Thursday morning was spent having breakfast with Clay and Tommy. They told him together that she would be moving to New York…to dance. He didn’t understand entirely, and his little heart hurt, but they got through it.
Clay made a deal with him that they would make a trip to New York to visit and see Heather’s show. It appeased him in the moment, but both Clay and Heather knew the likelihood of the trip was slim to none. Once the initial ache of being separated wore, and new routines were established, staying in touch would slowly fade. That’s just how these things worked.
The morning escaped them and it was early afternoon before she knew it. There was packing to do and she was expecting a package delivery. The production was sending a messenger with her airline ticket, production scripts and music, along with instruction on where to pick up the key to her new apartment, once she got there. She couldn’t miss the messenger.
For now, she was packing clothes, a few sentimental items, and the essentials. Sara and Trey had offered to pack up the rest of her belongings and ship them the following week. Not even they had asked her stay. Surely another sign that she was supposed to leave, pursue her dance career and live her New York dream.
She almost believed her own bullshit. Truth was, if she did miss the messenger, and never made it to New York…she wouldn’t lose much sleep over it. It was a hard decision to make, and had Clay asked her to stay, she probably would have. It would have been easier. But he didn’t, so she was leaving.
Spending her last night in her quaint little loft apartment, in small town USA, Heather laid wide awake, despite her early morning and long flight the next day. She was only hours from living her dream, in the city she loved, and making a name for herself. What she couldn’t get over was the heavy feeling in her chest. She was about to embark on the greatest journey yet, so why did it feel so bad?
***
Footsteps on the outside steps leading to Heather’s apartment alerted her to Sara’s early morning arrival. It was time to go. Heather had been up for hours already, not really falling asleep at all the night before, and when she did, it was restless and fitful.
“You ready to go, kid?” Sara asked, after letting herself in.
Heather let out a deep sigh, and plastered on a faux smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Grabbing her suitcase and oversized purse that doubled as her carry on, she took one more look around the open space, and headed for the door. “Let’s go.”
With last minute travel arrangements across the country, it was near impossible to get a flight out of nearby Sonoma, leaving Sara and Heather with scenic hours of driving to the nearest large airport, in San Francisco. Leaving St. Helena left Heather with a dull ache in her chest, one she hadn’t expected. The further they ventured through wine country, and distanced themselves from their small quaint town, the sharper that ache became.
“You ready? Got everything you need to get by? Trey said your stuff should arrive in just over a week,” Sara said, breaking the silence.
Startled from her thoughts, Heather responded with as much optimism as she could muster, “Oh, uh, yeah. I don’t really need much, I’ll be getting right to work, and putting in long hours for a while. Won’t be home but to sleep.” She chuckled, hoping it passed off as excitement.
“So, how did Clay take it? Where did you guys leave things?”
“Um, we didn’t really leave it as anything. I mean we weren’t even together really so not really a loose end to tie. He and Tommy will come to New York, maybe around Christmas, to visit and see the show. It’ll be nice to see them.”
Sara guffawed at the nonchalant, informal, take on the situation. “Nice to see them? C’mon sis, you’re talking to me, here…I’m not buying it. What’s really going on?”
Leave it to her sister to draw out the tears. Heather didn’t even fight them this time; she just let them flow, and poured out her heart.
“I don’t know. That’s the honest truth, I don’t know what’s really going on. This is my dream, right? Or at least some modified version of it. I may not be performing, but I’m still a major player in this, maybe even more so than as a performer. So why does it hurt so bad? Why am I hung up on this fling, hoping I made the right choice?” She paused, took a deep breath and asked the real question that was haunting her, “Why didn’t Clay ask me to stay?”
“Oh honey. I think he wants whatever decision you make to be entirely yours. Think about it. If you weren’t entirely sure and stayed because he asked…you would always wonder what could have been, right?”
“Probably…”
“Clay doesn’t want to be the source or cause of that wonder. Honey, he loves you, it’s obvious. He just wants you happy, even if it means he’s not. Eventually, you’ll realize you love him too. Maybe you aren’t ready and just need to try this first.”
“And what if I get there and it’s not what I want anymore?”
“Then you know where to find us!”
“I hope I made the right choice…”
Sara glanced her sister’s way and said, “Dreams change honey…maybe yours just isn’t in New York anymore.”
***
San Francisco was always busy, despite the hour, the airport more so. With airport security what it was, and not being allowed past a specific security point without a ticket, Sara dropped her sister off in front of the airport where they said their goodbyes. Heather was to call, as soon as she made it to New York, letting her know she made it safely. Tears were shed, hugs had, and promises to talk on the phone weekly, text daily, and see each other at some point over the holiday season.
With baggage checked, and more than an hour until her flight, Heather sat in the coffee shop nearest her departure gate, alone with her thoughts due to a delayed flight. That was until a familiar face sat at her table, across from her…Angelo Moretti.
“Why the long face, kid?” he said in his typical crusty tone.
“I’m leaving, headed back to New York,” she replied in between sips of her coffee.
“So what? I asked why the long face, not where ya headed.” Classic Moretti edge and straight to the point.
“Oh, um…I don’t know. I’m just not excited to leave St. Helena. Not sure if dance and New York is for me anymore.”
“Pffft. Then why are ya goin? I don’t see a gun to your head? If St. Helena is where you want to be, then be in St. Helena. Seems simple to me.”
It really did seem simple when he put it like that, but why couldn’t she adopt that thinking? What was she chasing, better yet, what was she afraid of.
“I guess it’s just not as simple as it seems…or should be. I had a life in New York too. What if that is where I am supposed to be?”
“The way I heard it, little lady, was that you were dumped by your life in New York. Is there really something there waiting for ya? Or is this more about the pride you young ones carry around like a badge. I don’t get your generation one bit.”
“Pride? No…not that at all, Mr. Moretti.”
“Then what? Why are you running away, back to a place that already kicked you out, kid?”
His words were harsh, classic Moretti, but provoked her own questioning inner monologue, “I just don’t know.”
“Ah, you do. You know why. Just too stubborn to see it. You’ll figure it out though, and feel foolish when you do. Wish I was going to be there to say I told ya so.” He looked at his watch, then stood from the table. “My shipment should be offloaded soon so I better get back. My ingredients for the gelato arrive today from Italia.”
“You fly in ingredients from Italy?”
“You young people, you just don’t understand. Of course I do. Why do you think it tastes as it does?”
She shrugged her shoulders, and giggled at his offense. Truth be told, she liked Mr. Moretti and his abrasive honesty. She would remember him fondly.
As he wandered out of sight, her gate was called for boarding…her plane was there.