Stay Close [h.s.]

Chapter 1

I sat in the airport lounge alone trying to remember the last time I had heard quiet. There was absolute, hypnotic silence in the private lounge, except for the soft whir of ceiling fans overhead. No one sat in any of the other dozens of sofas or chairs around me. An attendant working behind the bar shined a glass with a towel soundlessly.

The last few months had been filled with noise. Not just literal sound, but the kind of drone and chaos that come with the busy seasons of life. Everything had been building in a deafening crescendo until half an hour earlier when I stepped off the plane and into the quiet.

The lounge was on the second floor, limiting the view out the windows from the sofa to big squares of blue sky. I stared into the blue in front of me and counted the seabirds that soared by.

"Mrs. Styles?"

I blinked as two birds flew in sync, twisting around each other, as if rehearsed, from the bottom of the square to the top.

"Mrs. Styles?" The woman from behind the bar stood in front of me. Her black hair was twisted into a neat bun on the top of her head. She wore a knee-length dress and a black apron.

"I'm sorry. Yes?"

"Welcome to Male International Airport. May I get you a drink? You've had a long flight."

"Some water would be nice. Thank you."

She nodded with a soft smile and made her way back to the bar and out of my line of sight. I heard the pop and hiss of a bottle of sparkling water open, and the sizzle of the carbonation against ice cubes. She returned with the glass and set it on the coffee table in front of me with a subtle bow. I thanked her and she disappeared through a doorway.

When the blue square of sky become boring, I stood up and walked to the window. A fleet of yellow and blue seaplanes bobbed on the water below. They were all tethered to sun-soaked wooden docks with their captains and crews hurrying around for supplies. Beyond the planes was a vast ocean that stretched until formed a neat line against the sky. The late afternoon sun was already well on its way toward the horizon, casting a lazy golden glow on the scene.

"This is a private lounge," a voice said somewhere behind me. It was authoritative and cold, which felt out of place.

"Our resort package includes using the private lounge while we wait for our seaplane," a woman's voice explained. I turned around to see her shuffling through papers. "Here, this is a confirmation from the resort. We have two hours to wait."

The security guard remained stern. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but the lounge has been reserved for special travelers."

"I'm with my kids. They're not little anymore. I'm sure they won't disturb your special travelers. We just need a place to get water and charge our phones. We've been flying all day."

"There is public seating I can recommend, but I'm afraid this lounge is closed."

"I don't mind," I said, cutting their conversation in half. I turned to the security guard outside the lounge. "You can let them in."

The mother looked grateful. Her three teenage children eyed me suspiciously, likely trying to remember where they had seen my face before.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm really not trying to cause trouble."

"You're not," I said quickly before the security guard could chime in.

The family of four settled onto a sofa and pair of chairs on the other side of the lounge. Two of the kids took up an argument about using a power outlet to charge their phones. The lounge attendant came and took their drink orders. One of them must have ordered a smoothie because a blender started up suddenly and crackled through a cup of ice. My silence was gone.