Page 14 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

And Emma, thank you.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I remove one silver dome after the next, revealing cake slices. All different flavors. I get a sort of thrill looking over the selections, but this feels ridiculous to try and enjoy alone.

Emma

Thanks for the cake(s). Any chance you want to join me?

It’s a lot.

Alexander

No, enjoy. I’ll see you in the morning.

Keep your expectations real fucking low.

I will. This is the perfect example.

I turn on the TV, looking for the trashiest reality show I can find.Hoarders, maybe Real Housewives. Nope, it’s gonna be Sister Wives.And then I zone out while shoveling cake in my face on my wedding night. Alone.

Happily.

FOUR

Alex

Beige hills.Jolt. Bump. Screech.Brakes engage, jostling the small aircraft.

The sun is just beginning to crest the beige hills as we touchdown, and the acid in my stomach is in overdrive at the sight.

I’m facing the music this morning. It’ll be the first stop I make.

Telling Britain means she’ll immediately turn around and tell Jess. And then, I’ll spend the rest of my life with this phantom heart banging around inside my chest. Beating for someone who isn’t mine.

“Are you okay?” She always uses the softest voice with me. I noticed that. I noticed she uses an almost harsh voice when talking to Blanks, putting him in his place. It makes me like her a little bit more.

Not that I like her. I don’t know her. I’m not even attracted to her. Sure, she’s pretty, maybe even gorgeous, but it’s not it forme. Emma would never be her. And I was pretty sure that was it for me.

I give a tight-lipped smile and say, “I’m fine. We just need to make one stop first.”

“Yeah, okay,” she says back, and I can feel Blanks watching the interaction from the periphery, sitting by himself in the back of the plane.

Emma had chosen the seat right across from mine. She even asked to hold my hand during takeoff because,“I’ve never really flown before,”and I did. And it wasn’t horrible, but I’ll make no plans of repeating it. If we ever fly together again, I’ll ask one of the crew to do it. But after bailing on her last night, it felt especially asshole-ish to deny her.

“Where are we?” Emma strains her neck, looking out the window. But there’s no airport, no signage, just 360 degrees of foothills, a landing strip, and a nondescript hangar.

“San Joaquin Valley. Private airfield.” If I tell her Prather, is she gonna know where that’s at?No.

When I started building the house in Spearhead, I purchased the closest airfield I could find. It would still take us 30 minutes to drive up the mountain, but it was better than going to a public airport and then driving an hour home each time I needed to travel. It’s even closer to Brit’s house on Robles.

Disembarking the plane, I’m reminded how light Emma is traveling. She probably doesn’t own a single thing warm enough to be in Spearhead. That point is made clear when we stand on the tarmac, and she shivers in the early morning chill.

She’s dressed in jeans, a vintage Van Halen tee, and a thin sweatshirt over top. I’m curious to know what shit storm she weathered that left her in such dire straits, but also, I can’t bring myself to ask. And I probably never would.

The one-woman crew and pilot say goodbye to Emma, and then I lead her toward the hangar where Blanks and I areparked. The keys are still hanging just inside the entrance, and I can hear Caleb groan when he sees I left the Jeep for him.

“Your heat doesn’t even work, man!” he yells at me. And I shrug because I don’t give a fuck.

“Can’t have Emma in the Jeep. Safety thing,” is all I say, and he immediately shuts up, ripping the keys off the hook and briskly walking past Emma and me towards the vintage pile of metal. That’s all it is. Just a couple pieces of metal forming a box with wheels and a couple seats. There aren’t even seat belts.