Flight Risk

38 - The Arctic Hare Room Part 1

"How are you doing?" Caleb asked through our hotel room's bathroom door.

I didn't know if it was three straight pizza meals or the stress of our relationship, but my stomach had hated me since I woke up with abdomen pain that nothing would soothe, not tea, water or these revolving door washroom visits. I was glad we didn't have a boat or remote tour this morning. Thankfully, the tundra buggies would have a bathroom on board this afternoon, and I hoped to make it through dog sledding before that, but the clock was ticking.

The thought of moving got my belly into another stabbing knot. "I only need a few more minutes. Is that okay?"

"Of course, can I get you something?" His voice was soothing and concerned. He was everything you'd want in a long-term partner that sadly might not be him.

"I'm good, thanks." I breathed through pursed lips and massaged my abdomen.

"Take all the time you need."

His statement wasn't entirely true. Our dog 'sledding' tour was in twenty minutes, so my body had to get its act together before then. Although I could do what I did in Asia during stomach bugs and pop an Imodium to make it through the day. It wasn't the healthiest, but it worked.

A few minutes later, my belly seemed to have settled, though it was like walking through hardened deep snow where most steps kept you on the solid top, but there'd be one that sent you knee-deep to get a bootful of the icy substance.

As I washed my hands, Caleb called out, "No, no, no," followed by cursing.

My chest tightened, and my skin grew as cold as it had in the water yesterday. Had something happened to Lily?

"I'll be out in a second." I finished washing my hands at lightning speed and dried them on my jeans as I rushed out.

But he didn't answer, not even when I opened the door, and he was pacing and scrolling furiously through his phone with laser-sharp focus.

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

His wide, panicked eyes met mine. What on earth had sent him into this state? He wasn't devastated, but he was far from calm.

"Please tell me you can delete a photo posted on Messenger."

I released a breath of relief. At least it had nothing to do with Lily's health.

"I don't think so. But we can look it up. What's wrong?"

"This."

He turned the screen to show Marcela's photo of us yesterday. It looked like a semi-professional engagement portrait. My cheek muscles strained from smiling so broadly at our cozy embrace. It would be one I stared at constantly after he left.

"I love that one."

His grim expression contrasted with mine. "My mother will love it a lot less if I can't get rid of it."

His mom was a much better option than his dad. She seemed supportive and stable. From his stories, I couldn't imagine her getting upset with him over this. Parents wanted their kids to find partners that cared for and supported them, didn't they?

I did a quick search about deleting photos, but the first answer didn't look encouraging, nor did the next three. We could delete it from his feed but not his mom's.

"Caleb, I don't think there's anything we can do."

"Fuck." His pacing was going to wear a hole in the floor.

I sympathized with him but also wasn't convinced it was as terrible as he believed.

I took his hand which vibrated with the same energy, and it slowed him. "Maybe it's a blessing in disguise. You worried about telling them, and now it's just out there."