Your Flight Will Leave Soon Read online

  “And what about all my stuff?” Darcy overbought during her eleven years living in Texas, she knew that, but she had only three stupid payments left on her furniture account before she could close the thing and start saving that money every month. “Hanna’s place doesn’t have space for my things,” Darcy said. She needed a reason, any reason, to get off the phone. That was the beauty of distance away from family. She could always end a phone call. If she were home, she would need to invent a reason to leave which was almost always hurtful.

  Once during the last year, Darcy’s parents flew to Dallas and stayed with her. After three days with them, Darcy found herself wanting to take a vacation until they left.

  “You can store whatever you like with us here. We have space.”

  Did her mother forget that Darcy lived in Dallas, a lifetime away from Madison, Wisconsin?

  “Uh, you can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, stop being unreasonable, Darcy. It’s too expensive to live alone. You’re doing everything, and I know from experience that life experiences don’t happen all alone. Oh, which reminds me,” her mother began, and Darcy quit listening while her heart slowed down, the pace sounding more like normal.

  Sweat trickled to Darcy’s spine, from her neck. Her abs were still glistening.

  Darcy rolled her eyes. Why did she have to call and make her feel insecure about her life again and again? Why was every thought her mother had the best thing suddenly in the world for Darcy?

  “I know you’re in a tight spot, but I’ve met the most wonderful young man,” her mother began, and she didn’t stop talking about her latest perfect suitor for Darcy. Her mother often had a fixer-upper in mind (because those were readily available) and Darcy didn’t have the patience or money for a cracked foundation. Realities.

  “How is he so perfect?” Darcy asked, but she didn’t mean that. It was a rhetorical question. The suitor in question was probably just like her father; lovable for good qualities but deep down he was kinda helpless in a semi-charming yet pathetic way. Sturdy one second and blowing over from a fan’s low speed the next. Just like Darcy. She didn’t want a replica for a lifetime partner. That would be boring. Darcy wanted someone to balance herself. Compliment. Good at all the things she didn’t want to do. Tyler had been that guy.

  Tyler would try new things on a total whim. The exact opposite of boring. Tyler was dependable and stable. Until he wasn’t.

  “You’ll have to meet him, won’t you. His name is Bryan Goines,” her mother said and giggled. Yep. Giggled. Like a school girl. “I think you’ll marry this one. He’s wonderful.”

  Uh. Okay. Marcella had never made such declarations before. This sounded like betrothal.

  Darcy talked her mother’s jubilant ideas down from the clouds by simply asking for her father to come to the phone. She told her mother she had a question for her father.

  While talking about her day, Darcy could still hear her mother commenting in the background. Constantly. Her father always said that he was happy his Darcy and Lila had learned to save money from his good parenting.

  At least he didn’t maintain that he had a perfect notion about how she should live her life.

  He understood, and he supported her decisions. Darcy’s apartment was decent. Fairly close to work. The locals were a mix of ages and demographics, same decade mostly, but she didn’t deny that upward pressure she felt.

  Moving in with Hanna would be like Animal House reborn. Not the right direction. Her mother thought she should be more frugal and dip into a deeper pool of available men.

  Younger wasn’t always better.

  Darcy and her dad could talk about anything, but he liked to keep their conversations light and humorous. He would tell her about what he whatever biography he was currently reading and how his golf game had declined or suddenly improved as of the last round.

  Pulling at her sweaty tube socks, Darcy came to her feet and attempted to tug off her tights, struggling with one free hand. Speakerphone didn’t work the best.

  By the time she had pulled off her tights, having struggled silently for several minutes against sweaty pants, she was ready for the shower, then the bed, television until she fell asleep. Hitting the light in the bathroom was an experience in the full mirror, twisting and turning in bright lights. Her scale shared good news.

  Her dad changed topics to Lila, and that brought Darcy back to her full attention. Lila was rocking the pregnancy, but there was always news, and her father was trying (and failing) not to obsess over his first grandchild.

  Lila had found marital bliss and stumbled into an enviable life. An outrageously expensive and experimental year at California State led to her meeting Oliver Legrande. Smart. Honest. Caring. Incredibly decent. When he landed next to Lila in the backseat of a car reeking of college, on a double date. Lila hadn’t been his date, and after two minutes sitting next to her, he knew he wanted to trade up. She’d been fixed up by her roommate, and while her stand-in for the night wasn’t an eyesore, he didn’t have a shred of raw determination for her affection. Not like Oliver. He wanted her. And in the right sort of ways. It was his pleasant aggressiveness Lila liked most. He was a healthy blend of Raw Maca confidence and just a pinch of California asshole. The wind couldn’t blow him away, but he wasn’t into drag racing or daring guys to stupid things like the alpha males she had been around. For Lila, he seemed a little too good to be true. She was reserved. Very neutral, as their relationship played out.

  Lila and Oliver’s wedding was a small outdoor affair, among trees, white chairs, overzealous on flowers, a very Lila thing to do. Lila had wanted a house more than a big fancy wedding. And she wanted to stay home. Have a family. She picked Delafield, the town everyone loved while they were growing up but couldn’t quite afford. It was a place for special occasions, like a dinner out or to visit their parks for the bike trails. Their shops were all spendy boutiques, but they were a treat to wander, like touring an art gallery or museum.

  Darcy tried to stave off her sentimental thinking about Wisconsin. Darcy moved because she felt like she had to. Scratch that. She moved away from home for college because she was following Tyler and his sports scholarship, all the way to Dallas.

  Distance from family who caused more stress in a week than a normal person had to endure in a lifetime had been a blessing. Darcy had been free to be herself and alleviate herself from judgment and controlling opinions. Well. Opinion. Mostly from her mother.

  Until Lila broke the news. And her due date in June. Yea! Summer baby. She was having a girl, which Lila had mixed and crazy and dreamy feelings about because you really don’t know what to expect, even though everyone knows there are only two options. When life has no answers for its twists and turns, to suddenly have predictability, a known thing, it felt somehow deflating; a loss of euphoria, almost. And stability at the same time.

  Lila really just wanted no complications, or so she said, over and over and Darcy, from experience she never spoke about, cringed on the inside. Remembering. Fearing.

  Her mother had said that a healthy baby was all that mattered.

  Darcy knew how right that was.

  This baby represented their mother’s first and quite possibly only grandchild. No pressure.

  So when Lila called Darcy in tears, Darcy assumed the worst. What prepared a person for bad news all of a sudden? Like a car wreck that took both your legs for the rest of your days, what could prepare you for that? Life changer. Almost game over. How could people bounce back?

  “Oh, no,” was all Darcy could say. “I’m trying not to assume the worst.” Darcy forgot that pregnancy hormones made all circumstances down to an increase in swelling feet a life-threatening emergency and reason to rush to the doctor again. How many times had she been? She ‘d lost count. Darcy told Lila about having a baby in Finland–how expectant moms didn’t see the doctor but a few times and used a midwife for the birth. No doctor, unless complications came up. And newborns slept in cardboard cribs! Lila w
asn’t listening.

  The world could be near the end because there’s a dead bug on the window. Or because someone else posted an ultrasound picture on Facebook which is better in quality than the last one Lila posted. Or theirs got more likes. Their mother insisted that life wasn’t a competition but who believed her?

  Lila often said that she did her best to ignore disparaging comments from others, but it was so hard. Who knew the universe of having babies was so competitive!

  Darcy waited for Lila to compose herself. April 10th. Ten weeks until her due date. But when were babies ever on time? Darcy had no idea, and her friends who had kids all said it was a myth. Lila though, she was big, all belly–she had wanted to be this size at Halloween so she could dress up as a black widow, with a big belly instead of a big butt. She’d gone back and forth with all these expectant ladies about which stretch mark cream to use or whatever oils she should use and what affected the baby’s brain and other such discussions. Or debates.

  “Gillian bailed on me. Seriously. I can’t believe she would do this to me.”

  “Wait.” Darcy could breathe again. Good. Breathing is good. It’s not about the baby. Baby’s fine. “Stop. Tell me again.”

  “The baby shower. She totally bailed on me. She said right after we made the announcement at fourteen weeks because I didn’t want to have to tell people I lost the baby after the fact, that would have been horrible and I totally can’t imagine going through that…but anyway, we waited and we sent our announcements and Gillian was super excited, of course, she was a bridesmaid, but she told me over and over that she would throw me a shower and now she’s not. So, what do I do? I’m trying not to think about everything I need before the baby comes and what if she’s early! I don’t even have a crib yet. I’m not going crazy, am I?”

  “Uh, no. Not at all. You’re fine. You’re expecting,” Darcy said and wondered what the hell had happened, and at the same time, she felt a tidal wave of relief. The baby was healthy. Darcy didn’t want to let her mind wander to what might have happened.

  A lifelong friendship had been damaged. That was mendable. Hurtful, yes, but nothing serious. No longer a scheduled baby shower and a childhood best friend gone wrong. No life and death drama, seriously. Survivable tragedy.

  Gillian had been there for Lila, through it all. During those uncertain and often tragic middle school years when they were awkward together. They were side by side almost every weekend, holiday, all through high school. There had been a picture of them kissing, taken at a junior year party and it went all the wrong directions. Gillian had purple hair at the time and a new dove tattoo on her neck, which had just been unbandaged the day of that smooch. All sorts of rumors followed that photo around their school like dirt caked on Gillian’s Jeep. Darcy swore every scratch and dent on that car had a long story, with several versions, depending on who told it.

  “Can I ask what happened?” Darcy said, and she felt bad asking that much of Lila when the news, the emotional wounds, were still exposed. Did her sister want to rehash? Maybe she needed to vent. Darcy was curious. Gillian was, after all, Lila’s best friend in the world. They did everything together. They were on FaceBook more than with their spouses.

  The fallout started over scheduling. Was that really it? Darcy wasn’t sure, but Lila maintained that they scheduled a get together over coffee, or was it lunch? No, she wasn’t positive which it was. Three, maybe four weeks ago. Gillian ran late, and Lila had thought she went to the wrong cafe. Then there was the whole abortion and women’s rights dispute and right to life talk. Lila’s Christian beliefs, which were a new thing, caused a rift between friends. Then a disagreement between Lila and a mutual friend spilled over, and it all felt silly in hindsight, Lila had explained, and avoidable.

  Darcy was all too happy, before the end of the conversation, to volunteer to pick up the slack for the baby shower. She could plan it. Throw it from afar.

  “I can’t…how? You’re in Texas, Darcy. You work…how could you make arrangements?”

  The work comment. Darcy let it pass. She knew her sister was merely stating a fact, thinking through her situation logically, so Darcy had no need to sound an alarm. Lila needed support, personal conflicts and rivalries be damned.

  Darcy said, “I’m from there. I can figure it out. Call around. Use pictures online. No problem.” Darcy had said, but she wasn’t sure. She knew that businesses around town had changed ownership or closed since she had moved to Texas. What was good and not overpriced? Darcy knew that getting spendy meant she curbed her own financial goals, which, to appease the great Marcella, it would be necessary and yet, still never enough.

  Darcy wanted her pregnant sister to stop stressing and crying about the matter, and she loved the concept of planning Lila’s baby shower.

  Lila argued Darcy couldn’t possibly make it happen. Darcy knew it was a challenge because Lila had high expectations and she wanted the big family and friends who came to her wedding to make the trip into town just in time for a spring thaw and make her baby shower. Sure, it was snowing now in April, in their cute hometown in Wisconsin, but in May, it would be a beautiful spring, right?

  It wasn’t until after Darcy tapped that red circle on her phone did she realize what volunteering to plan Lila’s shower meant: she had to fly home. But she was returning home for the shower anyway, right?

  Four

  Galen

  Kat’s two bedroom apartment was new. They resurrected it from the ashes of a fire when the former and the very dated building burned down due to bad wiring. A smartass coined it ‘arson for progress’ as though it were a real project of burning down old buildings so insurance would pick up the replacement costs. Enter the new, secured, still affordable, three hundred twenty units. Secure mail in a well-lit community gathering place. The parking lots and walkways lit up at night like a prison yard during a breakout.

  Interview stress behind him, but he was still buzzing on the inside. Anxious feelings and relief that it was over washed over him. Galen debated with himself on the drive, deciding about where to go next. What to do? He could go to his sister’s place and get attacked by his sister’s little monsters. Or he could go to Kat’s apartment. The radio wasn’t cooperating. Every station had DJs talking. Every station. Conspiracy theory number eighty-nine.

  He changed his mind several times over and thankfully, kept the car in his lane, mostly. He hadn’t forgotten anything, though he couldn’t feel his wallet in his back pocket. Did he leave it at Marcson Technology?

  He wanted to search around for it, but he was afraid of taking his focus off the road.

  Still, he couldn’t stop himself from entertaining what his life would look like if Marcson gave him a job. That job. DevOps Staff Software Engineer. It sounded good. It paid well. His mother might even say a kind word about him and thinking that way made him laugh out loud, by himself, in the car, like a crazy person.

  He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he wanted the job most of all to make Kat proud of him. She was the reason, the real reason, he kept pushing to get through those elegant glass doors.

  His applications to Marcson had been declined in less than one hour on prior attempts, likely because he didn’t hold a degree in Computer Science, but no one in their human resources had ever directly answered that question for him. By years of doing, experimenting, learning online, recruiting souls from the geek community to teach him, he had learned and developed many of the same skills he would learn at a university.

  Still. He didn’t have that gold bordered piece of paper. They would pay for him to finish his degree he could not afford, as he phrased his situation to hiring managers; electing to make his student status sound as an in-progress task and the overwhelming cost of school kept him from completing his degree.

  Technology jobs are building blocks. You are as good as the company name, your job title, your certifications, say you are. One good job, solid company reputation leads to a better opportunity one year, two years
later. Your calling card was your company letterhead.

  Then there was the other issue he didn’t discuss. Perish the thought of having to meet new people and work with them. That felt intimidating and regrettable, like how he felt after leaving his last speed dating effort he tried after he lost a bet playing HORSE with a friend.

  He wanted to telecommute.

  He wanted to talk it out. Kat was really the only person he could honestly express himself to. Comfortably.

  Addison would listen, but she always kept giving him advice or somehow telling him, reassuring him, what a disaster he had made himself into, rooted from living on her sofa and branched out from there, which started a month ago because he and his parents, particularly his mother, needed distance. Or his parents couldn’t bear the sight of their epic failure in human form and wanted him to fly the nest, even if his wings didn’t work right. Most families gave love. Galen’s gave something very different, yet he felt an unbreakable, unspoken bond to them, as toxic as they were.

  His parent’s unique house, in their basement, became his post-high school part-time residence. His old bedroom had been converted for his mother’s artwork, essentially turned studio for her hobby, where she spent long hours laboring over her pieces in progress, which was most of them. She hated to declare any work of art finished. That was giving up, she said. She would always say things like, ‘what if new inspiration came in a flash of brilliance?’

  Kat had pain meds if he needed them. He wasn’t supposed to even be driving on his meds, but he couldn’t help that. He didn’t feel dizzy or light-headed. He observed the speed limit cautiously, just in case.