Deranged Delusions

24. Goodbye May Seem Forever

I woke up today with that terrible feeling in my stomach. The feeling that no matter how good you think the day will turn out, you know something is going to go horribly wrong. I know she isn’t going to come. I know she probably threw out that envelope as soon as she got back to her house and she’s probably sleeping in, wrapped up in her comforter and not caring that I’m sitting in a golf cart, zooming for the private jet that’s supposed to whisk me away to the States.

“You okay, man? You’re white as a sheet,” Trace points out in the seat next to me as the cart takes me closer and closer to the jet that’s going to put an ocean and an entire country between Lauren and me. “She’s going to be here.”

Somehow Trace’s last minute optimism isn’t helping.

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I know you, and I know Lauren. She’ll be here. We’ve got half an hour until the plane takes off and I know that she’s going to get on that plane and the two of you can go back to your house and have your fucking happily ever after. Trust me.”

For the first time in my life, I don’t trust Trace.

Lauren looked stunning last night. She looked really good and she didn’t look a mess. A part of me thought she’d be a mess proving once and for all that she can’t live without me. But she was so put together when Trace brought her over and I had half the mind to turn around and run away because she just looked so…damn intimidating. But I knew I was there for a reason and I wasn’t going to back down until I said what I needed to be said and to give her the plane ticket.

A plane ticket that, I’m sure, is sitting at the bottom of her trashcan.

But there was that one moment where she started to cry during my crazy long speech that I had rehearsed time and time again on the car ride over to the party. Granted everything I had wanted to say flew out the window the moment I saw her and all that came out was a jumbled attempt at an apology and me telling her how I really feel.

I hope she got the message.

My grip tightens on the bouquet of roses on my lap and I look over at Trace with a pained expression. I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous in my life and I have Lauren to thank.

“What happens if she isn’t on the plane?” I ask Trace for about the hundredth time and he sighs heavily and rolls his eyes, something that reminds me of Lauren. God, I have got to get my mind off of this whole thing!

“Justin we’ve been over and over this. She’ll come running up the stairs to the plane right when they’re about to close the door. You’re going to pull her in, give her the flowers, she’ll confess her undying love for you, and then you’ll proceed to make out the entire flight home. Believe me, she’s going to make you wait and suffer and as soon as you see her, you aren’t going to care anymore. Its pretty much foolproof,” Trace explains with a causal air as the cart finally pulls up in front of the plane.

I give him a look of doubt before I pick up the flowers and jump off the back of the cart. Trace makes his way over to a group of people who are no doubt in charge of flying the plane and taking care of it. I don’t know what they’re talking about, probably discussing how long it’s going to take to get from Heathrow to Los Angeles.

Quite frankly, if Lauren isn’t on this plane they might as well crash it in the Atlantic. It sounds bad and terrible, but if I can’t be with her then I would rather go down in a fiery inferno.

“It’s going to take us a couple hours longer to get to LA so one of the co-pilots is going to stock up a few more DVDs for us to watch,” Trace explains as he walks over to me. He hoists his carry on over his shoulder and gives me a worried glance. Leave it to Trace to know when something is exceedingly wrong.

“Do you remember how I told you in the car that if Lauren didn’t come I’d be okay with it?” I asked Trace as we made our way for the airplane.

“Yeah?”

“I was totally bullshitting you. I want you to throw me off the plane once it takes off,” I add. My mouth is totally dry and I feel like I’m going to be sick to my stomach. I almost want to duck my head into the flowers and throw up all over them, but I don’t think Lauren would want that. That is if she’s coming.

“Come on, man,” Trace encourages as he drapes an arm over my shoulders, “Everything is going to turn out for the best. Just watch.”

I don’t want to watch. I just want to fast forward to when we’re forty thousand miles in the air and I’m either the happiest man in the world or…completely heartbroken.

“You’re just being all negative because you don’t want to get your hopes up. You can get your hopes up because she is going to be here!” Trace enthuses and I give him a skeptical look before I start up the steps that will take me into the cabin of the aircraft.

It’s a pretty sweet jet. I mean it’s private and all; but is by no means mine. It’s one of those Rent-A-Planes and it saves me a shit load of money, which I’m happy about. And then there’s no one trying to get into first class to gawk at me or something equally as awkward. It’s the only way to fly in my opinion although I don’t think I’ll be doing much of anything should Lauren not be here.

I need to stop thinking about this. I need to watch a movie, I need to play a game, I need something to fucking do! I sit down in the first comfortable leather chair I can plant my butt in and my face immediately goes to the window so I can watch everything that’s happening on the tarmac. I refuse to miss her joyous arrival and I want to be the first person to spots her.

Trace is still outside talking to the pilots and stuff and another person comes running up with a bag full of what I assume are DVDs and other things that can offer us entertainment while we wait for take off. Apparently they’re still fuelling the plane and I’m ready to rush off to the bathroom to get rid of breakfast.

“Calm down, dude,” Marty says behind me. He along with Trace, Rachel, Ken, and my style team are all on the plane ready to take it back to the States. There’s about eight in all on a plane that seats ten. I’m kinda happy that I’m not on a full flight because I don’t think I’ll be able to deal with a lot of people shooting me pity looks the whole way home.

“I can’t calm down. I need a drink,” I mutter and Marty is quick to respond. He returns a few minutes later with a mixed drink and I down it in one gulp. I’m not going to get drunk, but it sure as hell feels good to know that I can turn to one thing for comfort and it won’t give some kind of pity party.

“It’s all good, J,” Marty explains, “You know she’ll be here.” This is weird coming from Marty because he and Lauren haven’t exactly been on the best of terms while she was working with me. I’m kind of surprised that he’s all for her coming back, but then again I am his boss and when I’m not happy, he gets stiffed out of a good paycheck.

“I hope so.”

Trace bounds up the steps and rushes inside the plane with the bag that was handed to him. I glance down nervously at my watch and see that we’ve got about fifteen minutes until eleven o’clock and our scheduled take off. I’m beginning to suspect that Trace’s scenario is going to play out. Lauren is always punctual but I’m sure she’ll be late just this once to make me squirm.

“So I’ve got a couple of good movies here. What do you want?” Trace questions and I shrug with indifference before I look at my best friend and sigh heavily. I pass Marty my empty glass and he takes it as an indication to fill up my glass again.

“I want one where shit blows up. Lots and lots of shit…”

“Dude, that isn’t sanitary at all,” Trace jokes as he makes a face of disgust. I give him a scathing look and roll my eyes. I turn around to see Marty standing by the small bar by another pair of seats, mixing my drink. Thank God for him. My hands are shaking so bad I don’t think I could button up a shirt let alone pour a drink for myself.

“Shut the fuck up Trace. You know what I mean. I want a movie where buildings blow up, people blow up, just lots of stuff blowing up!” I’m getting antsy and frustrated and Trace pissing around isn’t helping my shot nerves at all.

“Okay, well how about whole cities? I’ve got Independence Day…”

“Yeah that works,” I snap before I snatch the drink out of Marty’s hand. I am so not in the mood to be dealing with any of this. I want to call her, but I don’t have her number and I don’t want to seem like a nuisance. I don’t want to have her pick up right when she’s deciding on whether or not she should go and have my voice make her realize that being with me is stupid and…

Jesus, please kill me now.

Trace puts the movie in and I try my best to get involved with the film, but I’m still checking my watch every other minute and soon we’ve got five minutes until they finish fuelling up the plane and the door closes. My heart is pounding right out of my chest and I think this is what it feels like to have a heart attack. Will Smith’s face fills up the television screen in front of me and I try my best to make smart ass comments at the screen, but my thoughts wander off to Lauren and how wonderful she looked last night and how she probably doesn’t need me anymore.

The pilots are boarding the plane.

Oh God I am so nervous.

They smile at the group of us in the cabin and enter the cockpit, closing the door behind them. Everyone is watching me with bated breath because I think they know that at any second I am going to snap. And I think I am. I really do think this will be the first and only time that I completely lose control and go bat shit crazy.

If she’s not here…I don’t know what I’ll do.

“Trace, please shoot me now,” I request and Trace just rolls his eyes and turns off the movie. Jeff Goldblum and an arguing president disappear and we’re left with silence, the only sound is the whirring of the jet engines as they come to life.

“Don’t sweat, Justin, she’ll be here,” but I can hear the worry edging in his voice and I can appreciate him trying to be brave for me, but he doesn’t need to do it anymore. I know she isn’t coming.

“I’m not so sure…”

“Don’t doubt it, J. She’s coming, I can feel it. Have I ever been wrong on a feeling before?”

I don’t even want to think about all the times that Trace has been right about things because my forehead is too busy being glued to the window, watching for the running figure at the far end of the tarmac. I know there’s going to be a figure, running to catch up with the plane, and it’s going to be Lauren. I just know it. It’s going to happen!

“Seatbelts everyone!” Ken quips from the back and I find myself doing the exact opposite. My belt is off, the flowers are thrown on my seat and I’m knocking on the cockpit door.

“Can you open up please?” I ask frantically and after waiting for two antagonizing seconds, the door is opened and a very nervous looking co-pilot is staring up at me. I think he might be smaller than Trace, but I can’t think about that right now.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Yeah, um…I know this is a big request, but can you please keep the door open for at least five more minutes? I’m expecting someone and she’s running a few minutes late. Can you please keep it open for five more minutes?” I all but beg. I’m crossing all my fingers and toes and praying, praying, praying that this guy says yes. If he doesn’t I just might have to sock him.

“Certainly sir. We can wait for five more minutes but after that I’m afraid we’re going to have to proceed with our take off procedures.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” I turn around and grab the flowers and walk towards the door. The stairs are still there and I sit down on the top rung, holding onto the flowers and watching the bustling Heathrow airport. The clouds are hanging low and there’s definitely a threat of rain in the air. How fitting.

Planes are taking off and landing and my eyes are still trained on the place where our golf cart came from. I’m staring so hard I’m squinting and everything becomes a blur. I won’t be surprised if I pop a vessel in my brain with the way I’m focusing…

A hand lands on my shoulders and I turn around and see the co-pilot standing above me. It can’t already be five minutes, can it?

“Sir, we must take off now.”

“No! Please, give me another five minutes! I promise she’ll be here in five minutes!”

“I’ll put in a word with the tower. Maybe you should call your friend?” he offers and I want to tell him that I can’t call her because that wouldn’t be good at all and now my frustration is growing.

How can she be so heartless to string me along like this? How can she keep me waiting? Unless something bad happened and she got into a car accident on the way over here. Or something as equally appalling happened. Oh Jesus, what if she's hurt? What if she's lying somewhere bleeding in a ditch? What then? I could never forgive myself if I left and she was coming here because she loves me and she ended up getting seriously injured in a car accident or something.

Before I know it a hand lands on my shoulder again and I look up to see Trace standing there. I know what this means. They have to leave now and so they sent Trace out here because I won’t beat him up like I would the co-pilot.

“Justin, the pilot is getting upset. We have to leave now.”

“Can we just wait five more minutes?” I plead. I have never felt so pitiful in my life. “Please?”

“J they’re on a schedule. They can’t stay any longer. Come on, let’s go back inside and maybe we can try calling Lauren when we land in LA.”

But I don’t want to call her when we get back to California. I want her to be with me now. In my arms, now. Telling me that she loves me now. Calling her from California and having her tell me that she doesn’t love me and that was the reason why she wasn’t there is just adding more nails into my already closed coffin. I can’t do that to myself. And I can’t do that to her.

Trace manages to get me back into the plane and I watch with a heavy heart as an airport employee drives the stairs away from the plane and one of our attendants closes the door, sealing it tight.

That’s it – she’s not here. She made her choice and I have never felt more lost in my life.

“Don’t give up hope yet, Justin. She could still pull a ‘Run-After-The-Plane’ thing…” Trace says with optimism in his voice that I wish I could have right now. But then again, he is right.

I shouldn’t give up hope until we’re at cruising altitude. Then I can have Trace throw me out of the plane and maybe, by some Grace of God, I’ll fall down on Lauren walking somewhere in London and kill her too. Take that, bitch.

The co-pilot goes over the flight procedures and I’m not even listening. My face is still glued to the window in hopes that Lauren will make a gallant effort to run after the plane, but she isn’t coming.

And the plane starts its final charge down the runway, and my heart has stopped beating.

We pull into the sky and I’m thrown back against my seat, the roses still sitting in my lap. I want to smack someone across the face with them. Trace is the closest and I do believe he is going to be bitch slapped by a heartbroken guy a couple thousand miles up in the air. How many people can say they had that happen to them?

Then again, how many people can say they’ve been stood up on an airplane after they’ve given their entire heart and soul to one person?

Yeah, not a lot.

“This is your co-pilot speaking and we have now reached our cruising altitude of thirty-eight thousand feet. So sit back, relax, and enjoy your flight.”

Yeah I’ll enjoy my mother fucking flight all right.

“Justin,” Trace begins, his voice so quiet you can hardly hear it above the purring of the engines. He knows he’s walking on glass and he’s right to assume that. I think everyone in the plane knows that they’re in an enclosed space with a starved animal that will attack at any small movement.

“What?” my voice is hollow and desolate and I have never felt so…let down in my life. “What do you want?”

“I-I’m sorry, man. I was wrong.”

“You bet your ass you were wrong. Jesus Christ,” I mutter under my breath and I punch the side of the plane. Hard. I swear loudly and lean over onto Trace, trying my best to keep the tears from falling. I’m not doing a very good job because all I can see is her face swimming in front of me like I’ve just gotten hit in the head by a mallet. You know, like in those stupid cartoons that I can’t stand? Yeah, the last thing I need are little Laruens  swimming around my line of vision.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well sorry doesn’t bring her here now does it?”

“No. And I’m sorry. I really thought she was going to be here.”

“Would you stop fucking apologizing, Trace? Just leave me the fuck alone!” I snap. He looks hurt, but he can’t be feeling as bad as I do right now. Nodding slowly, he gets up out of his seat and walks to the back of the plane, no doubt to converse quietly with the rest of the group about how fucked up Lauren is for standing me up like this.

Five minutes later, I’m still staring straight in front of me and wondering how she could be so heartless. Trace enters my line of sight and walks into the bathroom at the front of the plane. Sighing loudly, I lean forward and rest my head in my lap, letting the flowers fall unceremoniously to the floor. I don’t need them anymore and I can’t even stand to look at them.

I was so stupid to think that she actually cared for me the way I do for her. I was insane to believe that she would look past the person I was when we first met and see someone who would love her and cherish her for all the things she did and didn’t do. It was delusional…<i>I</i> was delusional and I still am. But that’s slowly starting to fade into obscurity and hopefully that means I’ll be able to move on.

Who am I kidding? I’m even more of a mess.

“God,” I mutter to myself as I stare at the ground. I’m furiously blinking back tears and…why is this so hard?

The rustling of the plastic wrapping around the flowers moves and I don’t even have the heart to look up to watch Trace pick them up. A tear falls down onto the ground and melts into the carpet and I know that there’s plenty more where that came from. The plastic rustles again, this time more insistently and I’m going to kill Trace.

“Trace would you stop it? I don’t want those damn flowers.”

“I don’t know they look kinda pretty to me.”

My head shoots up, my eyes bug out of my head, and Lauren is standing in front of me, holding onto her bouquet of roses a smile plastered on her face.

I rocket to my feet and stare at her and I know the color has completely drained from my face. I can’t even breathe right and I think my heart has picked up an irregular way of beating because it is thumping however the fuck it pleases in my chest.

“Lauren?” I manage to gasp out even though my head is telling me not to speak. This is just too…weird. “What the fuck are you doing here? You didn’t get on the plane.”

“I called Marty, he made sure I got on the plane before you guys got here.”

“Fucker!” Trace yelps from behind me and I turn around to see Marty smiling triumphantly at me, still holding my glass of alcohol in his hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you would have opened up your mouth, which is surprisingly big for such a small body,” Lauren quips and I find myself laughing at Trace’s look of indignation on his face. All thoughts of this being a dream fade away because in my dreams, Lauren doesn’t say much and she definitely doesn’t open her mouth to make smart ass comments at my friends.

But that’s one of the reasons why I love her so much.

“I honestly thought you weren’t going to show up. Like, when the plane took off…I think everyone on the ground could hear my heart breaking,” I murmur and she reaches out to close the distance between us and takes hold of my hand.

“I almost didn’t. That’s why I decided to show up early to see if you were serious about this. If you weren’t, you would have gotten over it by the time you got to LA and I would wait until you got off the plane and then I’d catch a flight back to London and go on with my life. I was going to wait until we were halfway there, but you looked so damn miserable…”

“It was a pretty shitty thing to do,” I shoot back and I want to just stop the words coming out of my mouth because the last thing I need is another fight while everything is falling so neatly into place.

“But I had to be sure. I wasn’t about to walk into this blindly and hope that you were going to change and not be a complete jack ass…”

“Well I thought my showing up at that party and pouring my heart out was enough to show you that I did change.”

“Oh Jesus, here we go again,” Trace mutters and I throw him a scathing look before I turn back towards Lauren who is still holding onto my hand although her grip has tightened considerably.

“You’re always barging into my life with oh so elegant words, and yeah I fell for them for the past few years, but I learned better and I wanted to make sure you were serious about this before I changed my life again according to what you want.”

“But is this what you want, Lauren? Do you want to be with me?”

“I wouldn’t be standing here in front of you if I didn’t.”

I pull on her arm hard and she stumbles forward but I’m there to catch her. Lauren effortlessly fits into my arms and she lets out a curse as the flowers escape her grasp and fall to the floor.

“I dropped your flowers,” she says with a small, nervous laugh.

“Does it look like I give a fuck about the flowers right now?” I whisper hoarsely. She shakes her head and just like that the roaring sound is back and I can’t stop kissing her. And this time there isn’t anything. It’s just us, and I couldn’t ask for anything better.

“And the eight hour make out session begins,” Trace sighs dramatically but I really don’t care what the fuck he thinks right now. He can go watch movies with everyone else, I’m perfectly content to stand here with Lauren, kissing her, and knowing that she’s finally mine. Nope, I will stand right here…at least until the captain turns on the ‘Fasten Seatbelt’ Sign.

“Lauren,” I mutter against her lips after a few more minutes of glorious lip on lip action.

“Mmm?” she hums before she starts to kiss my neck, her tongue tracing small circles along the edge of my collared shirt. If she keeps this up, I might have to go pay a visit to the Mile High Club.

“Can you go to the galley and make me a sandwich?” The words have a huge effect on her because she stops kissing me immediately and pulls away, looking at me incredulously.

“Excuse me? Look you delusional son of a bitch if you think I’m crazy enough to make you a sand…”

“Lauren…” I interrupt and she gives me another scathing look.

“What?”

“I was just kidding,” I quip before she rolls her eyes and I capture her lips with mine once more. She breaks away almost immediately and I can feel my heart come to a screeching halt. Oh God, hopefully I didn’t piss her off too much. The last thing I need is to share a plane with a pissed off Lauren. Everyone would be dead.

“Kidding or not, my coming back does not mean I’m working for you.”

“I know that, Lo-ho,” I’m not that stupid. I wouldn’t dare jeopardize what I have with her, especially when it’s this fragile.

“And that has to stop, too. No more Lo-ho.”

“As long as you quit with the Timberfuck,” I retort and she throws her head back and laughs loudly.

“But it suits you so well. Like how Troll fits with Trace.”

“I heard that!” he shoots from the back of the plane. Of course he’d be listening in on the conversation, it is Trace after all.

“Maybe you’ll find out how well it suits me when we land,” I whisper seductively in her ear and I grin against it when I feel her shiver in my arms. Yeah, I still got it.

“Hmm, that a promise?” she whispers in an exceedingly husky voice and I want to throw her down on the floor right now. I <i>would</i> if it were my plane.

“You know it,” I murmur back before I kiss her again.

And just like that, we soar into paradise.

The End.

***