Waves - Book #2 [completed]

46 ~ Quatervois Part TWO

It was only a question of time. I'd planned to tell her soon. But I wanted to wait for the right moment. The right mood. I wanted her to be happy when I told her. I'm not a big planner, but I knew I needed to at least plan ahead in this regard a little, taking care of the how and when because I didn't want to scare or overwhelm her. I wanted her to know I mean it.

And now I did exactly the opposite. I left her standing in an airport departure terminal after buying a ticket to fly to the other side of the world. How must she feel now? Even more alone?

Or, maybe, she doesn't believe my words, thinking it was a 'spur of the moment' reaction from an emotionally wound-up guy who worries about his father.

I should've told her yesterday when I held her in my arms, feeling content like a little idiot.

I wish she could've come with me but I don't even know if she still has a passport.

I want to call her so bad and talk things over. Not that I particularly would want to do it via phone, but that's the only option available since I'm stuck in a metal tube for the foreseeable future.

Thing is, after running down to the gate, I was the last person to get on the plane, earning stares and annoyed headshakes, and had to switch off my phone immediately for take-off. Arriving in Auckland, there was enough time to call her. In theory. But in reality, I remembered that it's still freezing cold in New York and so I bought two hoodies in two different sizes from a random store in hopes that stacked on top of each other they'd help to conquer the weather once I arrive. Wearing my day-old chinos, I at least got a long pair of pants on my body.

Now, the plane is dark and mostly quiet since dinner was served about an hour ago. I didn't touch my food. Too nervous, too jittery was my stomach. My mind paces into all kinds of directions and no direction at all.

You'd think that a sixteen-hour flight would give you enough time to come up with a game plan, but when the plane touches down in Newark my head feels empty. I haven't slept for thirty hours and don't remember anything.

I barrel through passport control, the terminal, almost mowing over a group of elderly ladies before stepping out into the breezy, cold and polluted air of a rough and rainy New Jersey evening,

Winning the chase for a cap against an arrogant looking businessman in a too tight suit, I sit back for the one-hour trip into the city and grab my phone for the first time in, for me, ages.

The battery is about to die, but I manage to grab the hospital information for my dad and fire off a message to the Connor Head group chat that's exploding with messages, expressions of worry about my whereabouts and pictures. I manage to tell them about my safe arrival in New York before my phone dies.

Cursing under my breath, I shove the useless black screen into my pocket and stare out the window. New York's skyline isn't visible behind low hanging, grey rain clouds, and thick fog. The normally bright, blinking lights of the city that never sleeps are only vaguely perceptible in the distance.

Exhaustion gets the best of me as the cap creeps through the thick New York traffic. I close my eyes for a moment as the unease I felt before leaving New York creeps back in. I wish I were back in Australia. I've learned to love the small town of Connor Head with everything it lacks and has to offer. I've become accustomed to the quiet, to the tranquility of the soft waves and natural sounds of the birds. To the absence of traffic and unnatural noise.

I love my family, I really do, and I want to be with them – especially now. But if I'm honest with myself, I can't wait to get back to the coast. To Riley.

I went to Australia to blow off steam, wait until the dust of my career ending has settled and find a plan for what I want to do with it when I thought it was over. I came to enjoy the summer there, have fun and sex and drink after wallowing in my own pathetic misery.

I still don't know what to do with my music career. But I discovered who I want to be as a person. I found myself. I found out what I want from life. And sure a fat bank account helps to ease things up, but what I want more than anything is to be with Riley.

I found the best thing – love. And I wasn't even looking for it. Didn't even know I needed it.

And I left.

The cab stops abruptly, and I jerk forward in my seat, almost face-planting into the back of the headrest. Confused, I look outside the window, recognizing the huge entrance and long stretch of the skyscraper that is the Presbyterian hospital. I tab my credit card against the reader, tip the driver and push open the door, stepping into the fumy air of New York City.

The smell of rain on the asphalt lingers heavy in the moist air around me, and cold seeps through my three layers and into my bones. I must've moved too slow because there are two horns blaring behind the taxi when I slam the door closed and hike my hood up.

I feel unwelcome here. Stressed and achy.

I breeze through the heavy, splash spattered sliding doors and ask a security guard for directions. He tilts his head and looks at me intently as if he knows me from somewhere. Somewhere between arriving in Australia and falling in love with Riley, I forgot that I'm somewhat famous here.

"You look familiar," the guy tells me after giving me directions.

"I have an ordinary face," I tell him while already turning and heading up to the eighteenth floor as I was told. Apart from the flight, I haven't been this high up in a couple months, I realize.

Upstairs, the elevator releases me into a sterile looking and smelling white hallway. It's eerie quiet up here until a scene straight from Grey's Anatomy unfolds before me. White metal double doors swing open and several people in scrubs and white coats pushing a patient bed rush past me, shouting words I've never heard in my life.

I press myself against the wall, waiting for them to pass and spot two familiar blonde heads of hair in the distance.

A heavy sigh escapes my sister when she sees me. She speed-walks the eight hundred feet distance between us. "Thank God you're here," she cries and flies into my arms.

~~~
a/n:
Sorry for being so quiet here. I had other plans. More plans. Bigger things planned. I promise. But I have a new job. And while it's exciting it's extremely demanding and stressful so I hadn't quite had the time to write.
Still, I hope you enjoyed the update. 🥰🥰
Love,
Izzy