by Owens, Wendy
Henry nibbles on my neck, and I squirm, the ticklish sensation overwhelming me. It’s pointless to struggle though; his embrace is far too strong for me to break free.
“You’re welcome,” he says at last, then continues. “You also have a wedding to plan, if I do recall.”
I stiffen. The mention of the wedding reminds me of the dream I had the night before … the dream of Christian. Why did I have that dream? I somehow always manage to do this to myself, when I find happiness, I inevitably find some way to sabotage it.
“Are you all right?” Henry asks, sensing the shift in my body. His arms fall to his side, releasing me, and he stares, waiting for a response.
“I’m fine,” I lie, slinking back to my seat, doing my best not to look into those blue eyes. I’m not fine—I feel terrible—this man who loves me with everything in him deserves to have someone who isn’t as messed up as I am. Someone who doesn’t dream about a man she hasn’t been with for over four years. I can’t lose Henry. I need him. He is more than the best chapter of my life; he’s helped me figure out who and what I want.
“Baby, something’s wrong. Come on, you can tell me,” he pushes, stretching out an arm and placing his hand on top of mine. His fingers are masculine yet slender. I always enjoy tracing them with my tiny, pale fingertips. With his other hand he reaches up and tucks a stray wiry auburn strand of hair behind my ear, and lifts my chin with his fingertips, forcing me to look at him. “I love you. Now tell me.”
For a brief second I think about telling him, but men have a jealous habit and don’t exactly understand. I don’t know what the dream meant, but it probably doesn’t mean anything. Christian and I have been over for quite some time. There are no lingering feelings, in fact, I rarely even think of him now.
“I think I’m just feeling overwhelmed. There are so many distractions here, and it feels like I’ll never be able to get it all done in time,” I say, shifting the focus away from the dream I don’t want to talk about.
“Well, what can I do? Do you need more help with the wedding? Maybe I can take some days off,” Henry offers. And there it is, that guy who can’t stand for me to be unhappy. I’m the center of his world, and he is never afraid to let me know it. I wish I were as brave.
“I know you’re busy with work. You’re taking three weeks off for our honeymoon. You don’t have any more time to give, but I do appreciate it,” I reply, gripping his hand firmly in my own.
“What about a girlfriend? Can you enlist one of them to help you?” Henry suggests.
I burst out laughing, and he peers back at me, puzzled. “I wouldn’t exactly call any of my friends in New York helpful. Emmie is the only one I can count on, but with her and Colin living in Texas now, that’s not going to happen.”
I watch Henry’s face twist, and then suddenly it lights up. “It’s settled then.”
Shaking my head, I ask, “What’s settled?”
“Today we spend the day together, tomorrow, you’re on a plane to Texas.”
“What? I have too much to do, I can’t.”
“Exactly. You have too much to do. Emmie will be the perfect solution. I’ll ship you everything you need for the fashion show, you work on that while Emmie helps with the wedding planning. It’s only ten weeks, Paige. We’ll talk every night; I’ll fly down for visits when I can. In ten weeks you’ll be home, the show will be amazing, another week after that we’ll be married, and I’ll be caught up on my work, which means I can leave the firm for three whole weeks in paradise.”
I tilt my head and think about the suggestion for a moment. “Well, when you put it like that.”
Henry hops to his feet and takes my hand. “Then I say we start our perfect day of togetherness in the bedroom … without all these clothes.”
“Henry Wallace, what has gotten into you?” I giggle, gladly allowing myself to be led.
“Oh, I think I have a lot of surprises in store for you,” Henry snarls, and I feel myself grow warm within.
TAKING A DEEP breath, I soak in the moment—balancing the bath towel my hair is wrapped in on top of my head. Henry is in the shower, and my thoughts drift to our morning of passion, before the growling of my stomach reminds me that such actions require sustenance. Quickly, I run through what I need to take care of—pack for my extended trip, book my flight, make arrangements to have my fabrics shipped to Emmie’s gallery, and it might be nice to call my dear friend and let her know she’s about to have a house guest for the next couple months.
I reach over and pick up the phone from my nightstand, ignoring the numerous and annoying Facebook notifications, and flip to my contact list. My heart skips a beat as I press Em’s name.
I listen as the phone rings—one, then two—finding myself growing impatient, missing the voice of my sweet Emmie. “Hello,” she finally answers, sounding out of breath.
“Hey darling! It’s Paige,” I reply.
“I know, there’s this great thing nowadays called caller I.D.”
“Oh, how I’ve missed that bitchy streak.”
“Sorry, the baby kept me up all night,” Emmie offers.
“How is beautiful little Olivia?”
“She’s great, it’s her mom who might be losing her mind. She sleeps all day and then is up all night.”
“Sounds miserable,” I reply honestly.
“You know what, I hardly ever get to hear your voice anymore, so let’s not talk about how I get no sleep. What’s going on with you?” Emmie asks. I can hear her trying to shift her tone. I wish I could reach through the phone and give her a supportive hug.
“I have big surprise.”
“Let’s see, your last surprise was that you had been offered a show of your own clothing designs, and the surprise before that was that Henry had gotten you a design apprenticeship in Paris, shortly after proposing with a big ass diamond ring. With you girl, I can’t imagine what your next surprise will be.”
I smile, so used to the excitement of my life that I forget how amazing of a dream I am living. “Well, it’s not quite in the same family of those other things, but I think equally as exciting.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense, what’s the surprise?” she presses.
“You’re going to have a house guest,” I answer excitedly.
“Huh?”
“I’m coming to Texas, girl!” I exclaim, surprised to be met by silence on the other end of the line. “Em?”
“Yeah, I’m— I’m here.”
“Did you hear me?” I ask, certain she must not have, or I would have heard it in her reaction.
“Yeah, I heard you. I’m just confused, I guess.”
“What do you mean?”
Emmie pauses, choosing her words carefully. “You have a fashion show coming up in a few months, not to mention a wedding. How can you possibly come for a visit?”
“That’s why I’m coming. I was stressing out this morning about how I have no friends to help me with the wedding planning here, and I think Henry knows I’ve been missing you guys so much that he told me I should go down there and finish my show in Bastrop.”
“That’s … great,” Emmie says, though I can sense the uncertainty in her voice.
“All right, lay it on me, what’s up?” I push.
“I don’t know if it’s the best time to head down here, sweetie. Between the gallery and Olivia, we barely have time for ourselves, let alone a houseguest. I mean—it’s not that I wouldn’t love to see you, I just think it might be a distraction for you.”
“Nonsense. Ten weeks down in sleepy town Texas is just what the doctor ordered. And besides, I can’t wait to get my hands on Liv, which will free up some time for you and Colin to be alone. Just no details, please.”
“Well, I guess.” Emmie still seems hesitant.
“Ten weeks with your bestie. What more could you ask for? Unless there’s some other reason I shouldn’t come. Is there something else, Emmie? Are you and Colin doing all right?”
“Other
than being sleep deprived, we’re great. You’re right, this will be good.”
“Perfect, I’ll book my flight into Austin for tomorrow.”
“I’ll have Colin pick you up, so just text me the time your flight gets in.”
“No, don’t be ridiculous, you guys have your hands full there; I’ll just take a taxi.”
“Are you sure?” she asks.
The last thing I want to do is sit in a vehicle—alone—with Christian’s brother for an hour. A taxi will be best for everyone. “Absolutely, it’s not a big deal.”
“Well, now I am getting excited.”
“Me too. I still can’t believe you moved to Texas.”
“Oh, Paige, you’re going to love it here.”
“I don’t know about that, Em. You know I’m a city girl. But I do know I am looking forward to spending time with some of my favorite people.” I hear the water shut off in the bathroom.
“You can actually see the stars at night here.”
“Well, I hope it’s as enchanting as you’ve described. Henry just got out of the shower, so I need to get ready. He’s got a togetherness day planned for us before I leave.”
“You two are so cute,” she comments.
“And you’re such a dork,” I joke before we exchange our farewells, and I hang up the phone. It’s official; I’m headed to Texas. Part of me feels apprehensive., though It feels like maybe Em isn’t as excited about the idea as I am, and I definitely don’t want to be an imposition. Forcing the thought from my mind, I decide I will make sure I am nothing of the kind when I get down there.
“FOLKS, WE’VE BEGUN our descent into Austin, where the current weather is a beautiful seventy-seven degrees. We will be at the gate in about twenty minutes. As our flight attendants begin to prepare the cabin for arrival, we’d like to thank you for flying with us today.” I stare out the window to my right, the land below still patchy through the clouds.
Glancing to my left, the oversized gentleman, who has been dropping bits of food onto my leg for the majority of the flight, is unhappy that the flight attendant has asked him to stow away his carryon bag for the descent. I regret not allowing Henry to book me in first class, as he had suggested before I left.
One of the few times I’d actually flown first class was when I met Henry. I had taken the modeling job in Europe and, after eighteen months of non-stop travel and shows with the agency, I was flying home. I’d been one of their most dedicated girls, never turning down an event, no schedule too crazy for me. I didn’t have anyone waiting back at home, so there was no reason for me to stop pushing full speed ahead. Much to my delight, the agency had upgraded my flight home to first class as a thank you.
The idea of oversized, comfortable seats for a massively expensive upgrade fee had always seemed like a ridiculous concept to me. However, anyone who has been on one of those exhausting overseas flights would agree, an extra comfy seat can feel like a necessity after the fourth hour in the air.
By chance, Henry had the seat next to me. I didn’t notice him at first, honestly. I had spent so much time traveling I barely noticed anything those days. He was the one who struck up some small talk with me. He was terrible at it.
“Frequent flyer?” I laugh as I remember the words. Had he not been so handsome I might have even asked to change seats. We talked the entire flight home, and boy was I glad I didn’t move. The last time I could recall having such an intense connection with someone was when I met Emmie.
Henry ran an investment firm that had been his father’s. Most of the men I had dated weren’t very forthcoming with details about their lives. In fact, they didn’t really seem to care much about my life either. They liked to party, and they liked the idea of having a Paris runway model on their arm.
On that flight I found out Henry’s dad died when he was in his fifties from a massive heart attack and, as a result, he did his best to eat healthy and exercise regularly. His grandmother on his father’s side came from old money, and she hated his mother, who was nothing more than a gold digger in her eyes. His mother was madly in love with his father, and after he died, she quit eating and talking—she simply gave up on living.
I remember seeing tears in his eyes when he told me about his mom, but he never did cry. There was a sorrow behind them that made me ache for this stranger. She found out she had cancer, but refused any kind of treatment. He had been begging her to do something, but it was like she was ready to die. He was actually headed home after consulting a specialist in Europe when we met.
I’m glad we met when we did. I was still able to meet her, which I know meant a lot to Henry. She was a delicate woman, soft spoken, with a small stature. Her nearly white blonde hair always draped around over one shoulder, and her skin was pale and soft. It was a joy watching her with Henry. I could see he made her happy. I even tried to convince her once, for Henry, to get treatment.
She told me one day, I would love so deeply that the loneliness of being apart from that man would hurt so that nothing could fill the void. I didn’t tell her I had already experienced emptiness like that, a hole left by my first love, Christian. I just hoped lightning could strike twice.
And she was right. I found that thing I needed, the thing she was certain no longer existed for her in this world. Henry was who I needed to put Christian behind me.
I had shared things with Henry on that flight that I had never shared with anyone. I told him about my mother and how I was always competing for attention with the men she was dating. The only people in my life who had known about the drama between that woman and myself were Christian and Emmie. But here I was, within hours of meeting Henry, and I was spilling my entire life history with all of its dysfunction and misery. He never made me feel broken; he just listened.
He listened to everything I had to say. He wanted to hear about how I loved clothes—clothes that make you feel beautiful and sexy, while managing to let you feel comfortable. It was on that flight that I admitted I wanted to be a fashion designer, not a model. I wanted to make clothes that made people feel good. His response had been so simple. He asked me why I wasn’t doing that then, and I had no answer.
The night that plane landed he invited me to dinner, and I couldn’t imagine answering anything other than yes. I didn’t want our time together to end. We ended up talking at the restaurant until the waiters told us they were closing up. He wanted to know about Emmie and Colin, who at the time had recently gotten engaged. Six months later he was my date to the big event.
“Please return your seat to the upright position,” I hear the voice request to the left of me. With a huff, the portly and grumpy man next to me complies.
“Almost there,” I tell myself.
Henry had even made me feel comfortable enough to talk about Christian. I was a little worried that Christian was going to make a scene at Colin and Emmie’s wedding, but much to my surprise, he avoided me like the plague. I shouldn’t be shocked, considering how we left things.
Christian is the past, though; it’s been over four years since I walked out of our New York apartment. He didn’t come after me, he didn’t call me, and it was painfully clear I had cared for him much deeper than he ever cared for me. For a while Emmie would update me on where he was or what he was doing, but eventually that stopped. I didn’t want to know anymore.
“Can you believe this woman?” the man next to me grumbled in my direction. I flashed a half-smile and then looked back out the window. I’m not really sure what kind of crazy the man is, but I really want nothing to do with him.
I watch as the earth comes rocketing towards us, the plane rumbling as the landing gear descends. I’ve flown more than most people I’ve met, and still the landing unsettles me. Something doesn’t seem natural to me about falling from the air so quickly and colliding with the earth at those speeds.
Closing my eyes, I clench my fists, holding my breath and preparing myself for the touch down. Once contact is made, this somehow gives crazy man next to me the
okay to try and start a conversation.
“Scared of flying or something?” he asks with a snort.
I shrug my shoulders, hoping he will take this response for how it is meant—a signal to shut up and leave me alone.
“It doesn’t bother me at all,” he informs me, clearly not getting the message.
He continues rambling about numerous things of which I care nothing about, including the fact that he has three cats who are probably making a mess of his apartment right now, because they can’t stand being away from him. Suddenly I feel very sad for these cats I have never met.
At last we are locked into the gate, and I begin counting down the moments until I will be out of this capsule with cat man and on my way to see Emmie and my honorary niece, Olivia, whom I affectionately refer to as my little Olive.
I wait patiently for the man next to me to gather his bags and stand up. As he does, a waterfall of crumbs and uneaten bits of food tumbles to the floor. He doesn’t seem to notice. Raising a hand to my mouth, I do my best not to vomit as the smell of onions fills the air.
“It was nice talking to you. Maybe I’ll see you around,” he says as he turns and makes his way down the aisle. It never ceases to amaze me how someone who doesn’t seem to bother with the most basic things in life, like bathing, would think I would have any interest in carrying on any kind of conversation. Yet, these characters always manage to seek me out.
I stand, brushing myself off and grabbing my purse, taking my time—at the annoyance of the passengers behind me—to ensure the creepy, smelly, cat guy gets some distance ahead of me. I sigh, relief washing over me that soon I’ll be back with Emmie.
WHEN I CLIMB into the taxi I never expect to get a history lesson from the driver. Apparently he is an expert of Bastrop and is thrilled to impart his knowledge during the thirty-minute ride there. With just over seven thousand residents, the little town apparently succeeds in having that small town feel, while remaining part of what’s considered Austin’s metropolitan area.
