I could see him helping me out to my mum’s car with my suitcase, putting it down next to me and hugging me—which isn’t unusual, because we’re big huggers—and as we pull apart he stands, a little closer than usual, just gazing down at me. Then maybe he reaches up and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear (I told you I had a tendency to romanticize), and there’s this jolt in my stomach as the smile leaves his face, and then he’ll shake his head with that twisty smile he does, and his face will move closer, and although he knows this is a bad idea he just won’t be able to help himself, and then we’ll be kissing, and he won’t want me to leave.
Of course, I will leave, and then he’ll miss me so desperately that by the time I get back from Nantucket he will realize he has fallen madly, but madly, in love with me, cannot live without me, and the rest of my life after that will be one great big fairy tale, lived together, in sobriety and love.
Then there’s the second part of my fantasy, which is landing in Nantucket to have my family all come to the airport to meet me, maybe with homemade welcome signs, which I would find completely mortifying but would secretly be thrilled about.
My dad’s going to take me in his arms and I’m going to feel safe, and exactly where I belong, and Ellie and Julia are going to be instant best friends, we’re going to sit in the car on the way to the house and none of us are going to be able to stop talking, unable to believe how alike we are, and the rest of my life will be … well. Yes. You probably already guessed, one great big fairy tale.
I have to say, the farewell with Jason didn’t quite go as planned. He’d been haranguing me slightly about making sure I find meetings on Nantucket, but honestly, there’d been so much to do I hadn’t actually got round to it. I did find a number for some AA service place in Massachusetts, and I had been meaning to call to find out more info, but life got in the way, and I had looked it up online, but I forgot to go back and revisit the site, and all in all it hadn’t been a priority. Even though he apologized this morning and said he wouldn’t ask anymore, that it was up to me and he couldn’t control what I did or didn’t do, I could tell he was pissed off.
All of which didn’t feel very good. I hate that feeling of knowing someone is unhappy, particularly the man you are pretending is your new best friend when actually you have a giant crush on him.
We chatted, obviously, as I raced around my flat, making sure I had my passport, my money, but it felt perfunctory, and a little forced. When my mum phoned to say she was on her way, he apologized. He said he was just nervous for me, that going away on a big trip, particularly one with such an emotional component, was a much bigger deal than I seemed to realize, and he was worried I’d fall off the wagon and lose everything I’ve gained in the weeks we’d spent time together.
I reassured him I was going to be fine, and things were easier after that, but our hug good-bye did not involve any simmering, longing looks, or tucking hair behind an ear, or anything other than a completely platonic hug and kiss on the cheek.
Yes, I was disappointed.
So now I’m on the plane replaying all of that stuff, and when I’m bored of that, I’m projecting meeting my family, but I’m realizing I really have to stop, because there’s absolutely no point, and all that I’m doing is setting myself up for disappointment.
I pull out the book I bought at the airport and, with great effort, manage to stop the squirrels in my head for the next hour.
I love flying. I love airplane food, in compartmentalized trays. I even love puffy synthetic sponge cakes for dessert that taste of little other than chocolate that has been artificially manufactured in a factory somewhere. I love gloppy sauces on chicken breasts, and dull, overcooked green beans.
I love that you have absolutely nowhere else to be other than captive on a great big soothing plane. I love how