“Where is he?” I turn to Juliet. “I haven’t seen him since last night.”
She shrugs.
“Dylan?”
He looks down to the floor. I can see that he’s hiding something and that he’s sorry about it.
“What?” I ask. “What is it?”
“I think he left already,” he says quietly.
“What?”
“He didn’t say bye to me!” Juliet explodes and then catches herself. “Or Alice.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Dylan shrugs. “I thought that he had said his goodbyes earlier. I didn’t think he would just leave like that, but he left about an hour ago while you two were still at brunch.”
I feel tears start to build up in my eyes. Why? Why did he have to do this? I try to blink to make them stop and manage to hold a few back. Juliet gives me a big warm hug. I sob a little into her shoulder.
“Please don’t ruin my shirt with your wetness,” she jokes.
“I promise,” I say, even though I’m pretty sure there’s already a clear impression of my wet face on her shirt.
After that, our goodbyes are short. I can’t wait to get out of here. The naked walls and the forlorn looks make me sick to my stomach. Dylan and Juliet help me downstairs with my bags. I give each of them a brief hug and promise to come back soon. Juliet brings the Hamptons up and, again, I promise to think about it. Though at this point, I want to put as many miles between New York and me as soon as possible and never look back. I need to get away from here. Maybe then I can forget about everything that has happened.
I hail a cab. When the cab pulls away from the curb, I finally let all of my tears flow freely down my face. The cab driver looks at me through the mirror and quickly darts his eyes when he sees my tears. Too bad. There’s nothing I can do to stop them. They just keep coming and coming. I finally manage to get a hold of myself somewhere near the Bronx. La Guardia Airport is still a bit away.
I take a deep breath. It’s okay, I say to myself. If this is what he wanted, then this is what it is. I guess I’ll never see him again. At least, not for a really long time. That’s fine. I got over him before; I’ll get over him again. Thank God, I never did kiss him the other night. Otherwise, this would be unbearable.
As we wait for the light to turn green at one intersection, my sorrow suddenly turns to anger. No, you know what, fuck Hudson. How dare he do this to me? All I said was that I didn’t want a relationship with him again and he just leaves? Without a goodbye? Without even a see ya later? You deserve better than that, Alice. A lot better.
When we finally get to the airport, I get out of the cab with a newfound confidence. My tears have all dried up and I’m forcing myself to look forward to a new chapter in my life. Summer in Southern California. There are worse places to go home to. I’m looking forward to the beach, surfing, drinking too much sangria in some Malibu beachside café, and driving a little too recklessly through the winding Topanga Canyon with the top down. It’s going to be fun. You’ll see.
After I pay the cab driver, I don’t bother to get a cart and instead choose to struggle with four large bags all by myself. The ticket counter isn’t far; I can see it from here. I don’t need a cart. Then I quickly realize that I do. Otherwise, I have to keep dropping my enormous bags off one by one a few feet away from me and going back for the others. I can’t very well leave them entirely by themselves as I get in line out of fear of getting one of them confiscated and examined by the airport police.
As I fumble with my bags during one of these mini-trips on my way to the check-in line, I hear someone say my name.
“Alice.”
At first, I think they must be talking to someone else. I’m not expecting to see anyone I know here. So, I ignore the voice and keep making little trips for all of my bags.
“Alice!” the man’s voice says louder. “Alice!”
When I finally get all of my bags to the place where the check-in line begins, I am covered in sweat and out of breath. I turn toward the direction where the voice is coming from and see…Hudson.
“Hudson?” I ask cautiously. I am actually so physically and emotionally drained that I don’t quite believe my eyes. I am seeing bright spots all over the place; maybe the Hudson before me is also a figment of my imagination.
“Alice,” he says again. He’s dressed in a casual pair of jeans, a plain t-shirt, and he’s holding a bouquet of daffodils—my absolute favorite flowers. His hair falls slightly into his eyes and he pushes it out of the way with his free hand.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“These are for you,” he says. He hands me the daffodils and I can’t help but inhale their sweet scent. They smell of hope and springtime.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Alice, I’ve thought a lot about what you said yesterday and I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re wrong.”
“I’m wrong?”
“Yes. That happens sometimes, you know,” he jokes. “Alice, I want you back. I want to be with you. I love you and love is all we need. What else is there that matters?”
“But how is this going to work?” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “You’re going home to the Bay Area…”
“That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not,” he says. He tilts his head, exposing a mischievous smile.
I stare at him. I have no idea what he means.
“I’m coming
