Four Days Later

“FOLKS, THE FLIGHT MIGHT be a little bumpy, so we’re asking that you keep your seatbelts fastened throughout the trip. We should be arriving in in approximately three hours and ten minutes, where it is currently snowing and the temperature is thirty-two degrees. We hope you enjoy your flight with us today.”

I need wine or something. “I hate flying, even in good weather,” Brielle whines in my ear. This week has felt like three while listening to her go on about her threesome troubles, a lack of a ring, and no guaranteed wedding date. I’m looking forward to going home, getting my Cora snuggles and forgetting about everyone and everything else. “Did you shut your phone off?”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” I take my phone from the pocket of my bag and find a notification from Words With Friends on my display. Actually, there are twelve notifications with new game requests. I open the app quickly, keeping an eye on the flight attendant who’s slowly making her way down the aisle. All the requests are from Dickle15, but why twelve games?

I start with the first one, looking at the game board, finding the word,” hi.”

I click “next” for the second game board and find the word: “no.”

The next ten have either a “no, sad, mad, low, foe,” oh, and there’s a “dumb” mixed in with his two and three letter words. Then, the twelfth game has the word “sorry.” A thirteenth game request comes in, and it’s the word “love.”

Love. You can’t love someone after a week.

A message on the side pops up next:

Yes, I love you. It’s been a year, and during that time, I fell for your personality. No, I didn’t know what you looked like, but that was just the extra good part of everything.

I screwed up bad. I wasn’t thinking. I wanted to be with you, and men don’t always make the right decisions. We can’t always handle life properly, kind of like the flu. I originally got your name from a friend, who explained your situation, which, marital-wise, was like mine. After sucking at vocabulary most of my life, I was willing to take a chance. I never thought this silly game would create a friendship, as well as teaching me some words I’ll never use in real life.

Anyway, Hannah, I miss you. I’ll play another 365 days of Words With Friends with you if it means you might forgive me someday.

“Ma’am, I need you to turn your phone off now.”

“Oh okay, sorry,” I tell her.

“Told you,” Brielle adds in.

I quickly move my fingers along the keys, typing in a short message, then telling him the plane is taking off.

I shut my phone down and return it to my bag. “I made a mistake,” I tell Brielle.

“What are you talking about? People do it all the time. You just shut it off, you’re not going to get a detention or anything.” She laughs and places her headphones over her ears.

“Not that kind of mistake,” I tell her, even though she can’t hear me.

It’s taken me all week to realize some things are worth fighting for. Some things are worth forgiveness. Some things are worth seeing through to get to the other side. It’s taken me a while to figure it out, but maybe this was my lesson to learn all along.

Once the plane steadies in the air, I pay the premium fee to gain access to Wi-Fi for the duration of the flight.

I open my texts and type in Rick’s name.

Me: I’ll be home in a few hours. We need to talk, okay

Rick: Sure thing, babe.

Me: Is Cora okay?

Rick: She’s perfect.

Me: Thanks.

Rick: Do you need a ride from the airport?

Me: I have a car scheduled, but thank you for the offer.

Rick: Anytime.

I put my phone away and lean my head back into the hard cushion that’s a little high for my head, leaving my neck craned in an awkward position. I’m not going to be able to fall asleep like this, and I just want the flight to go by quickly. Instead, I place my elbow down on the armrest nearest to the aisle and rest my head on my hand.

I’m able to fall into a semi-restful place, but it seems like only a few minutes pass when I’m nearly knocked unconscious by a food cart. “Oh my goodness, I’m so, so sorry. Are you okay, ma’am?”

The flight attendant, who oddly looks like Brielle, kneels beside me and places her hand on my knee. “Can I get you some ice?”

I don’t know if I’m out of it because I was asleep, or if my head got hit that hard. “Yeah, and maybe some vodka and orange juice too.”

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” the woman says.

“Please?” I beg.

“Is that your friend?” she asks, pointing to Brielle.

“My colleague,” I reply.

The flight attendant leans over and taps Brielle on the shoulder, waking her up too. Brielle peels her headphones off her head and rubs her eyes. “Is everything okay?” she asks.

“Um, I’m afraid we just knocked your colleague’s head pretty hard with the food cart. I’m going to get her some ice, but she’s asking for vodka too.”

“I’m not her mom,” Brielle says. “Although, she’s old enough to be my mom.”

“What? No, I’m not!” I scold her. “Women can’t have babies at seven, Brielle.”

The flight attendant folds her fist over her mouth. “I’ll be right back with the vodka,” she says.

Finally, someone who understands me.

“Sorry, I guess I had the math wrong on that one,” Brielle says.

“Just a little,” I tell her, with a look that makes it clear she is never to announce that again.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“No, not really.”

“Where did it hit you?”

“It’s fine,” I tell her.

“Let me see. I’ll check for a bump.”

“Really, it’s fine.”

The flight attendant returns with an ice pack, a cup of orange juice, and a tiny shot bottle filled with vodka. “Thank you.”

“It’s on the house,” she says.

Uh, yeah, I’d say that should be a given. Not worth it.

I down the shot and lean my head back to try and sleep off the rest of the trip. The vodka does its job, and my eyes pop back open as we touch down on the runway. Thank goodness.

“I want to go back to Florida,” Brielle whines.

“Maybe you should just move there? You’re still free as a bird. Do what you want with your life … whatever is going to make you happy.”

“You want me to quit and go away, don’t you?” she responds.

“No, Brielle. I’m just being a mother figure to you. After all, I am old enough to be your mother, right?” I roll my eyes and lean forward for my bag.

“Well, you’re firing Logan, so maybe you should hang onto me for a bit longer before you have no one left to help you.”

I look over at her and furrow my brows. “Take it easy. I was just trying to be a friend. If you’re not happy, make yourself happy.”

“Ditto,” she says.

“I’m working on it,” I snap back.

“I can tell.” Brielle rolls her eyes and nudges me out of my seat so she can grab her hot pink duffle out of the overhead compartment.

Neither of us says much to one another as we make our way off the plane and down to baggage claim. “I’m sorry, Brielle. I was just trying to help, honestly.”

“I know I annoy you, but you don’t have to be so obvious about it.”

Why is she acting like this? “Did something happen?”

“Nope,” she says with a clipped tone.

“Okay.”

“I’m lying. Something did happen,” she says.

“What? What happened?” What could have happened? We haven’t left each other’s side in days.

“It was me,” she says.

“What was you?” We’re standing in the waiting area of the gate we just deplaned from, and people are staring at us because I’ve been a little louder than I should be.

“I told Logan to look you up on Words With Friends last year after Rick left you.”

“What?” I shout. My blood runs cold, yet my face feels like it’s on fire. “This is a joke, a goddamn joke right now, right? But it’s not funny.”

Because I’m still yelling, a TSA security officer approaches us. “Ladies, is everything okay?”

“No, she created a stalker and sent him to me!” I continue, now sounding like a nutcase, and officially making a scene.

“A stalker? How do you create a stalker?” the TSA officer asks, seeming more curious than serious, despite my erratic behavior.

“He’s not a stalker,” Brielle laments. “It’s Logan Grier. He’s a friend’s friend of Adam’s. We were all out for a party one night and someone mentioned setting him up with a nice woman who didn’t know a whole lot about sports … and well, I made magic.”

“You made magic?” I huff. “You set him up with me through a stupid word game. Then, when things didn’t work out that way, you—”

“Told him there was an opening as a temp, and you might prefer that way of meeting someone, versus the online dating thing that hadn’t worked out for you.” Brielle is biting her thumbnail. Maybe she just realized how asinine this all sounds or how stupid it is to interfere with someone’s life the way she has. How could she be so deceitful? “He told me you probably wouldn’t be too happy when you found out the truth, and that he’d just keep trying to meet you through your word game conversations, but I was impatient. I wanted him to make a move.”

“This was all you. All of it. I tossed aside a great guy because you had to interfere.”

“Wrong. I found you the great guy, Hannah. I was trying to help you. You were so miserable, and I just wanted to see you happy again. Forgive me, please.” I don’t think I’ve ever seen Brielle angry, not like she is right now. But how can I just be okay with this? I can’t be. I’ve been blindsided, and I feel like a fool.

“I don’t know what to say right now.”

“Ladies, can I get back to my job now, or should I pull up a few chairs and invite some people over to watch your Jerry Springer episode?”

“We’re fine,” I hiss.

“Oh, and if Logan Grier wants to date you … come on now, even I wouldn’t turn that guy down, and I’d be eternally grateful to the friend who made it happen!” The security guard walks away chuckling, which kind of infuriates me a little more. I’m a joke in everyone else’s life, it seems.

“Don’t blame Logan,” Brielle says. “I saw how happy he made you throughout the year you two were just chatting through your game, and I had to interfere. I just really thought you two needed to meet. I messed everything up.”

“He’s a grown man. He could have opted not to take your advice,” I tell her.

“Yes, but he really liked you, and I insisted it was the best way to make things happen. I know how easily people are persuaded when they have feelings for someone. Plus, you know how relentless I can be when I set my mind to something. He really didn’t have the option to say no,” she says.

I’m getting the feeling this isn’t completely about Logan and me. “You know how easily people are persuaded?”

“I’m not as blonde and dumb as you think I am. I broke up with Adam, for your information.”

“I had no idea, Brielle. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I did it before we left so I’d have the week to be distracted.”

I drop my shoulder bag to the ground and wrap my arms around her neck. “I’m sorry,” I tell her.

“I promise I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted you to be happy, but I shouldn’t have pushed so hard.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I may never have met him if you didn’t pull your shenanigans.”

“It’s true,” she cries out through a crackled groan.

“And, now I’ve gone and ruined things, so I guess that’s just the way it goes. He was out of my league anyway, and in the short amount of time we were together, look what I put him through.  I gave him the flu, and he had to rescue my glued-together ass cheeks. He’s better off without me.”

“Don’t say that,” she tells me.

“It’s life.” I grab my bag, and as we head toward the airport’s exit, I feel defeated. Maybe I’m just meant to focus on being a mom and excelling at work right now. I can go along with the notion of that being life’s great plan for me.

“I need to get my bag,” Brielle says. “Will you wait for me?”

“You didn’t check a bag,” I remind her.

“Yes, I did. You were standing right there.”

“I know. You didn’t check anything. We checked in at the kiosk and went right to security.”

“Must be that old age getting to you again,” Brielle says.

“Or that blonde is seeping into your brain,” I reply.

“I have a bag coming. Just wait a minute, okay?”

I lean back against a post in front of the baggage claim area, expecting that we’ll be waiting here for however long it takes Brielle to realize she didn’t check a freaking bag. She’s acting like an excited dog waiting at the conveyor belt as the alarm rings with the warning that the bags are about to roll out.

I close my eyes for a moment, taking in a deep breath, but I’m left with a gasp as a hand clamps around my arm, pulling me away from the post I’m leaning on. “Ma’am, I’m going to need to have a word with you.”

When my panic eases, I find a pair of familiar eyes in front of me, but the vision disappears just as quickly when his hands cup my cheeks and his lips crash into mine. I instinctively loop my arms around his neck, squeezing him like I need him, like I want him, and like I never wanted to walk away. His hands glide back into my hair as his fingers comb through my loose waves. His touch takes my breath away, causing our lips to part. When he tilts his head back and gazes into my eyes, a smile curls into the corner of his lips, matching the smile I have for him.

“Take me back,” he says.

“I never had you in the first place,” I remind him.

“You had me with a shattered heart, Hannah. You fixed mine, and I want to make yours whole again too.”

“You already have, Logan. I think I’ve come to realize that fate doesn’t always work the way we hope, and sometimes we need to take matters into our own hands. I see now that’s what you were doing, and I love you for that.”

“Really?”

“Really. Some might even say I came down with the man flu since I saw you last. It’s bad.  I’m not sure I’m going to make it without someone to take care of me.”

“All you need is some soup, juice through a straw, and liquid Advil—it’s like magic.” Logan laughs quietly and kisses me again. This time I hear Brielle clapping behind us, and I remember we’re in the airport, and we’re being that couple.

Logan turns to face her. “I told you she’d be pissed,” he says to her.

“And I told you she’d get over it,” Brielle argues.

For once, it’s my turn. I get the romance. I get the guy who wants to fight for me, instead of with me.