With Maddy in the store and Tanya and Dylan resting at the seating area right next to our gate, I pull my phone into my palm and call my uncle. After a few rings, he answers, his voice calm and the reassurances already scripted and spilling from his mouth.
“Will, I’m so glad you called before takeoff. How’s the airport? Busy? I heard it was a busy travel day,” he starts immediately.
It’s a Thursday—an uneventful, midsummer weekday—our flight isn’t even full. My uncle is full of shit, but I love him for his effort.
“It’s fine, listen…something’s come up,” I say.
“Will, you can do this. It’s just like our flight from Michigan,” he interrupts.
“No, that’s not it. I’m getting on the plane. It’s a different issue,” I say, pulling my hand up to pinch the bridge of my nose. “Maddy insisted on coming.”
I can practically hear my uncle’s smile.
“She shouldn’t have, so stop celebrating,” I say.
“I’m not celebrating,” he chuckles.
“Sure you aren’t,” I say.
“Okay, maybe a little. And why shouldn’t she have? She’s a grown woman, and I’m sure Tanya could use the extra help,” he says. “You wouldn’t let me come, so think of it as if she’s taking my place.”
“Right…because you and Maddy are so similar,” I laugh out.
“She got you to the gate, didn’t she?” he says. I pull my mouth up on one side, rubbing my palm along my cheek as I nod.
“Yeah,” I breathe.
He’s right. My uncle and Maddy are the only two people who have been able to get me this far when it comes to airports. Granted, my flight to Indiana with my uncle also included a near arrest, when I threatened to walk off the plane as we were taxiing, and a close-up view of a Taser from a TSA agent. My uncle assured them I would be fine, and then he proceeded to beg me to “keep my shit together” for the entire hour flight. We almost came to blows a dozen times. I hope Maddy’s really up for this.
“So where’s the car?” my uncle asks.
“It’s in hourly parking, on the north end. I’m sorry, I know you hate driving on the highways,” I say.
“Bahhhh, no problem. I have the extra key, and I’ll Uber there and take surface streets back,” he says.
That trip will take him twice as long.
“I’m really sorry,” I say, meaning it. I feel like I need to say it to everyone…for lots of things.
“Don’t be. Just use this time wisely. Maybe man up, too, and tell that girl all of those things you’ve been holding on to for way too long,” he says.
I breathe in through my nose and slightly regret the confessions I’ve made to this old man. He’s the only rock I have, though. And I’ve needed a good rock.
“Maybe,” I say.
“Chicken shit,” he says, coughing with his laugh as he hangs up the phone.
As if she knew we were talking about her, Maddy slides into the seat next to me the second I put my phone back in my pocket, a smirk on her face and a slant to her eyes that she only gets when she’s planning on pranking someone or leaving them in the dust in a race.
“What’s that look for?” I lean away and twist in my chair, my guard up, but my pulse slowing a little more.
She turns to face me, bringing one knee up, then plops a plastic bag in her lap from the gift shop she just ducked into, her hands diving into the plastic and concealing whatever’s inside. Her grin grows, and she raises her eyebrows once before unveiling her big surprise.
“Pop Rocks!” she says emphatically. I’m not sure how to react, so I end up bunching my shoulders to my ears and raising my eyebrows to match hers. Her smile deflates a little.
“Sorry,” I say, taking the grape packet from her hands and tearing the edge open. “You’re trying. I’m grateful.”
“No, it’s okay. I just saw them at the counter, and it reminded me of that time when we were working the snack bar at the club.”
I stop with the packet at my lips and laugh at the memory she triggers.
“They came out through Evan’s nose,” I chuckle.
“He was so upset,” she says, pouring a handful into her palm. Her eyes connect with mine, and we both begin to count down from three.
I tilt my head and fill my mouth with the purple candies while Maddy pushes her palm to her lips and eats the red ones. Seconds later, we both stare at one another with open mouths, listening to the crackle, smiling as if I weren’t about to climb aboard my literal death trap and she weren’t about to see me at my worst. Our lips twitch while be both stifle our laughter, and eventually Maddy gives in, closing her mouth and shaking her head.
“These are truly awful,” she says, her mouth bending with bitterness as she swallows them and reaches into the plastic bag for a bottle of water, twisting the lid and gulping down nearly half to wash the taste away.
“I think they’re one of those things where the memory is better than the reality,” I say, swallowing mine. My words bring her eyes to mine, and her smile softens.
My gaze falls to her arm, and without pause, I reach out for her hand. She gives hers back willingly, and I thread our fingers together, reminding myself repeatedly not to grip so hard that I break her.