by Kelly Wood
“Regan!” Jax joined us in the hallway. “This isn’t like you. Where did you put it?”
“You’re the one who said I was a zombie! Zombies can’t think. I. Don’t. Know,” I said.
“Stop bickering. We’ll find it,” Peter said. I checked my watch.
“We should be at the airport now. We’ll never make it.”
“Oh, we’re making it,” Jax said. I turned away from the look in her eyes. She reminded me of prizefighter going in for the kill.
“We’ve looked everywhere,” I said.
“Not everywhere.” Peter nodded toward the stack of boxes in the living room. The rest of the room was in disarray. Couch cushions resembled jagged teeth sticking up from the frame. Pictures frames were knocked over, and lamp shades were tilting precariously on the bases. The only neat section left was the stack of boxes on the floor.
The three of us tore into them. Clothing flew out. Knick-knacks were tossed on the couch. I opened every box in front of me, searching for my IPB. I found it in the last box. I flipped the top open and started shuffling through the files. I slid my hand down the ID tab and came up with my birth certificate and social security card. And my passport!
I screamed in victory and immediately screamed again in defeat. Like a basketball team losing the game with a last-second three-pointer by the other team, the excitement faded from me. This was my old passport. The government kindly punched holes in it as a visual.
I threw the passport over my shoulder, shoved the box aside and went digging again. Peter and Jax searched just as frantically next to me.
“When did you last use it?” Peter asked.
“Never. This one’s brand-new.”
“Where’s your mail?”
“I don’t know. Old mail could be in any of these boxes.” I sat back and ran my fingers through my hair. “I opened it, though. I had it. Somewhere.”
I racked my brain trying to find a memory of having the passport in my hand. I wasn’t at home. I remembered a crowd of people and being cold. Jax and—
My eyes sought Jax’s. The memory came back to both of us at the same time. I’d ‘misplaced’ my driver’s license in the move from Ben’s. I’d used my passport as ID to go out dancing with Jax.
“My purses, check the purses.” Jax looked around her for the right box. She dumped the contents on the floor between us. Peter, Jax, and I each grabbed a purse and looked through the compartments. With each purse, I held it upside down and shook it, letting the contents fall in front of me. I ran my hands through the pile of useless junk, holding out hope. My pile was empty of any passport but full of sticks of gum and half-used Chapstick tubes. Jax and Peter went through their bags just as quickly. I checked the box, hoping for one last purse, but it was empty. I sat back on my heels in defeat. We’d officially checked everywhere.
“It’s lost,” I said. “We’ve checked everywhere.”
Peter ran his hand down his face, pulling his features. With the adrenaline drained from him, he looked tired. Jax knocked lightly on the side of her head with a fist. I think she was trying to actually jar loose a memory. Her face lit up.
“Regan. You didn’t carry a purse that night. You didn’t want to hold it while dancing.” Jax shuffled on her knees to each box, looking in and then discarding the contents. “You tucked your money and ID into your coat pocket, remember?”
“The purple leather one! That’s what I wore.” Peter and I sifted through the pile of clothes. My hand sank down and I felt the cool touch of fake leather. My hands shook as I reached into the inside pocket. I felt the hard binding of the passport. I held it up in victory.
“No time for a victory celebration. We have to go!” Peter said.
Chapter Twelve
5:12 P.M.
It took us a minute to search through our mess and find my bags again. I looked back on the place. A tornado would’ve caused less damage. Peter pulled my arm and pushed me toward the stairs. I concentrated as I descended, worried I’d miss a stair and fall.
Peter’s car was still double-parked, and the woman he was blocking in let out a string of curse words when she saw us. Peter apologized over his shoulder, but never took the time to look her in the eye while doing it or to stop moving. She waved her fist and continued to scream as we jumped in the car.
I let out a breath of relief as I slammed the door shut behind me. Jax buckled up and immediately had her phone out, checking the maps for traffic. Peter started the car and tuned the radio to AM traffic as he pulled away.
The drive down Addison to the highway was stop and go. I loved living in this neighborhood. I loved the close proximity to Lake Shore Drive, where I could jump in my car and shoot downtown. I loved walking to the beach and running along the shore. The neighborhood boasted hundreds of restaurants, bars, and live theater. There was always something to do within an easy walk. But, when I had to get to the airport, I hated it. The trek was barely three miles down Addison to the expressway, but between the stop lights and the traffic, it could take forever. It was the one place that was inconvenient to get to from my neighborhood.
To keep my mind busy and my hands occupied, I double-checked my carry-on. Jax had packed it well, even including a pashmina wrap in case the plane was cold. All of my toiletries, electronics, and power cords were wrapped together and tucked in securely. I checked the front pocket again for my passport, rubbing the leather for comfort that we’d found it.
I dug around for my ticket. I pulled out my notebook planning to move the ticket from there to my passport. The notebook was empty. My heart did a little flip-flop.
Not again!
“Where’s my ticket?” I asked. Panic bubbled to the surface. I had so many things to check off before leaving today that the most obvious never crossed my mind.
“Chill.” Peter reached into his shirt pocket, pulled it out and handed it back to me. “I plucked it out of your pants pocket while you were in the shower.”
“I wasn’t about to give it to you earlier when you couldn’t even find your passport.” Peter caught my eye in the rearview mirror.
“Good point,” I said. I took the ticket and slid it into my passport. I tucked both into the outside pocket of my bag.
“We’re looking clear for the airport. Time check?” Jax asked.
I glanced at my watch. I scooted to the edge of the seat, putting my head between theirs. “Five twenty-five. I should already be at the airport. The flight leaves at seven.”
“You’ve cut it close before,” Jax said.
“And missed more flights than I’ve made.” I had a bad habit of not getting to the airport on time. I once missed a flight by two weeks because I didn’t even pay attention to the date on the ticket. I thought I knew when I was flying out, so why would I have double-checked? Unfortunately, my mother had driven me to the airport that day. I thought her head was going to explode when the airline agent told me. My easy-going demeanor never gave me the sense of urgency required for travel. Besides, the airlines always got me on another flight, so what was the big deal? Based on my anxiety right now, I was glad. This was stressful.
We sat in silence until Peter turned onto the Dan Ryan and floored it. He expertly weaved in and out of traffic, eating away at the miles. I relaxed a little more as we sped on. Another glance at my watch said five-forty. If he could get me there by six, I could make it if the line for security wasn’t too long. Or slow. Or as long as the gate was close. It was a lot of ifs.
“Why isn’t there more traffic?” I asked. “It’s rush hour.”
“Some bank holiday. I don’t know which one, but half of downtown was closed for the day,” Peter said.
“That’s great for us.” I clapped my hands in excitement.
“Why don’t you text Gray and tell him you are coming?” Peter suggested. “You’ll lose that big, romantic moment, but if you are late, he’ll wait for you.”
“I can’t. Gray was supposed to fly out yesterday, and his service is already shut
off. I thought last night was our goodbye. I was shocked when he appeared at the restaurant this morning.”
“If he’s on the airport Wi-Fi maybe he’ll still get it,” Jax said.
“He has a flip phone.”
“Who has a flip phone anymore?” Jax’s face screwed up in horror at the thought.
I shrugged my shoulders as I answered. “Gray said he doesn’t like the idea of being bogged down with a lot of technology. I just assumed he was too cheap to upgrade.”
“I guess an email is out,” Peter said.
“Oh no,” Jax said.
“What?” I looked up to a sea of red brake lights.
Peter slowed the car and came to a complete stop. He turned up the radio to listen to the traffic report. Jax went back to her phone. I watched over her shoulder as she typed in our destination to Google for directions. I realized that she didn’t actually need directions. She wanted an estimated time of arrival.
“What’s it say?” I asked.
Jax hesitated before answering.
“ETA six-forty.”
“I won’t make it.” The plane would be boarding at six-forty and preparing for takeoff. I’d never make it through security and to the plane in time. The loss was more overwhelming than I expected. I sat back in the seat, dejected.
Chapter Thirteen
5:52 P.M.
Peter looked over his shoulder at me. I cleared my throat, intent on not crying. I felt like a fool. What was I thinking running off with a stranger? What was even more absurd was that I wanted to cry about it now. I shook off the feelings and put on a good front.
“It’s fine. We tried. It makes a good story, right?” I offered up.
“You could go on a later flight?” Jax suggested.
“I don’t know where he’s staying. I’d have no way of finding him in Costa Rica.”
“We could call the airport and get a message to him? Maybe page him?” Peter suggested.
“It’s over.” My heart sank. It was over. There were too many obstacles in my way. I felt myself resorting back to my zombie stage, shutting down my emotions and feelings.
“Don’t give up, yet, Regan,” Jax said. “It’s not like you.”
“Jax, could we get off on this exit and back on the highway after the jam?” Peter asked. The traffic had come to a stop with us in the far-right lane. An exit loomed just ahead of us if we wanted to take it, although it was already filling up with cars, the other drivers having the same idea. Within minutes, the roads would be just as clogged as the interstate.
Jax used two fingers to shrink the map down on her phone. She shook her head no in response. “Shows a red line past the airport.”
The radio caught our attention. The announcer reported a multiple-car accident ahead of us. Traffic was stopped, and drivers were recommended not to use the Dan Ryan until further notice.
Thanks, dude. We know.
I glanced at my watch again. We’d been sitting stopped for fifteen minutes already. It was six o’clock. My deadline was passing. Even if we made it to the airport right now, I’d probably not make it through security before the boarding of the plane was finished, let alone, all the way to the gate. With only four miles to go, our adventure had come to a screeching halt. I pushed my knee down trying to get it to stop jumping. I’d been holding out hope that the cars would begin to move again until the radio announced otherwise.
Peter tapped his hands on the wheel. His eyes glazed over and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he thought of a way to get me to the airport. Jax chewed on the edge of her thumbnail, also lost in thought.
I thought of my trashed apartment. I hated to come home to a messy house. Messy didn’t even come close to describing the peril the apartment was currently in. I’d have to spend hours cleaning it all up, unpacking and organizing when I got home. Which, at this rate wouldn’t be for hours anyway, so I might as well enjoy my time in the car.
“Can I have my job back?” I asked. Peter ignored my question. He was focused on the rearview mirror.
Sirens could be heard in the distance. I used the passenger side-view mirror to watch as an ambulance drove on the shoulder to get to the accident ahead of us. It sped past us with inches to spare.
Peter’s sudden movement pulled me from my thoughts. He turned completely around in the seat to face me.
“If I get a ticket, will you pay for it?” Peter asked.
“I got fired today, remember? So, no,” I said.
“Good point. I’ll cover it.” He turned back around.
Peter turned the wheel and eased the car onto the shoulder of the road. He wasn’t able to go fast, less than fifteen or so miles per hour, but we were making progress. I watched the people’s faces as we passed them. Some looked mad that we were breaking the law, while others took to our idea. I turned in the seat to look out the back window. A parade of cars followed us on our journey to the airport. I guess I wasn’t the only one running late to O’Hare.
Peter navigated driving the shoulder like a champion race-car driver. He managed to squeeze past even the tightest of spaces. We slowly ate up the last few miles. I wiped my palms down the leg of my jeans. Anxiety sweat had caused a wet layer to form. My heart sped up again. The stress of the situation made me forget about trying to page Gray. If we kept up with the highs and lows of the day, I would have a heart attack at twenty-three.
The exit for departures loomed ahead. I could see it! My heart thumped against my chest.
“Time check,” Jax said.
I glanced down at my watch. I knew Jax could easily check the time on her phone, but she was trying to keep me engaged.
“Six-twelve.” Eek.
“We got this, Regan,” Jax said.
Peter kept silent, his focus on the driving. As he neared the off-ramp, he sped up. I slid back on the leather seats. My back pressing into the soft material. Peter took the curve to Departures at a slightly dangerous speed. I held onto the chicken handle in the back to keep from sliding around.
“What airline?” Peter asked.
“Um...” I groped for my bag to get the ticket out. I should have kept it in my hand at this point, anyway. “Um, American.”
“Good.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because we’re here.” Peter slammed on the brakes and veered toward the curb. The trunk popped open as the three of us jumped out of the car.
Peter hauled my travel bag out of the trunk. I slung my carry-on over my shoulder. My sore knee caused me to limp. Peter and Jax beat me into the terminal. The line was clear leading up to the American counter. Jax and Peter were already approaching the agent. In my slower state, I noticed the line for security. It snaked around the barriers, out into the terminal, and past the outside doors.
Chapter Fourteen
6:16 P.M.
I slapped my ticket onto the counter in front of the airline employee along with my passport.
“Hi. I hope you can help,” I said.
The agent picked up the ticket and passport. She glanced at the information and opened her mouth to speak but closed it and looked harder at the ticket.
“Miss, this flight leaves in half an hour,” she said.
“At seven, I know I’m cutting it close. There was an accident on the expressway. I’m sorry,” I said.
“No, not at seven. The flight was moved up to six forty-five.”
“They can’t do that!”
“They can, and they did. Passengers who arrived on time are already in the airport, miss.”
“It leaves in thirty minutes?” I asked, hoping the answer would change.
“That’s what I just said. You can sign up for alerts on your phone. You receive text messages about any flight changes.”
“It’s too late for that now.”
“True. Best of luck next time.” The agent said the words, but clearly didn’t mean them.
“I won’t make it in thirty minutes?” I practically pleaded with her.
“The flight leaves in thirty minutes. Which means the doors close in twenty minutes.”
“NO!” I pulled at the hair on my scalp in frustration.
“Miss, please watch your tone. Don’t take it out on me because you didn’t follow the recommended guidelines for airport check-in.”
I took a deep breath and worked up the strength to change my tone. I glanced at her name tag. Stacy was typed out clearly against the gold background. “I’m sorry. This has been a crazy day getting me here. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”
Stacy’s posture relaxed at my apology. Jax and Peter stood next to me, waiting to see what would happen. I appreciated their staying even if Peter’s car was probably close to being towed at this point. I would’ve hated missing the flight and being left to take the Blue Line train home along with the long bus ride down Addison.
“Stacy, I know I’m really late. I know there is no way I will make it through security and to my gate on time.” I pointed behind me to the overflowing line entering the airport. “I know all of this.
“But, for the last two weeks, I’ve had the most amazing love affair with the greatest man. The kind movies are made of. This morning, he gave me this ticket,” I held it up for her to see, “and asked me to come with him.”
Stacy sighed and covered her heart with her hand. I’d cracked the door open, I just needed to keep pushing, and maybe she would help me.
“My friends,” I held my arms out to Jax and Peter, “helped me see that I could do this. I could drop what I’m doing and take this adventure. We’ve packed up my apartment. Mostly. Packed for the trip and high-tailed here for me to make this flight. I would’ve been on time,” once again I wavered at my little white lie, “but there’s been a big accident on the Dan Ryan. Please, please help me get to the gate.”
Stacy picked up the phone and dialed an extension. I expected her to ask for security to come down and escort us out of the building.
“Joan, hey, this is Stacy up at the front. I’ve got a last-minute passenger coming your way. Can you hold the plane? . . . I understand . . . Not hold it, but keep the door open as long as you can? I’ll explain it all later. I promise. Thanks.” Stacy hung up the phone and began to type on her computer. The three of us collectively held our breath while we waited to hear what happened.
