If there was anything Aubrey hated more than her usual winding list of hated things, it was the concept of airports. It wasn’t severe as, say, her hatred of hospitals. That particular loathing was skin deep, brought on by certain memories and a general dislike for strangers poking and prodding at her. Airports were more of an annoying relative in her list of hates, a remember, this could be worse, that somehow made her hatred of them stronger. The hustle and bustle of crowds that normally made her feel at peace were amplified here, until she couldn’t help but be swept in by the general mood of anxiety and irritation.
It most likely didn’t help that she didn’t have her best friend with her to ease the ache. To make pained trying-not-to-laugh faces at some tourist’s gaudy t shirt, to exchange snide comments with, or to look to and ask what he wanted while in line at the coffee stand.
But of course, it wasn’t like she was ever going to admit that to herself, let alone him.
She’d barely managed to hold it together when they’d said their goodbyes. Maybe Marco was finally starting to brush off on her, because if a mere month in Seattle for Mother’s Day and Kale’s birthday was too much to bear, she really was going soft. The fact that he hadn’t seemed to be fairing any better was, for once, little consolation. In the moment she’d wanted more than anything than to brush the whole thing off as nothing, but now, sitting alone by her gate waiting to board, she could imagine a dozen ways to it have handled it better. She wished there was an accurate way to state I’m fine, really, I’m not going to cry, but this month is really going to fucking suck without you in as few words as possible. Small words. Ones that her emotionally constipated self could handle.
A fat dog-eared novel sat in her lap, one that she’d been trying to plow through for about a month now. But Aubrey’s attention was on anything but, constantly flitting away to the food court smell in the air and the fussing baby directly behind her. She unlocked her phone for what seemed like the dozenth time, feeling at unease and untethered. The tether in this case being a freakishly tall British man, of course.
She’d been thumbing through Instagram for all of two seconds when, as if summoned, Marco’s picture plastered itself onto her screen, accompanied by her squawk of a ringtone. She blinked at the interruption, then came to her senses. By the time she brought the phone to her ear she was smiling, half in disbelief.
“Have…have you even made back to the city yet?”
There was a very esteemed pause, and then Marco’s voice: “I-I just wanted to make sure you got through everything alright, that’s all.”
“Oh my god.” The words just managed to bubble through a laugh. “You haven’t. Marco, how are you gonna survive a month without me superglued to your hip?”
And there it was again: a month. The word itself was cushioned somewhat by her sarcasm, always in her arsenal and almost always aimed at Marco. Though not by much. Aubrey would have apologized for daring to mention it if she didn’t know that he could take the sharpness with ease, and give it back to her doubled. As it was she was so busy feeling daunted all over again she nearly missed his retort; something about “I made it in this city long before you came along” and “perhaps now I won’t have anyone yapping at my shoulder level, won’t that be nice?”
Aubrey could only snort. “Well…since you asked, it was miserable but I’m fine. I had time to buy some shitty coffee. I’m trying to read for once. I’ve become acquainted with a baby whom I think has your devilish charm.”
“Knowing your stance on infants, that only frightens me.”
“No, no, I mean it in the best way possible, of course. How’re things on your end?”
Marco sighed. It seemed to bring more pressing topics to mind. “They’re fine. I’ll be home relatively soon. Though, no meetings with charming babies to report, sadly.”
Aubrey hummed a note. Behind her, said baby was starting to calm down a bit. It cleared her head, enough that she could settle down further into her seat, the conversation itself. She might as well make the most if this while she could, anyway.
“You have any plans for tonight?”
“Ah, not really.” There was a sound of rustling, like he too was getting comfortable for another one of their Talks. “I might just stay home, do the usual brooding routine.”
“You should go hang out with some of the guys. I know how craaaaaazy you are about them.”
This time it was Marco’s turn to snort. “I’m not that lonely yet. Actually, speaking of—" And here he hesitated, as if even uttering the words into the phone would rip them from existence. “—I didn’t want to just tell you in the car, but ah, I have something planned tomorrow night with the woman I met…last week.”
Aubrey gasped. It was equal parts genuine and feigned.
“You mean…the one you met on the train? The one with eyes like the sky and a voice like silk? The one with an ass like—“
“Yes, that one.” He sounded chagrined enough that she almost felt bad for teasing so much. “And I did not say anything about her arse.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to. I’m glad you’re getting out there, tiger. I really am.” And she was. Though there was an odd tugging in her chest, the new and vastly ridiculous prospect that she’d have to share his time with someone else.
“I am too, especially considering that the most important person in my life in recent memory has been an American pixie who likes to eat my food.”
And that pushed her new worry to the side, until she couldn’t help but grin. “Ooh, who’s she, she sounds like a real catch.”
“But what about you?” Marco cooed, deftly moving things away from him. Aubrey couldn’t see his face, but she just knew from experience that his smile was currently blinding. Or shit-eating, maybe shit-eating wast the better term. “Did you tell that lovely Irish lady of yours you were even leaving?”
“I might’ve mentioned it,” she mumbled. She suddenly felt the need to shift. The idea of anyone referring to Nadia as hers was tripping her mind up. “Why should she know, anyway?”
“Oh, I dunno, there might be a chance that she’ll miss you, and will want to know when you’re coming back.” He may as well have been explaining the most basic concept in the world to a child.
“Fat chance.” The words came unbidden, dry as a bone. Aubrey rushed to overpower them. “You sound so wise and all-knowing right now, it’s making me sick. You should be wearing a robe and talking in nothing but limericks, or something.”
Marco simply laughed, the kind he gave when he knew he had her cornered and was reveling in it.
As if coming to her rescue, a woman’s voice sounded over the intercom, announcing boarding time and sounding even more drained than she was. Aubrey felt equal parts disappointed and relieved. She drifted back to the conversation in her hand, slowly.
“They’re letting the rich and important people on the plane now, so I’ll be getting on right after them,” she murmured. Was it too late to accept his offer and have him tag along?
Marco gave another sigh. “That sounds about right. I guess I should stop harassing you, let you actually catch your flight.”
It was as if the last few minutes had never occurred. He already sounded so downtrodden, even more than when he’d actually seen her off. Perhaps he was letting his full emotions out, now that they weren’t face to face and he didn’t have to worry about scaring her. Aubrey hated that he felt the need to do it.
“So, you know the drill,” she began, sounding a bit desperate. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone. No leaving any forks in the microwave. Pants go on one leg at a time.”
She succeeded, her words bringing out a chuckle that sounded suspiciously watery on his end. But she knew it wasn’t enough.
“Yeah, ‘course,” he said. “And all the same to you, Asher.” There was pause then, one that she could feel the conflict in though they were miles away at this point. Then finally: “Y’know, I’m really going to miss you.”
Aubrey had to take a moment. But then once she had, she didn’t care how she looked, curled up in the top contender for England’s Most Uncomfortable Chair while people stood and gathered things around her, beaming like a complete dope. She didn’t care at all.
“Yeah, I’m really gonna miss you too, you big ‘ol bastard.”
She had to hang up then. Anything else would have been too much for her.
Aubrey stood. Eventually, once anything else would’ve been unacceptable and she knew she’d be one of the last to find her seat on the plane. If asked, she’d still claim to be miserable over leaving her favorite person in London. And it’d be true. But her heart felt just a little lighter, knowing she’d gotten more time, a goodbye that was so much better than that rushed hug an hour ago.
And besides, Marco still had no idea how often she planned on texting him once in Seattle. He wasn’t going to miss her presence one bit.
