Delayed (2 page)

Olivia uncrossed her legs. She began to play with the keychain in her carry-on. It felt cold to the touch. Before she could take it out, a boy walked out of the bathroom. He held a ball of used tissues in one hand, and a messenger bag in the other. His black hair sprouted in all directions. He resembled a puppy, short and lost, like he’d just made it out of a storm.
 

She could hear him sniffling as he walked past. Her hands tensed around the edges of the seat. Olivia had the same reaction when she was around anyone that cried. The only thing she felt was the urge to run in the opposite direction.
 

The boy stopped walking. She kept her eyes on his worn black sneakers. They spun in her direction.
 

He sniffled again.
 

Olivia finally looked up.
 

“Is that seat taken?” the boy asked, pointing to the spot where she had placed her bag.
 

2
 

June 3, 2004

The girl didn’t look away. Nick could feel himself losing whatever courage had pushed him to ask for the seat.
 

She kept her hands pressed in her lap, motionless.
 

“There’s a seat over there,” she said, using her chin to point to the row of empty seats across from her.
 

He wasn’t blind, but he wasn’t rude enough to say that out loud.
 

“Is
this
one taken, though?” he asked again.
 

The girl tilted her head and proceeded to look around the waiting area as if it were some hidden camera prank show. She raised her eyebrows, ready to say something more, but instead she leaned over and placed the carry-on bag on the floor.
 

“Not anymore,” she said.
 

Nick tugged at the strap of his backpack. He wiped another tear away from his cheek, not caring to see if the girl was staring at him. Every stranger that he’d passed that day had stared.
 

He just didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t trust that he would board the flight on his own.
 

The girl didn’t say anything. She kept fidgeting with something in her hand.
 

Nick wasn't the kind of person who approached strangers, least of all beautiful looking girls close to his age. He wondered how old she was. It wasn't his business of course.

“Please stop staring at me,” the girl whispered. She turned her gaze up, catching him in the act.
 

“I…”
 

She didn’t turn her gray eyes away. They were wide and near set.
 

“You what?”
 

Nick fisted the ball of tissue in his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually like this.”
 

He didn’t know what else to say. It was the truth, plain and simple.
 

The girl pressed lips together and narrowed her eyes at him.
 

“So if we met on any other day, I wouldn’t think you were weird?”
 

He shook his head. The tears on his cheek were already dried up.
 

“I would hope not.”
 

The girl looked off into the distance before letting her eyes rest on him.
 

“Okay. Then why did you sit here when there are about a hundred other places for you to go?”

Nick pressed his fingers in between the layers of wet tissue. He hadn't expected her to talk to him. He'd just wanted to sit next to someone who didn't look like they would care enough to ask questions.

“I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t want to sit next to the adults over there.”
 

The girl remained impartial. “Why?”
 

“They’ll ask why I’m crying.”
 

“Then don’t cry.”
 

“I wish it was that easy,” he said.
 

He swallowed and waited.
 

The girl kept her gaze on him. He wondered how much longer she planned to do that.
 

“What’s your name?” she asked him.
 

“Nick,” Nick whispered.
 

“How old are you, Nick?”
 

“Fourteen.”
 

She nodded to herself. “You’re short,” she said as though it were just another fact. “You don’t look fourteen, twelve at the most.”
 

Nick scrunched up his nose, not knowing what to make of the comment. He hadn’t been so caught off guard in the past two weeks. But for a moment it was gone; the emptiness he’d been feeling at the pit of his stomach, dissipated.
 

He knew he was short, the runt of the family, his dad liked to tease. He took after his mom’s side, skinny and petite, black hair and all.
 

“How old are you?” he asked her for the sake of continuing the conversation.
 

“Guess.”
 

“I’m not good at guessing.”
 

She gave him a soft grin. “A woman never reveals her age.”
 

But you’re not a woman
he wanted to say.
 

“What about a name?” he asked softly.
 

“Olivia,” the girl said. “My name’s Olivia.”
 

Nick liked the name. It suited her somehow. It was rounded and straightforward.
 

Olivia turned her head in the other direction then pulled out a phone from her bag. Her long ponytail of brown hair fell over her shoulders.
 

“Can you watch my bag for a second?” she asked.
 

Nick nodded before he could fully process the request. Olivia took her phone and walked into the bathroom.

He leaned his head back against the chair. The fabric felt like static on his cheek. He closed his eyes, taking in the sounds of chaos around him; heels tapping against linoleum, wheels rolling, babies crying, flight announcements, everything merged into background noise.
 

His flight would be leaving in an hour, with or without him. The last two had left without him. Nick had slept through the first, and hidden in the airport bathroom through the second. One of the unaccompanied minor agents had found him, and now he knew he couldn’t miss a third flight.
 

His dad had called him that morning, asking for him to board the next flight out to Boston. They could talk on the ride over to Glensford.
 

Nick didn't want to talk. That's all anyone had wanted to do for the last two weeks, talk. Family members and strangers alike made promises of how the difficult time would pass, and how he needed to be strong, for the sake of his sister.

“You’re the oldest one, Nicolas. Your dad needs you to set an example for Milagros,” his Abuela had said before he flew out to Shepton, almost a week before.
 

Mimi was nine. She didn’t need him to be strong. She needed her mother. He could feel the tears pooling in his eyes.

Someone tapped his shoulder. Nick opened his eyes.

Olivia stood over him, blocking his view of the bathrooms.
 

“Thanks for watching my bag,” she said. “My flight’s boarding soon.”
 

“Oh. Okay,” he said sitting up. “Where are you flying to?”
 

“Boston,” she said.
 

He could feel a bit of hope rising in his chest. Maybe he wouldn’t have to be alone on his flight.
 

“Me too. What time does your flight leave?”
 

Olivia didn’t even stare down at her boarding pass. “Noon.”
 

Nick sat back. “Oh.” His flight left half an hour later.
 

She nodded again. “I should go.”
 

He picked up her bag and handed it to her. “Have a safe flight.”

“You too.” And with those final words she walked in the opposite direction.
 

Nick let his eyes linger on Olivia until she disappeared behind a crowd of people. The silence returned. He hated the silence. It made room for the thoughts he wanted to bury deep within himself.
 

It'd been two weeks, and he still didn't think it was real. It didn't feel real. Every time he woke up, he would tell himself that his mom was on a short trip, one of her weekend escapes. She'd taken him on a couple. Her favorite spot had been Shepton, Florida, the setting for her childhood.

Nick felt his phone vibrate. Crisis averted.
 

“Hello?” he cleared his throat twice.
 

“Nick I found a picture.” It was Mimi. Her voice trembled.
 

“What picture?”
 

“The one of mom in the hospital, the day before she shaved off all her hair.”
 

Nick swallowed down the urge to cry. He couldn’t, not with Mimi holding on to his every word.
 

“I remember taking it,” he said. His mind raced back to that a day, almost two years back.

“I miss her. I miss mommy,” Mimi took a breath. He could hear her sniffling on the other end. “I miss her so much.”
 

He couldn’t handle this. Not right now.
 

“Don't cry Mimi. Think of a happy memory.” Nick could hear his sister starting to choke back tears. He could feel his own eyes watering. A woman, a few seats down, was staring at him with the same pitying eyes everyone had been giving him for the last two weeks.

He blinked away the tears.

“Happy memories make me the saddest,” Mimi said.
 

Nick could feel himself breaking down again. How could she be gone? His mom had seemed so full of life at his birthday party. Then a few days later she’d just collapsed. The cancer had come back, and it was too late this time.
 

“It’s okay to be sad,” he said. “Cry until it feels better. I’ll be in Boston soon.”
 

He could hear his sister trying to talk past her tears. “It hurts when I cry, and it hurts when I don't. When is it going to stop hurting, Nick?”

He let the ball of tissues in his hand fall to the floor.
 

“Mimi I love you. I’ll call you when I land, okay?”
 

Mimi slowly caught hold of her breathing. “Okay.”
 

He hung up before his sister heard him break away from the facade he tried to keep around her. Nick got up, left his backpack on the floor, and ran to the bathroom.
 

 
He didn't try to reach a stall. The moment he stepped inside he let himself break down again. The tears fell automatically for a few minutes. It was just like Mimi had said. It hurt when he cried, but it hurt even more when he didn't.

Nick was able to compose himself sooner than before. He splashed cold water on his face then stuffed a wad of clean tissues into his pocket. He ran back out, remembering the lecture the unaccompanied minors agent had given him about unattended luggage.
 

Someone was sitting in his seat. Olivia gave him a short wave as he approached her.
 

He tilted his head. “I thought you had to board your flight.”
 

She had his backpack on her lap. “It got delayed, something about malfunctioning motors. I got moved to the next available flight.”
 

 
Nick hesitated before finally taking the seat next to her. “Thanks for watching my stuff.”
 

“We’re even now,” Olivia said. She tossed him his backpack. The silence returned.
 

He scratched the back of his neck. There had to be a way to keep some semblance of a conversation going. “Why are you going to Boston?”
 

Her eyes widened at the question. A quick flash of something passed over her expression, before disappearing.
 

“I’m spending the summer with my dad,” she said coolly. “What about you?”
 

“I live in Boston. I’m coming back from visiting my grandparents,” Nick said. Technically it was the truth. He was in Shepton to help his Grandma Joan sort through his mom’s childhood things. His dad wanted to have pictures and keepsakes at the funeral. At least, that had been the cover up story to get Nick to fly out to Florida.

“Oh. Small world.”
 

He could feel the conversation fading away. “Why are you in Shepton?” he asked.
 

It took him all of a second to realize he’d asked the wrong question. Nick tried to backtrack.
 

“Nevermind.”
 

"My parents are getting a divorce. My mom wants a new start, so she got a job here in Shepton, fifteen hundred miles away from my dad. Now I'm stuck flying back and forth until the court decides who gets primary custody of me."

“Oh.”
 

Olivia leaned back in her chair. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as whatever you’re not telling me.”
 

Nick froze. Was he supposed to tell this strange girl everything now? How could he summarize everything he felt, everything he’d been through, into a few sentences?
 

My mom died.
 

My mom passed away.
 

There was no way of putting it together without sounding completely morbid.
 

“Don’t tell me. I’m better off not knowing,” Olivia said. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Let’s just wait for our flight to board.”
 

Nick nodded. He didn’t mind the short bit of silence that followed. Soon they were boarding their flight. Olivia didn’t say anything while they waited in line, or even when they ended up sitting right next to each other in the back of coach.
 

The two of them sat in silence until he could no longer tolerate it.

Nick turned to the girl who was still a complete stranger to him and without hesitation he said, “I’ll tell you, if you're willing to listen."