Other Side

02 | Merry Ex-mas

"Are you sure you don't need to bring another jacket with you?"

This was the third time her mother had asked this question by the time they'd pulled up to the terminal at San Francisco International Airport. Talia had answered with a no each time, but maybe the sunny and slightly crisp weather in California was impeding her ability to comprehend what was waiting for her on the other side of the country.

"I'm sure I'll be fine, Mama." She adjusted the oversized denim jacket she wore over her black long sleeve, sliding her hands into its pockets. "Boston isn't that cold, last I remember."

"Um, Talia, take that back." Calvin looked up from his phone as he leaned against their father's BMW. "It's thirty degrees with a windchill of twenty-two."

"It's what?"

He cocked his head to the side. "Thirty, with a windchill of—"

"No, no, I caught that," she said, holding up a hand. "God, why did my friends tell me it's pretty mild this time of year?"

"Maybe because you're dumb enough to ask people who live in California about the weather on the East Coast?" She narrowed her eyes at her brother, making him hold his palms up in defense. "I mean, you could always grab your coat from your suitcase."

She eyed the massive silver bag on the ground he gestured to, remembering how she'd shoved her winter coat underneath layers and layers of sweaters and jeans. Freezing didn't sound that bad compared to digging through that hot mess.

"I'm sure I'll be fine," she convinced herself.

She glanced between her parents and brother and then at the entrance to the airport, stomach churning as she watched people file in. She hadn't been nervous about this all month—she had no reason to be—but now she was risking bringing her breakfast back to life on the sidewalk. She didn't know what it was; did she suddenly feel guilty for staying behind?

She scratched off that idea as soon as it had appeared. "Gosh, this is it, guys."

"It is, Talia," her father said, the corners of his warm brown eyes creasing. He leaned forward to give her a bear hug and ruffled the top of her straightened hair. Reluctantly, he handed her off to her mother, waiting with a scowl that strained to morph into a smile.

Talia's refusal to accompany her on this trip had created a slight rift between them, and she only wondered if even more distance would make it worse. She'd given up on trying to justify herself after a day of avoidance, and so had her mother, leaving them to bask in awkward silence for the last week.

"I hope you have fun," her mother said, drawing her into a hug. Talia stiffened but let her run her hand up and down her back as she continued, "Just don't have too much of it." With another squeeze, she let go of her and leaned into her father's shoulder.

Have too much fun? As much as Talia loved her dad's parents, hanging out with two senior citizens in the Boston suburbs could only be so riveting.

Calvin was last, giving her one of those awkward half-smiles he still did even after he'd gotten his braces off. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and leaned in for a few seconds.

"I hope you have fun freezing in Boston. Remember, the human body can handle around thirty min—"

Talia shut him up with him an actual hug and then yanked away that damn 49ers cap she was sick of seeing on his head. She revealed a mess of golden-brown hair, a color that would have looked great on her if not for all the dark genes she'd inherited.

"I'm taking this with me so I can keep warm," she said, adjusting it on top of her slightly smaller head. "Wouldn't want to freeze, would I?"

He rolled his eyes but didn't protest the fact she'd stolen his prized possession.

After she said some more goodbyes and got pulled into even more hugs, she sucked it up and made her way to the entrance of the airport, ignoring her pre-flying jitters. Once she'd waited in line to check her bags in and waited in line to pass through security, she found her way to her gate to wait even more.

She scanned the expanse of her labeled area, finding almost every seat occupied, and certainly not one next to an outlet. She sighed, darting her eyes between the surrounding gates, and made her way over to the half-empty one to D.C. Mirroring nearly everyone else there, she pulled out her phone, and it opened to Snapchat.

She worked her way across her college friends' stories, something she only reserved for real bouts of boredom. Without thinking, she clicked on Logan's and winced, as she had been trying to avoid awkward moments like these for the past eight months. So far, Talia had only seen him four times since the break-up, and that was saying something since they were in nearly the same major.

She prepared to click out of his story until something caught the corner of her eye—an airport geofilter.

Stiffening, she tucked her phone into her jeans pocket and craned her neck, trying to catch sight of him somewhere, although he could have been anywhere in the massive airport. The buzz and clamor seemed to die down as she luckily—or maybe not so much so—spotted him, reducing her world to those very familiar blue-green eyes.

Logan rose from his seat, untangling himself from his iPhone charger and coffee cup, and revealed his full outfit: dark brown loafers, slim khakis, and a white Henley.

She almost snorted. Of course nothing had changed.

He lowered himself to the seat next to her, lips curling into a small grin. "Hey, Talia. What are the odds we'd be both heading to the same place at the same time?"

The corners of her mouth barely lifted into a smile. "I'm actually going to visit my grandparents in Boston, but there were no seats by my gate. What's in D.C. for you?"

"I'm flying there with Brandon to visit some family."

She held in a gasp, subtly trying to check if he was nearby. When she confirmed he wasn't in the vicinity, she averted her attention to Logan, heart still thudding.

He finally acknowledged her discomfort—or at least noticed it. "Listen, Talia, I know I've said nothing about that dinner at my house, but I know it was partly the reason you broke up with me. My brother was way out of line with his comments, so I wanted to apologize on his behalf. I'm really sorry."

She huffed inaudibly over the clamor of the airport. "You know what, it's fine, Logan; I'm sort of over it by—" She couldn't utter the last word of her dubious reply when she picked up a figure in her periphery, mirroring Logan's gait.

"Man, is that Talia?" Brandon clapped his hands together, resting his unsettling blue eyes on her face. "Shit, I thought you guys broke up ages ago. You back together now or something?"

Logan sucked in his cheeks, imploring his brother to stop with one hard stare. "No, we just ran into each other by chance a few minutes ago. Could you give us a moment, Brandon?"

He nodded, stuffing his hands into the pockets of dark-wash jeans, and took a short step back. "Yeah, sure, cool." He stared at Talia again, making her hate how he shared Logan's eyes. No one could convince her the two brothers were the same, but she wasn't sure how much she cared anymore. "Talia, wait, are you headed back to the homeland for the holidays or something? Or wait, do you even celebrate Christmas? I don't remember if Logan ever mentioned if you—"

"Does this look like the fucking international terminal to you?" She flung a hand to the surrounding gates, each leading to flights to a different major American city. When he didn't answer, she grabbed her bag and rose from her seat, spotting an empty one by her true gate. Locking eyes with Logan, she finished, "Hope you and your parents had a very Merry Christmas."

There was nothing merry in her tone.

Without another word to either brother, Talia made a beeline to her gate. She and Logan made eye contact one more time as she stepped in line to board her flight. He appeared absolutely defeated, shoulders slumped and head in his hands.

She mouthed it's not you, even though she knew he couldn't make out what she was saying from this far away. She finally didn't care either, realizing the last few minutes were enough of a reminder that she wasn't ready to date anyone again yet—with or without the douchebag brother.

Boston, here I come, she thought, happy the closest to a man she'd see once she arrived was her seventy-four-year-old grandfather.