Page 8
Story: Recover
3
I’d slept most of the way. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had such a solid, deep sleep as I just had thirty thousand-thousand feet in the air. No dreams. Just … peace.
Once I had left the plane, it took me a good forty minutes to try and find customs in an airport that wasn’t as big as I thought it had been. It was the nerves, I guess. But once I had gotten my stuff, it didn’t take long for Pierre to spot me.
I was searching for him in the mob of taxi drivers waiting to offer people their services from the airport when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Kat,” I heard his voice from behind. I turned around, and there he was—looking better than I’d expected. Seemed like he had grown in the past couple months since I saw him—dark hair a little longer than normal, skin tanned and a smile so big I would’ve kissed him right then and there if it weren’t for …
Well, I wasn’t sure.
I threw myself onto him, pulling him in for a long, swaying hug without saying a word. I didn’t have to for him to understand—I’m sorry, I don’t want to lose you. Don’t ever do that again.
I’m here. We’re okay.
“Whoa,” he said, laughing as he pulled away from me. “I missed you too. Thanks for coming.”
Instead of stepping away, he reached up to my face, and gently caressed my cheek as we locked eyes. In that moment, I was breathless.
I am so ready to see you and talk about us.
“Of course,” I said, my eyelids feeling a little heavy despite the ten hours of sleep in my system. More like because of. “How are you?”
“Better than ever,” he said, slowly letting his hand fall to my arm. “Now that you’re here.”
We stood like that for another moment, as if we were some case of unrequited love that happened to stumble across one another by chance in an airport thirty years after a divorce. Something stupid sappy like that, and once the thought crossed my mind, I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and began tugging him along, just as we used to do.
He was Pierre, my friend. That was all.
“I’m hungry as fuck,” I said, remembering the gift card Felix had given me. “Ever been to C’est Bien?”
Pierre tossed me an amused grin. “Hold up, you just got here. How are you making the suggestions?”
We passed through the exit of the airport out into the chilly air. I didn’t answer him. Might as well explain everything over food. I wasn’t sure how much he knew, and I wasn’t sure how much he could take.
Elliot. Felix. Leo. And Pierre.
They didn’t exactly mix well.
“A friend told me about it,” I said as we reached his rental car, “and gave me a gift card.”
Pierre opened the passenger side door for me, and then ran around to the other side. “And which friend would that be?” he asked, sliding in beside me. “C’est Bien is pretty upscale.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, smiling at him. We pulled away from the curb and into the fray of airport traffic. “I don’t want to talk about him. I want to talk about you.”
I had meant the sentiment to be reassuring, but Pierre smirked back at me. “So, your friend’s a he?”
Gritting my teeth, I put my attention on the road ahead of us, and found myself looking at the mixture of modern and ancient buildings beyond the highway in the distance. I couldn’t believe it. I was actually here, actually in London. My life had completely switched gears over the past few months—I had gone from having the mentality of a fed-up victim to feeling on top of the world. Standing on the roof of the dorm building with Leo was the first time I realized it, but back then, I didn’t believe it.
Jet-setting on a plane to one of the classiest cities in the world forced me to.
“Pierre, how are you?” I repeated softly, keeping my eyes on the traffic thinning ahead of us, “Really.”
When he didn’t answer right away, I turned to look at him, studying his expression. Now it was his turn to keep his eyes glued to the road ahead, as if to pretend I didn’t exist, as if I didn’t just ask him a very, extremely important question.
“Hey,” I snapped. Pierre tossed me a quick glance, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he actually seemed a little scared. He knew me well enough to know that I had a temper, of course. But I’d never once raised my voice at him. “Fucking say something.”
“I gotta keep my eyes on the road, Kat,” he replied hesitantly.
I’d slept most of the way. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had such a solid, deep sleep as I just had thirty thousand-thousand feet in the air. No dreams. Just … peace.
Once I had left the plane, it took me a good forty minutes to try and find customs in an airport that wasn’t as big as I thought it had been. It was the nerves, I guess. But once I had gotten my stuff, it didn’t take long for Pierre to spot me.
I was searching for him in the mob of taxi drivers waiting to offer people their services from the airport when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Kat,” I heard his voice from behind. I turned around, and there he was—looking better than I’d expected. Seemed like he had grown in the past couple months since I saw him—dark hair a little longer than normal, skin tanned and a smile so big I would’ve kissed him right then and there if it weren’t for …
Well, I wasn’t sure.
I threw myself onto him, pulling him in for a long, swaying hug without saying a word. I didn’t have to for him to understand—I’m sorry, I don’t want to lose you. Don’t ever do that again.
I’m here. We’re okay.
“Whoa,” he said, laughing as he pulled away from me. “I missed you too. Thanks for coming.”
Instead of stepping away, he reached up to my face, and gently caressed my cheek as we locked eyes. In that moment, I was breathless.
I am so ready to see you and talk about us.
“Of course,” I said, my eyelids feeling a little heavy despite the ten hours of sleep in my system. More like because of. “How are you?”
“Better than ever,” he said, slowly letting his hand fall to my arm. “Now that you’re here.”
We stood like that for another moment, as if we were some case of unrequited love that happened to stumble across one another by chance in an airport thirty years after a divorce. Something stupid sappy like that, and once the thought crossed my mind, I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and began tugging him along, just as we used to do.
He was Pierre, my friend. That was all.
“I’m hungry as fuck,” I said, remembering the gift card Felix had given me. “Ever been to C’est Bien?”
Pierre tossed me an amused grin. “Hold up, you just got here. How are you making the suggestions?”
We passed through the exit of the airport out into the chilly air. I didn’t answer him. Might as well explain everything over food. I wasn’t sure how much he knew, and I wasn’t sure how much he could take.
Elliot. Felix. Leo. And Pierre.
They didn’t exactly mix well.
“A friend told me about it,” I said as we reached his rental car, “and gave me a gift card.”
Pierre opened the passenger side door for me, and then ran around to the other side. “And which friend would that be?” he asked, sliding in beside me. “C’est Bien is pretty upscale.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, smiling at him. We pulled away from the curb and into the fray of airport traffic. “I don’t want to talk about him. I want to talk about you.”
I had meant the sentiment to be reassuring, but Pierre smirked back at me. “So, your friend’s a he?”
Gritting my teeth, I put my attention on the road ahead of us, and found myself looking at the mixture of modern and ancient buildings beyond the highway in the distance. I couldn’t believe it. I was actually here, actually in London. My life had completely switched gears over the past few months—I had gone from having the mentality of a fed-up victim to feeling on top of the world. Standing on the roof of the dorm building with Leo was the first time I realized it, but back then, I didn’t believe it.
Jet-setting on a plane to one of the classiest cities in the world forced me to.
“Pierre, how are you?” I repeated softly, keeping my eyes on the traffic thinning ahead of us, “Really.”
When he didn’t answer right away, I turned to look at him, studying his expression. Now it was his turn to keep his eyes glued to the road ahead, as if to pretend I didn’t exist, as if I didn’t just ask him a very, extremely important question.
“Hey,” I snapped. Pierre tossed me a quick glance, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he actually seemed a little scared. He knew me well enough to know that I had a temper, of course. But I’d never once raised my voice at him. “Fucking say something.”
“I gotta keep my eyes on the road, Kat,” he replied hesitantly.
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