Tiebreaker (It Takes Two 2)

Nodding, he takes the boarding pass and starts the slow trek down the ramp. Ten minutes later, my row is called to board. With a heavy heart, I take one last look around the waiting area and make my way down the ramp.

The soldier’s seat is close to the back of the plane. Making my way down the coach aisle, I hear, “Hey, isn’t that the tennis player? I forget her name.”

“Nah, she wouldn’t be sittin’ back here.”

My bag knocks into every other armrest on my way to seat 27––a middle seat no less. One that’s in between two rather large men. Seeing my cast, the one in the aisle seat is kind enough to help me stow my bag overhead.

As soon as I take my seat, my eyes fall shut. My mind drifts to Noah, to the look on his face when he realized the error of his ways. Leaving without a word is cowardly, I know it is, but my feelings are still a mixed bag. As much as I love him, I’m still angry enough to want to clobber him and violence is never the answer. Especially when you love someone. A few days of distance will help me get a handle on things.

“Maren!”

The shout comes from the head of the plane. I look around with a confused expression, as if I’m not the Maren in question. My heart leapt out of my chest at the sound of his voice––it did, I fully admit it. And yet I hunker down, slouching lower in my seat.

“Get off of me! I bought a ticket, motherfucker! Where is she?”

Oh brother.

“Maren!”

Nuts, I’m going to have to handle this. I stand and I’m not the only one. A number of passengers are rubbernecking to see what the commotion is about.

“Over here,” I say in a super low voice. Every set of eyeballs in coach is now aimed at me, watching with newfound curiosity. I may as well be on center court.

“Maren?” Noah is standing in first class, staring down the coach aisle with two attendants trying to block his path.

“Hi,” is all I think to say under the heat of all that focused interest. My hand comes up of its own accord and does a little four finger wave.

Noah’s face relaxes, one side of his soft lips tipping up in the goofiest smile. “Hi, baby.”

I hear a bunch of chatter, some tsks and a handful of awws. My attention, however, remains on the man wearing all the relief in the world on his face.

He pushes past the attendants and comes marching toward me with an expression that can only be described as resolute. He’s coming in guns blazing and wants me to know it.

“Sir, you can’t…sir! We’re calling the police,” one of the male attendants yells.

One row from me he stops. “You can’t leave.”

“Excuse me?” The corner of my eye starts to twitch. I couldn’t possibly have heard him give me an order.

At my reaction, he adjusts, “Don’t leave––please. I can’t lose you again, Mare. Let me explain.”

Lose me? I think I need to have a long talk with my sister.

“Jesus, darlin’, give the man a chance to explain,” a stranger shouts from two rows over.

“Yeah, listen to the man,” another buttinski adds.

“Go ahead. That guy––” I hook a thumb behind me. “––wants to hear your explanation for why you were a coward.”

“I’m a fuckup,” he starts, expression sheepish. “I know I am…and I know I don’t deserve you.”

“Mommy, he said the f word,” a child’s voice whispers in the background.

“I know, sweetie. Men in love do stupid things,” her mother replies.

Preach, sister.

“Where do you get off thinking you know what’s best for me?” I feel the need to kindly point out. “Both you and Rowdy made a mess of everything.”

“I know…I know. You’re right.” I’ll give him credit. I have never seen him look remorseful, ever, and right now he’s doing a pretty good job of it.

“You never gave me a choice. What if I had done that to you, Noah? Try and imagine how that would feel.”

He steps closer and grips the headrest of the seat in front of me, his knuckles turning white. “I didn’t think…” His quiet plea fades.

“That’s right, you didn’t.”

His jaw stiffens, the muscle twitching as he bears down on the emotions pushing to the surface. “My life isn’t worth shit without you, Mare, and if I have to wait another decade for you to forgive me then I’ll do it. I swear I will do it with a fucking smile on my face because I want lazy Sunday mornings and midnight Christmas Eves with you.

“I want to fight over who gets to change the shitty diaper and I want to be there, really be there, when you win the US Open…not hiding in the stands….I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just…I needed to be close to you. I’m begging you––please just give me one last chance.”