The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 67 - London Calling

I follow Mark into the airport carrying my suitcase behind me. I shiver as soon as I step into the large, air-conditioned hall. I inhale slowly, taking it all in. The pine-fresh stench, the chaos, the loud voices. Children running and screaming, some in joy, some throwing tantrums.

I see a group of excited middle-aged women gathering around a tour guide and a priest. I try to recall the day I was here last but I don't remember much. We were out of here before the last passenger had left the plane.

I check the time. Our gate opens in thirty minutes. We're late thanks to the chatty taxi driver who thought it would be a genial idea to try a new route to beat the traffic. I sigh and walk up to the blue screen Mark is scanning to see where we need to check our luggage.

"That's us, Champ! Desk number twelve!"

I smile meekly at him. He's been in good spirits since our lunch on Saturday but today he can barely hold his excitement. I check my phone again. No calls. No messages. No surprises.

I fucking love you.

His voice has been playing endlessly like a broken record in my brain for the past two days, even though I kept myself busy. Even though I made sure I don't run into him, which wasn't a difficult task at all.

Jeremy spent most of his time at the hotel. Or at least, that's where I think he was. That's where I hope he was.

It's quite surprising how simple it was to pack up my life into one suitcase. It was almost hard to believe I had a life to pack at all. I packed in two hours, had my paperwork ready in three and said all my goodbyes in one.

I stayed up late into the night listening for Jeremy's key against the lock, wondering whether I could find the courage to be the bigger person and actually say goodbye to him. But the sound of the turning lock never came and when I woke up this morning, Jeremy had already left.

I looked around the kitchen and living room for a note, maybe a book to read on the plane. But there was nothing.

I almost called him. I almost messaged him. But I didn't because I figured I had done enough.

"Everything alright, Champ?" Mark asks gleefully.

I give him another smile hoping against hope that this is the right move for the both of us. I don't know anything about this man or how he's living. I don't know where he's staying or how we're going to earn enough money to survive in London. But being with him will help him get better. And hopefully, it will be good for me too. Another fresh start, this time it's on my terms. I plan to make it count.

I look over at the aisle that leads to desk number twelve and notice that it's completely empty. All the passengers on our flight must have already been through security. My father and I make our way down the hall but the sound of a familiar voice chanting my name from somewhere behind me makes me stop.

"Ally! Ally wait!"

I turn around and see Sosa running in my direction. She looks a mess, not at all her usual perfect self. The mass of black curls on her head is all over the place, her eyeliner is smudged and her eyes look bloodshot and tired.

"Sosa? What are you doing here?" I say walking towards her, suitcase in one hand, passport in the other.

She stops about two feet away from me catching her breath, clutching her chest. She must have come running all the way from the parking area.

"Jeremy told me you were leaving!"

I purse my lips at the sound of his name on her lips. Of course, he'd tell her. I left a little over an hour ago and he's already running to her. Her eyes widen and glaze over as they settle on my passport and suitcase.