I've always suffered from this horrible disadvantageous condition— it's called waking late on days I'm supposed to have early flight schedules. I'm starting to think it's an actual thing, so I'm not surprised it's less than an hour for my flight and I'm still on bed, feeling something fat and fluffy on my face.
"Whiskers?" Its Mabel's voice that wakes me up. Not the fluffy stuff on my face. Whatever it is. Gradually, I open my eyes, and I'm face to face with a white feline. It brings out its tongue to lick my nose before purring with pleasure.
Last time I checked, we didn't have a cat.
"Whiskers! There you are." I hear footsteps approach my bed as Mabel carries the feline off my face. "Sorry. I thought I left her downstairs."
I ask the obvious question. "When did we get a cat?"
"Last night. I found her outside beside our waste bin. She seemed so lost. Is it okay if I keep her?"
I ease out of my bed. "Just make sure it doesn't get cat poop everywhere—" my leg meets something soft and squishy on the floor. "I just stepped on cat poop, didn't I?"
She looks apologetic. "Sorry. I'll clean that up right after."
"You better." I walk to the bathroom, press a maximum amount of paste on my toothbrush and begin to scrub.
"Did you contact Noah... after his interview?" Mabel's still in my room.
"Why should I? He's obviously fine on his own. You heard what he said."
"Let's not jump into conclusions so soon. He didn't mention a name."
I pause to stare at myself in the mirror above my head. My eyes are puffy. "Do you know something I don't?"
"I'm just saying. I've done a couple of findings on his social media accounts, and not once, has he ever hinted about a relationship on his posts since you both called it quits last year. Actually, you called it quits."
"Noah's a private person. Your point?"
"It just... feels so wrong. I feel like we're missing something here."
My eyes twitches, and I fight the urge not to cry again. "The only thing I'm going to be missing is my flight if I stand here listening to you."
"I know you feel alone. I know you feel broken. As if something is missing. As if you lost a piece of yourself. One you've needed for the past months. I could see this in your eyes. The way you look at people. Looking far into their eyes, searching. Trying to discover that piece."
"Shut up, Mabel."
"I know you feel out of place sometimes, out of yourself. Like you don't belong. No matter who you're currently with. I know it's deeper than love. Deeper than your friends or family or what you even do for a living. I know this dilemma begins with you. Ends with you. But you don't have the slightest clue on how to tackle it. It's hard. I know. And you wish it could go away. This feeling of feeling heavy yet empty. This feeling of falling yet not being able to see where you're going to crash land. Or when you're going to hit solid grounds. Some kind of comfort, stability, you know? You're sad, aren't you?"
Disadvantage of having a Psychology major for a sister: she knows you more than you know yourself.
"And hell, you don't even know why," I let her continue. "You have everything going on for you. And still, you feel helpless. You feel as if you're not in control. This feeling. This web of numbness. It's hard to convince people of what you're feeling. Because you yourself don't even fully understand why. But I understand. Depression is a motherfucker. It creeps on you whenever it feels like it. And stays as long as it wants. As long as it needs. Depression is a motherfucker. A bastard not willing to let you go. It's out to get you, to destroy you. To rain on you. But you must be stronger than that. You must be willing to fight back. Don't let it tell you what to feel. Depression is a motherfucker. But you're a lot tougher than you think."
I hear her footsteps retreat out of my room, followed by the sound of my door closing. I don't have time to cry and do a mental breakdown in my bathroom because I'm hella late for my flight already.
After having a quick shower, I throw some of the basic stuffs I need into my traveller's bag, grabbing the flight ticket resting on my nightstand, then bolt out my door.
"Mom, I'm leaving." I meet her on our couch, watching some unfamiliar soap opera. "What's that?"
"Amazing series. Titled Husband For Hire."
"Great. Have fun." I deadpan as I step out of the house. The Uber pulls up across my street just in time. Simone and Lacey are already waiting in the backseat.
"Five years later, and we still can't get our shit right," Simone murmurs as the driver speeds off.
"If I miss this flight, it's on you both. Alarm clocks were invented for a reason," Lacey rants, then turns to me. "Did you contact Noah after his interview?"
"Why does every keep asking the same fucking question. Can we just go on with this trip without someone mentioning his name?"
Lacey and Simone exchange looks, smirking at the same time. They're up to something. I don't know what it is, but they're surely up to something.
"Don't give me that look," I say. "If you have something to tell me, say it."
"We prefer you find out yourself." Is all Simone replies. The rest of the ride is silent as there's so much going on in my head. How long will this feeling of numbness stay till it goes away? What if we hadn't met? Would I be better of? I'd probably wouldn't be constantly thinking about him. I wouldn't be thinking about his smile and how desperately I wished I could see it one last time.
I wouldn't be reminiscing how good we were once upon a time. And I certainly wouldn't be missing him. I wouldn't be burdened with the thoughts of him holding someone else in his arms, someone who isn't me. If I hadn't met him, I would probably still have thought I was good enough, that I deserve happiness and would find someone who would give it to me.
But things happen for a reason, don't they?
The flight attendant snaps her fingers in my face, bringing me out of my trance. "Your ticket, please."
"Oh, sorry." I hand it over, dragging my box and stuffing it under a seat. Simone, Lacey, and the rest of her Colleagues(who she introduced to me earlier but I forgot their names already) all file themselves to the seats behind me. The seat beside me is empty. Why does this scenario seem familiar?
"Why does no one want to sit with me?" I turn around on my chair, facing Lacey and Simone who occupies the row behind me.
"Don't take it personal, but you get drool all over when you sleep on a long ride or flight." Simone nods in agreement.
"Fine. I'll stay on my own." With an eye roll, I adjust back on my seat and watch as people troop into plane. No one still occupies the seat beside me. Why did no one choose the seat number next to mine?
I clear those thoughts when someone walks in my direction and shoves their luggage under the seat, settling down quietly. I can't see his face properly with the cap covering his features and a black face mask hiding just up to his eyes. What's with the mask? Does he have a flu?
"Hey," I begin. Typical me. Looking for ways to strike a conversation. Even if it ends up awkward. "First trip to Venice?"
No response.
"Mine too. I hear the city's built on water. Can you believe it? It gets windy by this time of the year, so hopefully, it's not as hot as the weather in Florida. Do you like the sun? Most people do. My sister does. I find it weird, you know..."
I trail off when he laughs. A low, throaty laugh that shakes his shoulders up and down. Is he laughing at me? "Did you always talk this much?"
"Excuse you?"
He takes off his cap first revealing his pale blonde hair, then his face mask comes off next. I probably would've fainted if I wasn't sitting.
My heart is beating so loudly in my ears that I fear I might go deaf as Noah sits opposite me, smiling oh so widely.
"What... what are you doing here?" I try to get my breath back.
"What does it look like? I'm going to Venice."
Startled, I whip my head around to glare at Lacey and Simone. "Did you guys know about this?"
"We might have planned it together. You were too oblivious." Simone grins from ear to ear and I just want to slap that look off her face.
"You're turning white as sheet. Take a breather." Noah pats my hair.
"You said... you said you were going to get married. What was that all about?"
"You made me a promise five years ago," his eyes steadies on mine. "About still wanting you when all of the past shits were over. I remember. You were wearing a short white gown. Your hair was up in a bun. You were beautiful... still beautiful."
I blink rapidly. "We were eighteen. I didn't mean what I said."
"But you did. I'm the one person you can't lie to. I told you you wouldn't be able to shake me loose so easily, if you remember."
How couldn't I remember? I was ready to promise him anything that night. Run away together if he wanted to. But it's been so long already, plus I was reckless back then. And immature.
"You can't. You can't show up like that after so many months away. What if I already have a boyfriend?"
His stare turns icy. "Who's he? I just want to talk."
"Noah, I..."
"I think you're going to have to marry me, Allie. I don't see a way around it. And I tell you, I've been looking."
"Is that so?" I run a hand over my face. "Have you?"
"Yeah." He grins. "I'd have found one if there'd been a way. You know—" he covers my hands with his. "I used to think I wanted you to distraction because you were so contrary. Then when I had you, I decided I still wanted you because I didn't know how long I'd keep you."
"Stop talking."
But he continues. "Then it kept creeping up on me, why no one ever pulled at me the way you do. Ever made me miss them five minutes after I walked out the door the way you do. When you weren't with me, I was crazy. Now that you are, I figure the only way to handle things is to marry you."
"That's your idea of a proposal?"
"You've never had better. And with your attitude, you won't get better." Noah grabs my purse when I raise it to hit him. "No point in saying no. I've got my mind set on it."
"That's what I'm saying." I cross my arms. "Until I get better."
He sighs, heavily. "Alright then. I love you. I want you to marry me. And I don't want to live my life without you. Will that do?"
"It's some better." My heart's so filled I'm surprised it isn't spilling over. "Where's the ring?"
"Ring? For God's sake, Allie. I don't carry a ring around with me." Perplexed, he wears back his cap when someone keeps staring, as if recognizing him. "You never wear rings anyway."
"I'll wear the one you give me."
He opens his mouth to complain, shut it again, then grins. "Is that a fact?"
"That's a fact. Damn, Noah. What took you so long?" I grab a fistful of his shirt and cover his mouth with mine.