Page 1 of Meet Me at the Metro (Gildenhill #1)
1
RED-EYE GOODBYES
E L L I E
T oday, the weight of an entire ocean lies ahead of me, but somehow, saying goodbye feels like the heaviest part.
“Where’s your passport, Ellie? Also, I made sure to pack you extra copies of your birth certificate… and social security card in case you lose the originals, which I might just have to legally disown you for. Literally and figuratively.”
“Mom,” I laugh, rolling my eyes at her nervous rambling. “I’m not gonna lose them. And yes , I’ve got my passport. It’s in my carry-on.”
“Show me,” she orders, but with a kind sternness in her voice.
My mom is the softest woman I know. She’d do whatever it took to ensure the ones she loved were taken care of…
Including annoying the piss out of her daughter right before she’s about to board an international flight.
I fetch out my travel documents without any further argument, waving them high and proud in the air. “Happy?”
“No.” Her eyes immediately glaze over with tears. “My baby is leaving me.”
“Oh, momma,” I sigh, wrapping my arms around her. “Stop crying. You’re going to make me cry.”
“I can’t help it,” her voice wavers. “I was hoping you’d forget it so you wouldn’t be able to board your flight.”
“I was kinda hoping the same thing,” Dad admits, shrugging.
“That’s so rude!”
They both share a laugh as their arms embrace me with a tight squeeze. I soak in their familiar scent and try to memorize the smell of home, breathing it in as if it’s the last time I’ll ever get to. Maybe I’m being dramatic, but the thought of leaving and being a whole ocean away from them for the next year makes my chest heavy because it’s always been this way—the three of us.
The three bees. A close-knit hive.
Just us against the world since the moment they adopted me. Today, that all changes.
I’m going to miss them so terribly.
“Did you pack your raincoat?” My mom asks as I gather my luggage together. “You’ll need that. I heard it rains a lot over there.”
“Dad, come get your wife.”
“She’s right,” he agrees just to pester and pick on my ass, “it does rain a lot in England.”
“Do not encourage her!”
He throws his arms up defensively. “I am doing no such thing!”
“You are!”
“Excuse me for caring,” Mom sighs dramatically. “One more hug, please.”
I happily answer her request, letting myself melt in the familiarity of her embrace one last, final time.
“I love you, sweetie,” she whispers into my ear. I do the best I can manage to hold back the tears threatening my eyes. “I love you so much.”
“I love you more,” I promise her. I give Dad a shove. “And you, old man.”
“Promise me you’ll stay safe,” he pleads, but I know it’s really more of an order.
“Promise.”
“And that you’ll make smart decisions and call us when you get there?”
“Yeah, call us when you get there,” Mom interjects. “There’s no telling if those people you’re staying with are even legitimate, real people.”
“Yeah,” my dad eggs on. “For all we know, they could be aliens. ”
I ignore him. “You’ve literally seen them on FaceTime at least a dozen times, Mom.”
“That’s beside the point. There’s all that AI shit out there nowadays.”
“She’s right,” he nods, throwing me a wink.
I cut my eyes over to the dreadfully long line ahead. “You two are going to make me miss my flight!”
“Fine then, just go,” Mom frowns.
Tears are filling her eyes again, so I force myself to pick up the rest of my things and start moving away because if I stay another minute longer, I’m going to become a puddle on the floor.
“I miss you guys already,” I call to them as I join the line for security.
Mom’s full-on sobbing as she watches me leave. Dad pulls her against himself, comforting her so sweetly, and I’m struggling to keep it together at the final sight of them like this.
“Remember to mail us a souvenir!” Dad exclaims. I know he says it as a means to cheer me up, even though I know he’ll find somewhere to cry alone later. “We’d prefer a magnet for the fridge!”
I don’t have the strength in my voice to say anything back, so I nod and force a bright smile onto my face. As I make my way through the metal detectors, I steal as many glances back in their direction as possible. Things don’t truly begin to settle in until the view of my parents finally disappears.
The airport is wholly packed today, with almost every seat at nearly every gate occupied and claimed by a fellow traveler. The sound of announcements blaring through intercoms fills my ears as I weave through the passing crowd of bodies. I breathe in the savory and sweet scents emanating from the restaurants scattered throughout the massive airport, not letting the tempting smells stop me as I hurry to my gate.
I know I’ll miss my hometown and the wonderful people I’m leaving behind, but a plant can only grow as much as the pot holding it will allow. Lately, I’ve been starting to feel like my pot is getting a little too small for me .
I make my way onto the plane long before it’s time to take off, but I use the spare hour to send a few final texts to my friends and boyfriend, John.
He’s the last to text me back.
Good. Have a safe flight, Eleanor.
Will do, babe. I’ll message you when I land. Love you. ??
You too.
I try to quell the sting that comes from reading that last message and not take it to heart as much as I initially find myself wanting to. If I put myself in his shoes, I can understand his lack of enthusiasm about all of this.
The two of us have been inseparable since I first met him two years ago at the freshman orientation at Georgia State University . He had this way about him, with his confident smile and charming personality. In only three weeks of knowing him, he somehow got me tethered right around his finger.
I like the way our relationship has always come so easily.
Steady. Comfortable.
I don’t want to admit how scared I am that this overseas move might have that security crumbling because even fathoming the thought that this might somehow ruin the relationship we’ve built makes me nauseous. A deeply rooted part of me is convinced that following through with this program is selfish of me, mostly because I’ve practically accepted a position that could have been his.
John applied to Gildenhill University of Performing Arts in the same application period as me but only managed to make it onto the alternate list. So when I found out about the letter of refusal he received after getting accepted myself, I took the news pretty hard.
He did, too.
I know there’s a part of him that is so proud of me for getting in, but I also know that pride can only reach so far while he’s dealing with the grief of not getting in himself.
Now, I’m leaving for London for the next year to study musical theater, and John has to stay behind.
I swallow back that difficult truth as the pilot speaks over the intercom. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome aboard this flight from Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International to London Heathrow. If we could call forward your attention while the cabin crew points out the safety features aboard this Airbus.”
I try my absolute best to pay attention to the flight attendants as they demonstrate the various safety procedures in the middle of the open row ahead, but it’s no use. All I can think about is the big city waiting for me.
London— the city of dreams.
I deserve to feel happy about this, despite my sorrow toward leaving home—despite the fact that this new journey will be one that I’ll have to navigate on my own.
This is all going to work out.
It has to .
I settle back into my seat, relaxing the tense muscles of my body as the aircraft roars to life and begins making its way down the lit runway. The plane moves nearly as fast as my heartbeat, and as it ascends into the sky, my eyes watch the city’s twinkling lights grow smaller.
The beautiful, golden sun is setting over the Georgia skyline as we rise higher into the air.As it does, I take a deep breath and wish the home I leave behind the most heartfelt goodbye.