Say It's Not Fake

What the fuck are you doing? Call me! Now!

So much for my mother not telling Meg.

I turned off my phone and continued to inch forward in the line toward the metal detector. The airport was really busy, but my flight didn’t leave for a few hours yet.

Was I really going to do this?

I ran my thumb along Kyle’s grandmother’s ring; the diamond glittering in the overhead lights. The simple wedding band was already a familiar sight on my hand. Should I take them off?

I started to wiggle them over my knuckle and stopped.

I couldn’t do it.

I pushed them back on my finger. I wouldn’t take them off.

Then why was I leaving?

“Don’t leave, Whitney.”

The memory of Kyle’s desperate plea would haunt me forever.

I told him I was only going to be gone for four months. That we’d talk after I had some space. But did I mean it?

Did I plan on returning to Southport?

I had paid off the house; I could sign it over to my mother. Absolve myself of the tie.

I could file for divorce …

I felt as if I was going to be sick.

I broke out of line and rushed to the bathroom, making it into a cubicle just in time to lose the entire contents of my stomach. Once I could do no more than dry heave, I splashed cold water on my face and stared at the reflection of the sad, pathetic woman staring back at me.

“It can’t be that bad,” someone said from beside me.

I glanced over at an older woman, probably around my mother’s age, with iron-gray hair cut close to her head and twinkling brown eyes. She was wearing the sort of floral print dress that told the world ‘I’ve paid my dues and I’ll wear what the hell I want, so keep your opinions about my wardrobe to yourself.’

I respected that.

I wiped my face with a paper towel, my hands shaking.

“Afraid of flying? I take a valium before getting on an airplane myself. Do you want one?” She started to dig around in her purse.

“No. I’m not afraid of flying. I’m just—” I tried to take a breath, finding it difficult to breathe. “I think I’m making a mistake.”

The lady took my hand and led me from the bathroom to a bench in the terminal. “Sit down and talk to me about it.”

I hesitated. Did I really want to share all my fuck ups with a complete stranger?

As if reading my mind, she patted my hand. “Sometimes telling your fears to a stranger is easier than telling someone you know. Less judgment that way.” She nodded her head knowingly.

“I’m married to the most amazing man and stepmom to a beautiful little girl. I’m scared …” The words shook and trembled as they fell from my mouth. “I’m scared that I’ll hurt them. Disappoint them. That they want more from me than I can give them.”

I pressed my hand to my mouth and squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to start crying again.

“Oh sweety, if you love them, then you will do your best for them. And if they love you, they’ll take your best and cherish it. Relationships don’t function on a tally system. It’s not as if you keep track of the times you mess up versus the times you do things right. We accept each other for our faults, and we help each other be better versions of ourselves.” The lady continued to pat my hand. “So why are you here? In this airport?”

“I’m running away from them. Because I’m a coward.” I hung my head in shame.

The woman put her finger under my chin and lifted my face. “You seem like a smart, caring girl to me. So, I want you to think and think hard. Will leaving make you happy? Don’t dwell on your answer. Tell me the first thing that comes to mind.”

“No,” I said without hesitation. “It won’t.”

“And will you be happy if you stay with your husband and stepdaughter?”

I nodded, tears flowing freely now. “I will. I love them. I want to be with them.”

The woman got to her feet and pulled me up with her. “Then get the heck out of this airport and go to them. Listen to that instinct that answered those questions for you. Don’t listen to the fear. Trust me; life is too short for that.”

“But—” I started to say.

The woman picked up my purse and carry-on bag and handed them to me. “Go. No buts. They’re a waste of time. All the messes, all the mistakes, they can be sorted out with time.”

Was I going to listen to a complete stranger? Was I really going to take advice from a woman that didn’t even know me?

I thought of Kyle. His sad, desperate voice.

“Katie needs you. I need you.”

I quickly hugged the woman. “Thank you. Thank you so much—”