Emotional Boys 2000

16

A ticket to Detroit was one hundred and seventeen dollars... so pocket change for me...

Sitting in the airport, waiting at the gate, boarding pass in hand, prepared to get up any second, I feel my phone buzz from within my pocket.

I pull it out slowly, not feeling an ounce of urgency in regards to who it is.

I register the words on the screen, having received a text from Marshall.

'Have a safe flight, see u soon :)'

His wording through text is always adorable, and totally unexpected considering his demeanor in real life.

When I told him I was 'forced' to take stress leave, he was relieved for me and partially annoyed with how against it I was. I'm still against it. I still don't like that I'm going to Detroit for this reason. I still feel like a failure.

However, since the Coke I did last night, after I busted my knuckles open, it calmed me down momentarily, softly bleeding its effect into today, making me feel very indifferent to the whole situation.

Well... that and I told my boss that the stress leave was for family matters and had nothing to do with the job... so I feel in a way that I saved my ass.

"Zone three boarding flight from New York to Detroit" I hear come over the intercoms before I have a chance to reply.

It's not mandatory that I get in the line straight away anyways, so I simply reply back,

'Will do, boarding now'

I rise from my seat, shoving my cellphone back in my pocket quickly and adjusting my laptop briefcase strap on my should lightly to ensure it doesn't slip off me as I walk over to the line up.

I grip my boarding pass tightly, keeping my eyes on the Terrazzo flooring below me, tired of seeing it in every airport or large public building. My mind glazes over for a short period of time, my feet moving whenever my vision registers someone moving up in front of me.

"Boarding pass, please" I hear, head lifting quickly, ejecting my hand and putting my boarding pass and passport into her hand. She scans it quickly, gives my face a once over and then hands both back to me swiftly.

"Have a great flight" she smiles at me softly, eye glancing down at my hand for a mere second, ticking me off slightly.

I don't know how I'm going to explain this to Marshall. I covered it up with bandages last night, but I can still see the faint pink colouring of the blood seeping through from the inside.

"Thanks..." I mumble, walking off and down through the gate, heading down the ramp and onto the plane with practically no hold up.

I got myself a first class ticket, so luckily I only have one person sitting next to me who's also luckily got the window seat. 

I fucking hate the window seat. It's suffocating and let's be realistic, you only want to look at clouds for about ten minutes top on your first flight then it doesn't mean shit to you. My least favorite thing is having to ask for someone to get up from their seat so I can go to the bathroom, it's embarrassment I don't need. 

"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight 8HY with service from New York to Detroit. We are currently fourth in line for take-off and are expected to be in the air in approximately nine minutes time. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. We also ask that your seats and table trays are in the upright position for take-off. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. Thank you for choosing American Airlines. Enjoy your flight."

Smoking... fuck, I could go for a cigarette right now... worst timing in the world. Well, it's not like I need one desperately. I don't typically smoke cigs, but on the off occasion, especially when I'm stressed out, I enjoy them. 

***

Flight went well, short, simple, not bothersome. 

Waiting to find a cab willing to stop at the pick-up terminals for me to catch a ride to Marshall's, I whip out my phone and dial his number swiftly, noticing a familiar yellow vehicle showing up.

Though I instantly notice a start difference between Detroit and New York, debilitating my enthusiasm slightly, I also feel a stark sense of nostalgia. 

I remember standing in the airport, suddenly hearing my name being called by him. Fuck, his voice was so much higher at the time. He had such a different, currently foreign feeling, sense of innocence, childishness to him. Don't get me wrong, he's still quite childish... rather in a different sense. Instead of being a literal child... wide eyed and inexperienced... now he's childish in the sense that he's possessive and petty on occasion. 

"Yo, how was the flight?" I hear his softly distorted voice come through the phone, sounding deeper as a result. 

"Mhm, normal... holy shit if feels so weird being back here, I feel like I've been hit by a fucking brick wall" I grumble, flagging down the oncoming taxi by waving my hand in the air. 

The irony considering a hit a brick wall last night...

It slows down while aiming in my direction and I remember that I need to ask him for his address. 

"What's your address by the way? I'm about to get in a cab right now" I tell him, grabbing the handle and opening the door, tossing my laptop briefcase into the back seat and whispering a 'thank you' to the driver as he puts my carry-on suitcase into the trunk. I slide into the back seat as Marshall tells me the address. 

Turns out he's living in Rochester Hills... fuck, it is so interesting how we've developed. 

I mean, shit. From him going from living in my trailer on the shitty side of eight mile to him living in what is most likely a mansion in Rochester Hills? Damn. 

"Alright, I'll see you soon, love ya" I don't know how I feel about saying 'I love you' 

I don't know if I really love him again. I don't know how I feel about telling him something that is misleading. I think I'm heading there quickly, but I don't want to put any false hope on anything that could change quickly. 

Mhm, the stock broker in me speaking... 

So why did I say it? Simple, I didn't know what else to say in it's place that wouldn't be awkward... I know, pathetic. 

"Aight baby, see ya then!" he responds before handing up, making me let out a soft sigh of relief, glad he didn't mention it.

He did say he loved me on the call yesterday, something I didn't register until I was lying in bed later last night, having been too high strung earlier to recognize his words. 

Well shit... I'm back in Detroit... back to visit Marshall... back with a man who loves me... back with the man who makes me actually feel good...

Hm, I wonder how younger me would react to this... I was stubborn, I'm still stubborn, but I bet she would not have been able to understand why I've found myself back in a situation with him. 

She would most likely consider me lost, off balance... I have been a little off balance since the night I met him again. This because I had no idea how much he could change the gross taste in my mouth about him... and when he did, everything felt shocking... perfectly aligned.