Flying (23 page)

Finally it buzzed in her hand. “Tristan. Hi.”

“Mom! Did you see the picture of the sweet car Dad got me?” Tristan paused, then sounded puzzled. “How come you came home early?”

“Oh...I wanted to. That’s all.” She closed her eyes against a fresh spate of tears, ones of relief this time, and of a love so fierce it threatened to consume her.

They chatted for only a few more minutes, with Stella mostly listening while Tristan rhapsodized about the car. By the time he finished, the sick feeling in her gut hadn’t abated by much, but she’d managed to get it under control. After confirming what time he’d be home tomorrow, Tristan said goodbye.

Then, “I’ll give you a ride, Mom. We can go out to dinner. My treat.”

A sudden image of him in a pair of short overalls and saddle shoes, a binky in his mouth and a stuffed bear in his hands, assaulted her. Those days were over. He was growing up.

And she had to let him.

Sleep, surprisingly, came easy after they disconnected, and with nothing to do the next day, Stella didn’t bother to set her alarm. The buzzing of the phone, which wouldn’t ring while settled in the dock, jerked her from sleep, and she grabbed at it with blind hands. Frantic. She couldn’t remember what she’d been dreaming, but her mind at once had turned to bad news.

“What is it? What happened?”

“You said you’d call me when you got home.” The slurred voice was barely recognizable as Matthew’s.

Stella rubbed at her eyes, checking the clock.
Shit.
It felt as if she’d been sleeping forever.

“Sorry,” she said.

“I was worried, Stella.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, more sincerely this time. She knew what it was like to worry.

When he didn’t answer, she listened hard. There was noise in the background, not the TV or music playing, but the clink of glasses and murmur of voices. It was just past two in the morning. She lay back on her pillows.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“I’m at the bar where we met.”

Stella frowned. “At the airport?”

“Yes.”

“What are you doing there?” The slur in his voice curled her lip a little.

“Drinking.”

And what else was he doing? What had he been doing the night they’d met? Drinking and picking up women, maybe. Or one woman. All it would take was one.

“At the airport,” Stella said.

“Yeah. Yes. This place, here. It’s like Cheers. Everybody knows my name.”

She frowned. “Nice.”

“It is nice,” he said. “I was waiting for you to call me.”

“Why are you at the airport?” she asked again, confused. He could drink at home, or the neighborhood bar. But... “How’d you get through security without a ticket?”

“I got a ticket.”

Stella sat up in bed. “Why? Where are you going?”

“I was gonna come to Harrisburg.” It came out slushy.
Harrishburg.

A different sort of heat spiraled through her. Not embarrassment. Not arousal. Sort of fear, as if something terrible was about to happen. Or something miraculous.

“You were going to randomly fly to Harrisburg?”

“To see you,” Matthew said. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“So why aren’t you here?”

“I couldn’t make the flight.”

She thought about this, him wanting her so much he’d fly to her without even letting her know. Him wanting her that much. She didn’t want her pulse to quicken and heat to gather in her lower belly, but when she thought of the taste of him, the throb of his cock on her tongue, she slid a hand between her legs for a moment.

“And,” Matthew added, “I don’t know where you live.”

A burst of strangled laughter escaped her; she clamped her jaw tight to keep the hilarity inside. “That would make it hard, for sure.”

“You know what else is hard?”

Stella wasn’t falling for that one. “You’re drunk. Go home.”

“Wish you were here with me.”

She couldn’t stop herself from thrilling to that simple statement, no matter how irritated she’d been with him earlier. No matter how much the drink was influencing him...or not. She sighed.

“No, no, I’m good,” Matthew said, but not to her. “I’m going home now. Home alone, to my lonely bed. All alone.”

“Come to me next weekend,” Stella said impulsively. “I’ll tell you where I live and everything.”

Matthew muttered something into the phone, but she couldn’t tell what he’d said or if he meant it for someone else. Then, louder, he added, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. ’Kay?”

“Yes. Okay. You call me when you get home,” she told him. “I want to make sure you got in all right.”

“I’ll tell you I will. But maybe I won’t.”

She sighed. “Then call me tomorrow.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Tomorrow. Okay?”

“Matthew,” Stella said, not sure what she meant to say, but he’d already disconnected.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“So, you made it through your first fight.” Jen dug a chip into the queso sauce.

Stella sipped her iced tea. The waitress had tried valiantly to tempt her with an enormous margarita, but Stella’s appetite for liquor had waned considerably without Matthew there to encourage it. She shrugged.

“I’m not sure I’d call it a fight, exactly. I was upset, hormonal. Things hadn’t gone well. Trouble with his ex.”

Jen made a face. “Ugh.”

Ugh
was exactly the right word to use, as far as Stella was concerned. “Everything got awkward, that’s all. And now I haven’t heard from him for the whole week. Not a fucking word. Not a text, a call, a Kik, nothing. I sent him a message the next morning, checking to see if he was okay. He didn’t answer.”

“I hate that!”

“Me too. And I know he read the message, but he didn’t reply. I thought about sending another one, but...” Stella shrugged again.

“Hmm.” Jen bit into a cheesy-soaked chip. “That sucks.”

It did suck. The entire week, Stella had been left with a sick feeling in her stomach. “He’s ignoring me.”

“Fuck that noise,” Jen agreed.

Stella took her own chip, though in truth she wasn’t hungry and hadn’t been all week. “How do you go from ‘miss you, wish you were with me’ to just flat-out blowing someone off?”

“’Cause men are dicks,” Jen said cheerfully.

“He’s the one who brought up me being his girlfriend. He’s the one who invited me to come to visit him. He’s the one who said he’d been waiting for me to come back to that bar. I mean, he was probably full of shit. Maybe he says that to all the women he picks up there....”

But that didn’t feel right, and Stella knew it. Matthew had told her there hadn’t been anyone since his marriage, and she believed him. She didn’t think he was out there looking to get laid now. Maybe she was naive, but she’d done more than her share of flying. She knew what it felt like, how it made a person act. Matthew had never been like that with her.

“I’m sorry.” Jen frowned in sympathy.

“Me too. I thought... I don’t know what I thought.”

“You could try him again?”

Stella’s mouth thinned. “I don’t need to chase him.”

“No. Of course not. But you could just try him again. Maybe he thinks you’re mad at him.”

“And what if he blows me off again? What if he says he’s been busy?”

“Maybe he has been busy,” Jen said. “Not that it’s an excuse, but you know, dudes are stupid.”

“I hate games,” Stella said flatly. “I sent him a message. He didn’t answer it. I’m not some desperate, clinging, crazy bitch.”

“But you really like him. Don’t you?”

Stella sighed, deflating. “Yeah. I’m crazy about him, actually.”

“So, message him. See if he’ll come visit you. Just talk to him,” Jen urged. “The very worst that can happen is he’ll blow you off again, and honestly, if he already is, at least you know you tried. That doesn’t make
you
the asshole.”

It made sense, though Stella didn’t want to admit it. Right there at the table, she pulled out her phone and opened Kik. She sent off a brief,
Hey, how are you? Haven’t heard from you, hope all is well.
Then she held up the phone to show Jen the screen and tucked it back into her bag.

Matthew didn’t answer her.

Not through dinner. Not through the movie. And not through the ride home.

Her phone did ping with a text though, just as she was walking in the door. Craig, as it turned out. His timing was impeccable.

Stella waited to answer him. Giving Matthew the chance to answer her. Giving herself time to shower and get ready for bed. To think about what she should say, or if she wanted to say anything at all.

At last, when it had grown almost too late to reply for the sake of politeness, she typed in a quick response to Craig.
Hey! Everything’s great here, hope all is good in your world.

Just checking in. Haven’t seen you online lately.

It’s nice to hear from you,
Stella wrote, and meant it.

There was nothing then, for just long enough that she was sure he wasn’t going to answer. Then a smiley face came through. Three words that made her smile.

Good night, Stella.

But though she checked for a message from Matthew, there was none.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Ten days. That was how long it took him to answer her, and by that time Stella had been on the verge of erasing all his contact information about a dozen times. Each time her finger had hovered over the delete button, indecisive, and she’d changed her mind.

When he messaged her, she thought, she would tell him to fuck off.

When he finally replied, she would be distant.

When he at last decided to answer her, she thought, she would act as if nothing at all had ever gone wrong.

Please,
she bargained with the universe.
Please, just let him call.

Her phone beeped from her bag while she was paying bills, so faint that at first she was convinced she’d imagined it. It beeped again a minute or so later, and she pulled out her phone to see the small red 1 of a notification. She closed her eyes, letting out a long, long sigh of relief.

Can I call you?

Stella?

Of course,
she typed.

The phone rang a minute later, and she answered without letting it ring more than a couple times. No games. “Hi.”

“Hi, Stella. It’s Matthew.” He said nothing for such a long time she was certain he meant to say nothing at all. Then, “How’ve you been?”

“Fine. You?” She hated this stilted, awkward, bland and neutral conversation. They’d never spoken to each other this way even in the beginning. The words tasted bad.

“Okay. Busy.”

“Uh-huh.”

Silence.

“Well,” Stella said after another half minute of listening to him breathe, “I guess I’ll let you go.”

Damn the tears making her voice shake. She swallowed against the tightness in her throat, but couldn’t stop herself from drawing in a shaky breath. She waited for him to say something. Anything.

Please,
she thought.
Say something.

And then in the last three seconds before her finger stabbed the screen to disconnect, Matthew said, “Wait.”

“Yes, Matthew.”

“Can’t we taco ’bout it?” Matthew asked.

Stella leaned her elbow on the kitchen table where she’d been sitting with her laptop, her hand pressed over her eyes. “I’m not sure we have anything to talk about, really.”

“I don’t know why you had to run out without talking to me about what was going on. That’s all.”

She sighed. “It was for a lot of reasons. I don’t know what to tell you. There was all that stuff with Caroline. And then my kid... I know it might be hard for you to understand, Matthew, how an accident can change the rest of your life. What happened colored everything that came after it, and probably always will. I don’t like it, but I’m not going to apologize for it.”

He was silent for another long moment. “Don’t assume I don’t understand you. I’m not asking you to apologize. But I didn’t know what was going on. One minute you were all into me. Then you were pissed off and not talking to me.”

“I wasn’t... Being upset isn’t exactly the same as being pissed off,” she said. “And you’re the one who wasn’t talking to me. Ten days, as a matter of fact. That’s how long it’s been.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I wasn’t sure you wanted to hear from me.”

“I messaged you, didn’t I? I thought maybe we’d talk about you flying out here to visit me.” She heard only silence for a long moment. “Look,” she said. “Can we video-chat? I need to see your face.”

A minute later, they’d connected. Maybe it had been a mistake, she thought at once, seeing his smile. That face. She was helpless against the sight of him. Without thinking, she touched her laptop screen, caressing the line of his jaw.

“I missed you,” Stella blurted.

“I missed you too.”

It was the right thing for him to say.

* * *

There’s a difference between treading water and swimming. In one you’re keeping yourself from drowning. In the other, you’re making it to shore.

Two steps backward, one step forward. That’s what their relationship had become, and Stella couldn’t say she minded it. Having a certain wariness suited her, she supposed, and though they’d started talking almost every day again, if one passed without hearing from him, it was easier not to fret. Easier not to miss him.

“The shine is off the penny,” she told him, phone cradled against her shoulder as she washed dishes one night after dinner.

Tristan had gone on a date. Dinner and a movie. Stella knew the girl, a pretty blonde who liked video games and had been in Tristan’s class since kindergarten. The thought of the two of them in the Mustang hadn’t given her an easy time, but she’d tried to, as Tristan put it, “breathe through it, Mom.”

“C’mon. Don’t say that.”

She laughed as she dried her hands. “I’m going to watch a movie. Want to watch one with me?”

“Sure. Got my whiskey. You gonna have some?”

She looked automatically at the clock, but it was just past seven. Not too early for a drink, especially if he was at home. But she didn’t have any whiskey, anyway.

“Nah. What are you in the mood to watch?”

They settled on a horror flick that had good reviews, both of them logging in to their Interflix accounts and starting at the same time, also while logged in to video chat. With her laptop propped on the coffee table next to her as she stretched on the couch, it wasn’t anything like having him there with her, but it was better than nothing.

“Date night,” Matthew said midway through the movie as he lifted his glass toward her. “Thank God for technology.”

Stella laughed. “Right?”

“Wish you were here.”

She hesitated. It wasn’t that she was glad they weren’t together, or that she didn’t want to be with him. But it had been a long week, and if she’d known Tristan was out on a date while she was seven hundred miles away and unable to get to him in less than a few hours, she’d have been anxious. Breathing through it or not.

It had only been a week since she and Matthew had started talking again. They’d gone longer than that between visits without any tension.

The movie was ending, so she turned the computer to face her.

“You could come here,” she told him.

Matthew pointed the remote and pushed a button, then leaned forward to look into the camera on his computer. “I thought you liked coming here.”

“And it’s free for me. I know. Or at least cheaper.” Stella frowned. She’d never asked Matthew about his finances, though judging by the car he drove and the apartment he lived in, she’d assumed he was doing fine. Divorce could be expensive, though.

“It’s not that.” On-screen, he was fidgeting, running a hand over his head. He looked uncomfortable, but then he said, “I could come to you. Sure. Yeah. Next weekend?”

She sat up. “Yes. Matthew, I’d love that.”

“Let me see what’s going on and let you know, okay?”

Already excited, thinking of having him here in her house, Stella grinned. “It’s not as exciting as Chicago, but I’d love to see you again.”

Matthew smiled at her. “In the meantime...”

“Hmmm?” It took her a few seconds, but then when he tipped the computer screen downward to show his hand on his crotch, she laughed. “Ohhhh. Uh-huh.”

Matthew leaned close, filling the screen with his mouth. Oh, those lips. “I’ve reallllly missed you.”

She had missed him too. Stella checked the clock. Tristan wasn’t due home for another few hours. He hadn’t even texted her to let her know they’d gotten out of the movie yet. She leaned close to the camera too.

“How much?” she whispered.

He showed her how much, and her breath caught. So fucking beautiful, that was Matthew’s cock in his fist. When he pumped it slowly for her, Stella had to squeeze her thighs together. She took the laptop upstairs and locked her door, watching him stroke himself.

“You too,” he said. “I want to watch you.”

“I’m getting there.” She stripped slowly, putting on a show for him. It should’ve felt ridiculous, but the gleam in his eyes and the way he licked his lips while watching her, the sound of his stuttered moan when she slipped her fingers inside her and showed him how wet he was making her... All of that made this anything but silly.

“You are so sexy,” Matthew said.

If she hadn’t before, his clear appreciation of her would’ve made her feel it. Stella lay back, fingers moving on her clit, letting the pleasure overtake her. It was hard not to be distracted by the sight of him doing the same. It had been long enough that she reached the edge within minutes, but she eased off to wait for him.

“Feels...so...good,” he said on a groan. “Are you gonna come with me?”

“Oh, yes,” she murmured, tweaking her clit lightly to keep herself close. “Wanna watch you.”

There was something so powerful but almost feral in watching him get off. When they were together, Matthew was a skilled and considerate lover who made sure she felt as good as he did—but alone, all he had to worry about was his own pleasure. She loved the way his gaze went unfocused. How his hand twisted around the head of his cock before sliding all the way down to his shaft. How prettily his prick changed color the closer he got.

She didn’t forget about her own orgasm, but it definitely moved to the back of her mind as she watched Matthew making himself come. When he did, crying out hoarsely, all she had to do was press herself a little harder and she was tipping over with him. She shook with it, watching his cock throb, his fist covering the head as his stroking slowed, then stopped.

Breathing hard, Matthew let out a small laugh. “Fuck. Wow.”

“Mmmm,” Stella said. “That was great.”

“Be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

She didn’t, though she did pull her clothes back on. When he padded back into view, still naked, she propped her chin on her hand to watch him as he went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of pajama pants. He looked over his shoulder at her, shaking his ass a little until she laughed and shook her head.

“Come see me,” she told him. “I can’t stand this much longer.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Matthew said. “I want to see you too.”

From downstairs came the sound of the front door opening, followed by “Mom! Me and Mandy want to play some
Hazard Station,
okay?”

“Shit,” Stella said. “Tristan’s here. He didn’t text me. Gotta go. Let me know about this weekend.”

“I will,” Matthew promised.

* * *

As it turned out, he didn’t.

A couple days passed. Stella waited, patiently at first. Then not so much. Finally she sent Matthew a message.
Call me?

He did. “Sorry. Got caught up with stuff. I can’t make it this weekend. It’s my turn to have the girls.”

“Ah.”

“I should’ve told you sooner,” Matthew said.

Stella frowned. “That would’ve been nice. Do you not want to come visit me? Is that it? Are you worried about meeting Tristan? Because we could arrange it for when he’s with his dad.”

“Of course I want to visit you. Don’t say that. You’re overreacting. What can I do? It’s my turn to have the girls.”

Oh, how she hated being told she was overreacting. “Didn’t you know that when I asked you? You could’ve told me then.”

“I thought I could rearrange.”

This rang so false she had to take a moment before she could reply. “Matthew, I’d rather you be honest with me than ever try to save my feelings with a lie. Okay?”

“I’m not lying about anything.” He sounded mad, and she didn’t really care. She was mad too.

“I’d rather have a no than a maybe that you already know is a no. For anything.”

Matthew sighed. “It wasn’t a no when I said I would check. Okay?”

“Okay.” This had the feeling of becoming a second non-argument, so Stella changed the subject toward something lighter.

After a bit more awkwardness, the tension eased. They joked. They laughed. They shared stories about their days—Stella had some funny things to share about her job and the sorts of crazy photos she’d been asked to retouch. Matthew spoke with fondness of some of his students in the adult education class.

“We’re doing poetry,” he said. “Limericks. Hey, it’s an art form, really.”

“What’s your favorite? The only one I know is about Nantucket.”

“All the good ones are about Nantucket,” Matthew said.

He talked more about the class, how his students had gone from barely being able to put together coherent sentences to publishing pieces in a chapbook. The obvious pride in his voice moved her.

“You’ve made a difference in their lives,” she told him. “That must feel so amazing.”

Matthew was quiet for a few seconds. “I don’t think of it that way. I’m just trying to show them there’s more than one way to look at the world.”

“That’s a beautiful and important thing to do for anyone, Matthew.”

“It’s not... Thank you. I guess I never thought of it as being beautiful. Or important.”

“Well,” Stella said, “it is.”