All The Love, H (H.S.)

eleven

Olivia,

I've always hated flying. You'd always make fun of me for it, considering I'd chosen to live in a place that required me to fly home to my family whenever I wanted to visit. But it wasn't the flying itself that bothered me. It was the waiting. The crowded airport terminals, the never-ending security lines, the unpredictability of flight times.

I especially hated flying in the winter. But when the hospital sent me to an Emergency medicine conference in Chicago in early November, I couldn't turn it down. Even if it did mean flying through both JFK and Chicago O'Hare.

And so winter is what had led me to a hard, metal chair in the corner of the Chicago O'Hare Terminal 1 after a flight delay, followed by a flight cancellation. I was now awaiting my rescheduled flight, which with even a tiny bit of Niall's Irish luck would actually depart for New York.

I was so exhausted from the weekend of lectures and networking, that I was almost sure I had fallen asleep in the airport and was actively dreaming up your familiar face from across the gate waiting area. You were sitting with your feet across two seats, laptop in that familiar space on your lap, focused on your screen. Your uncanny ability to write at any time and place blew my mind.

I caught myself staring. I shifted my gaze away and tried to concentrate back on my phone. It couldn't be you. It couldn't possibly be. And even if it was you it's not like it was appropriate for me to go and say anything-you were with that English professor, Liam.

I pushed the thought aside and patiently awaited the announcement for the flight. By some miracle, the weather did clear up enough for the flight to take off and before I knew it the announcement was coming across the loudspeaker.

My job had its perks, and one of those happened to be early boarding. It something I had never really considered being a perk, until the first time I boarded a plane without having to fight the thwarts of passengers for space in the overhead compartments.

"If you have priority boarding you may now approach the gate," the stewardess called. I pulled up my suitcase and made my way towards the entrance. I wanted to turn my head to catch a glimpse of the person I thought was you, but I resisted the urge. It was better that way, because once you got in my head it became an endless cycle of what could have been.

I take my seat near the window, throwing in my headphones and staring out at the tarmac. The snow was still falling softly, the tiny particles swirling in the air.

I barely even heard movement as the general public boarded the plane, as I had drifted off into my own little world. It wasn't until I felt someone take a seat next to me that I turned to see who I would be sharing the journey with for the next few hours.

My breath caught when my face met yours. Your eyes showing the same wide eyed amazement that I'm sure mine were. You hadn't been a figment of my imagination after all.

"Hi," I said awkwardly.

"Hey," you smiled back. For someone who always had seemed to have a lot to say, you were particularly quiet.

I scanned the rest of the plane, wondering if I'd catch a glimpse of your English professor boyfriend. I glanced down at your left hand but see no signs of a ring. I have to admit I was a bit surprised, considering how big of a deal that had been to you during our relationship.

I didn't want to say anything. I wanted nothing more than to spend a few hours with you, even if that was all. Even if once we landed you left my life again. But I also knew that if I spent the next few hours next to you, on this plane, that all the feelings I'd been suppressing for so long might come rushing back. And I'd be once again devastated when you were gone.