And I Love Her

Chapter 12 - Thank You

The ding sound makes me look up from my paper.

Seatbelt light off.

I don't even unbuckle it because it doesn't bother me. I start to bite at the black pen in hand then I look down at the tiny blue card with the words "Thank You" on it.

I only needed one, but they came in packs so I ended up sending one to everyone who came to the party, the only intended one was the one I was now writing on the plane back home to New York.

"Excuse me," I call over the stewardess. "How much more time is there until we land?" I whisper since it's the night flight and everyone is asleep.

"About an hour," she smiles.

"Thanks," I give her one back.

I lean back in my chair and look down at the card. I have an hour to finish it. I decide to read aloud what I already had.

"Dear James," I say.

I put my pen down and let out a sigh. This is going nowhere.

I haven't slept the whole flight so I decide it's the drowsiness eating away at me. I shut my eyes for about two minutes then grab at the pen again, knowing what to write.

I had a little flashback of James and I, the words now flowing through me and onto the paper.

Thank you so much, it means a lot that you wished me a Happy Birthday, I send all my best too. I want to apologize for not having spoken to you in so long, but I hope you understand- I needed my space. I'm sorry for making you feel the way I did- unneeded and replaceable- you're very special to me and I miss you, I really do. I've heard you're doing well and that your family's doing great, best wishes to them all.

Is that too short? Nothing else fits.

Sincerely, Katalina.

P.S.

No. I take the pen and cross out the "P.S."

Shit. That looks terrible.

I draw a heart over the crossed out mess. At first I think it's too much, but then I decide it's perfect. I was going to write how I want to talk to him, but I wasn't sure if I should say that boldly, just yet.

Once I land at JFK, I take a taxi back home, it was too early in the morning to disturb anyone.

I leave my suitcase in the living room and head over to my room.

Once I throw myself on the bed, I find myself just staring up at the ceiling as I begin to hear the raindrops commencing their descent onto my windows.

"This is fucked," I sigh as if my ceiling was going to respond. "I think I like James."

The next morning I call up Noori and we head out for breakfast in Brooklyn.

"Give it to me," Noori says as she pours syrup on her pancakes. "I'll sell it online," she says referring to the necklace Neymar gave me.

"No," I chuckle and take a hold of it. "No, I love it. It's beautiful."

"Of course," she raises both her eyebrows. "What's with you?"

"What's with me about what?" I question.

"I know you want to tell me something, and you already told me everything that happened at the party so, spill."

"Yeah," I smile. "I wanted to talk to you about James."

Noori drops her fork and knife.

"What?" I'm afraid to ask.

"What about him?"