Mister Weston

Since this post will remain here, I figure it should say something poignant, or something true and heartfelt as well.

Dear You Know Who You Are,

I love you. I truly love you and have never felt for anyone else what I felt (and still feel) for you. I’m well aware that you’ll probably never speak to me again, but I want you to know that you are undoubtedly the love of my life and no other man will ever come close.

Love,

Your anomaly.

Gillian

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GATE C49

JAKE

New York (JFK)

I WAS IN THE MIDDLE of reading Gate C49 when a loud knock came to my door Saturday morning.

At first, I did what I normally did when I had an unexpected visitor—shrugged and ignored it.

Unfortunately, the knocks became louder and louder, and after half an hour of this asshole not getting the point, I dragged myself out of my library. I didn’t bother looking through the peephole. I had a long list of words I was going to fire off when we came face to face.

I twisted the doorknob and flung the door open, finding myself face to face with Evan. “What the fuck do you want?” I asked. “And how the hell do you people keep getting past Jeff?”

“You. Me. The Red Bar. Now.” A look of defeat was in his eyes. “We only need five minutes.”

“We?”

“Me and Dad.”

I started to slam the door, but he wedged his foot between the wood. “Five minutes and we’ll never bother you again.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “That’s a promise.”

“I’m not sure you know the definition of that word, so I’ll pass.” I suddenly remembered what my mother said and held back a sigh. “Move your foot away from my door. I’ll be out in ten.”

He stepped back and I managed to close the door without slamming it. I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, grabbing my wallet off the dresser. I placed Turbulence into my jacket.

I’d read the remaining few chapters during my flight tonight.

I opened the door and found Evan leaning against the wall. “Where am I meeting you?”

“The Red Bar. I can drive if you like.”

“I don’t think so.” I hit the elevator button and the doors glided open.

“Then I’m going to ride with you there,” he said, stepping inside.

“The Red Bar is a fifteen-minute drive, Evan. You promised that I never have to hear from you after I gave you five.”

“Consider the drive a part of the fine print.”

“I’d rather not.”

“If I’m not going to be able to talk to my own flesh and blood after today, you could at least let me get every second possible.”

“Please refrain from pulling the ‘family means everything’ bullshit.” I stepped off the elevator at the parking garage level. “We both know it doesn’t.”

“Jake—”

“Get in the car,” I said, unlocking the doors. “But I meant what I said about the five minutes. Don’t talk to me on the way over.”

“Deal.”

I kept my eyes straight ahead as I drove away, unable to keep the images of Gillian and me from playing in my mind. She was invading all of my dreams now, and every now and then, I’d find something of hers in my apartment—something tucked away in her former hiding places.

“There,” my brother said, pointing to a parking spot.

I pulled over and turned off the car, more than ready to get this meeting over and done. I walked inside and spotted my father sitting in a corner booth alone.

“You promised,” Evan said, noticing that I wasn’t moving. “Give him five minutes.”

“It’s a shared five minutes,” I said. “Won’t you be coming along for the reunion, too?”

“I’ve already spoken to him.” He sighed. “I’ll be at the bar. You can give me whatever seconds are left. If there are any.” He looked at me, a bit of hurt in his eyes. “I’d really like you to know that I’m sorry about Riley. I should’ve told you what she was doing behind your back instead of siding with Dad and erasing you from our lives. And I’m sorry for ruining what we had as brothers.”

I said nothing. I just pulled out my phone and checked the time. Then I headed to my father’s table and sat down.

“It’s four thirty,” I said. “You have my attention until four thirty-four.”

“Four thirty-four?” He smiled. “Zero plus five is five isn’t it?”

“I’m deducting a minute for that terrible ass suit you’re wearing. My eyes can only take so much in one day.”

He laughed and leaned back in his chair, adjusting his cufflinks.

“Can I get you something to drink, sir?” A waitress stepped in front of me.

“I won’t be staying long enough for a drink.”

“He’ll have a Coke,” my father said. “I’ll have a double.”

“Yes, sir.” She walked away.

“Careful,” I said, looking at my watch once more. “I wouldn’t waste conversation time on drinks, if I were you.”