

“Excuse me. Excuse me, can you tell me how to get here?” I ask a new stranger.

“Sure, let’s see. You’re going to need a taxi. This isn’t close,” she says, handing me back my phone.

She must sense my panic because she lingers and looks back. “Here, I can help you get a taxi.”

“Thank you,” I say, jogging to keep up with her.

Once I get the taxi, I thank her again and am off to my location.

The first thing I notice when I walk in is the smell. The air is rich and heavenly, thick with spices. I take a deep breath.

“Welcome to Mrs. Sue’s Chinese Cuisine. Please have a seat anywhere. Be right with you,” a short Asian woman says. Her gray hair is piled on top of her head, and her wrinkles deeply cut into her skin.

I smile before I speak. “Thank you.”

I find a seat off to the side next to the window. There’s not a ton of foot traffic, but enough to keep me occupied as I wait.

My phone dings, and it’s a text message.

Tyson: Fuck, Issa, I’m so happy to hear from you.

Me: I know. I just had things I needed to resolve.

Tyson: I get that, but I missed you so fucking much.

Me: I’m sorry.

My waitress comes over, and her accent is thick as she pulls out a pad to take my order. I put down my phone to see the options. I choose everything I can remember Tyson ever talking about: the egg rolls, the dumplings, the sweet and sour soup, and a few entrées. She looks at me with narrowed eyes, and I know she’s thinking how will I ever finish this food? But she doesn’t speak on it; she just nods and walks to the back kitchen.

Tyson: Don’t be. Listen, can we talk? I want to see you.

Me: I’m actually not home.

I would wait until I’m out of the country to finally respond to Tyson. I blow out a breath and close my eyes.

I’ve been trying not to feel it. To not focus on the nagging feeling that I’ve made a mistake waiting so long to talk to him. It’s just that, at the time, everything was weighing on me. Now that I’ve moved out and all the wedding stuff has been canceled, I can breathe a little easier.

The scrape of a chair dragging away from my table garners my attention, and my eyes pop open.

“Sorry, I need—” I begin to say, but stop speaking.

“Issa.”

That’s all he says, my nickname. I haven’t seen him since the night of the fight, and my eyes instantly overflow with tears.

Tell me you feel it too.

Tell me your gut twists when we’re in the same room.

He looks good; his beard is cut low, and there’s a small smile stretching his lips. The dark hue of his eyes with that focus takes my breath away. This feels like I’m in a dream.

“How are you here?” I ask, looking around the restaurant.

“I did say I wanted to see you.”

“Are you really here? How did you know where I was?”

“I might have stopped by Marissa’s place to get you to talk to me. She mentioned you were leaving the country and that this might be your first stop.”

“Seriously, Tyson, I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Where else would I be, Issa? I told you I was taking you to have the best fucking dumplings in London, and I’m pissed you left without me,” he says, staring down at me. There’s a mix of wonder and pain as he stands and waits.

“I didn’t know what to say,” I finally relent. Hey, I know I haven’t spoken to you in weeks, but can you drop everything and hop on a plane to London with me to have the best dumplings you’ve ever tasted?

He pulls the chair closer to me, and my heartbeat shifts. It goes from a slight pounding to jumping out of my chest. Somehow, I forgot how dark his eyes were as they trace my face, cataloging all my features.

The electricity of our proximity is a buzz, like a tangible substance that melts around us.

“Issa.” He pulls my hand from the table, and I melt at the warmth of his fingers wrapping around mine.

He looks at me with so much admiration that it takes my breath away. There’s an unspoken question hanging in the air.

Tell me you feel it too.

Tell me your gut twists when we’re in the same room.

I pause, focusing on our fingers before I look up. “I do feel it. I think I always felt it. I just couldn’t have you, so I ignored it.”

He grips my hand tighter while pulling me closer.

“This situation is hard. I lost my best friend. I’m not blaming you; it was my decision, but not seeing your face is like a pain I’ve never known,” he says, taking my face with both hands as he stares into my eyes. “Not hearing your laughter. I can’t be without you. I know you’re trying to pick up the pieces but let me help. I need you.”

He leans forward and grips the back of my neck. He lowers himself down, and his lips connect with mine.

Sparks fly. My insides melt, and his lips are softer than I imagined. My stomach drops as he wraps his other arm around my waist, holding me up. He deepens the kiss, and I get lost. I get lost in the feel of goosebumps erupting down my arms. I get lost in the sensation of his fingers gripping my hip and caressing my side, setting fire to the small patch of skin exposed under my shirt. He pulls back, and those eyes are obsidian stones now.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He smiles, and I fall into his chest. The thin fabric of his shirt does nothing to contain his body heat, and I’m cloaked in his warmth and sweet cologne.

I pull back after a few minutes with a smile. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Again, where else would I be?”

“I don’t know. Mad at me for never responding to your texts,” I say with my face morphing into a grimace. “Sorry.”

He nods and twists our hands so our fingers are aligned. “How could I be mad? I understand what you were going through. How’s your dad, by the way?”

I smile and lean back. “He’s doing good. They said it could have been so much worse. He still can’t work out like normal, but he’ll get there.”

“I’m so sorry, baby. I wish I could have been there to hold you when you got that news.” He leans in, hugging me, and the tears I had sitting on the rim of my eyes fall down my face.

“Why are you crying?”

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I sputter out and fall into his chest again. For the first time, I can touch his skin. I can hold him without fear.

We’re interrupted by the server dropping off all the dishes. After a few seconds, their excited chatter grows. It quickly becomes a reunion for Tyson and the staff as they talk about how they missed him and he fills them in on where he’s been. I’m still firmly tucked into his chest as he rubs my back while he speaks. When they end the conversation, he kisses my temple and whispers in my ear, “Oh, you listen well,” while still rubbing my back.

I smile up at him, and we both admire the table full of delectable dishes that smell just as good as they look. He turns to me. “Are you ready to taste the best fucking dumplings in London?”

He picks up a large dumpling with chopsticks and brings it to my mouth. Never breaking eye contact, he feeds me. I bite into the doughy layer as a burst of flavor hits my tongue.

“Oh my gosh!” I chew, and he looks down at me, smiling from ear to ear.

“Right? Here, try it with the sauce.”

The level of comfort is jarring. We fall into our rhythm of jokes and tasting food, but this time, it’s shared between kisses. It’s shared between direct eye contact and butterflies taking flight.

We sit like this in a small Chinese restaurant in London as he feeds me, one dish after the other, with our laughter filling the space.