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When we arrive at the Portland airport, it’s different from what I remember. They’ve done some major upgrades to the architecture. They’ve put wood in the ceilings, not painted or anything, just solid wood planks. It almost looks unfinished with the bare design.
For the last four days, Sean has seemed genuinely excited for the trip.
It’s eased my thoughts of sitting on a plane for six hours. If he’s there with his enthusiasm, maybe it won’t be so bad. At least that’s what I’m convincing myself.
When we get through security, we decide to grab some coffee from Starbucks. It’s sentimental.
Sean smiles at me knowingly as we stand in line. “Vanilla latte, right?” he asks.
He remembers.
He orders for himself, and then for me.
I can hear a baby crying in the distance, and the sound starts to make me anxious again. I haven't flown in years, anytime I would travel, it was by car. I’ve done a lot of road trips in my life.
After a couple of minutes, our coffees are ready. Sean grabs them from the counter, immediately sipping his.
His coffee addiction is just as bad as mine.
He’s carrying my backpack for me as I roll my suitcase behind me. When we find our gate, we sit in two empty seats waiting for them to announce the boarding process.
As my legs bob up and down in anticipation.
Sean places his hand on my knee. “You doing okay?” He looks me up and down, concerned.
“I just don’t like flying.”
They call out Group C on the intercom. That’s us. I probably should’ve warned him I’d be like this.
I don’t know what it is about planes. Technically, they’re safer than cars. Any transportation freaks me out to be honest.
Sean follows closely behind as we walk. We scan our boarding passes and go through the muggy little tunnel leading to the plane entrance. The flight attendants look adorable, wearing navy pencil skirts with matching tops.
We find our seats and Sean places my bag in the overhead bin. He takes the aisle seat and I take the middle so he has more leg room.
I try to focus on my breathing, trying not to gaslight myself. If I think about getting sick, then it’ll happen.
“I know six hours seems like a long time, but it goes by quickly, I promise. We’ll just watch movies,” he says, pointing at the out-of-date screens in front of us.
He moves his hand, hovering, and then he slowly interlocks his fingers with mine.
My heart slows a bit. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
By the time they're done boarding, no one has claimed the seat next to me.
“If you want more space, I could move over to the window seat.”
“Don’t you dare,” he says, squeezing my hand.
11
August, Ten Years Earlier
After our day at the falls, we decide to grab ice cream at a small local shop. I got strawberry and Sean picked bubble gum.
I finish licking the sticky drops that have fallen onto my palm as we sit in the bed of his truck.
“So you’re telling me, if you could be anywhere right now you wouldn’t choose Rome or Hawaii or the Caribbean, but…Canada?” I laugh.
