Eight Years Of Waiting For His Flight Schedule Ended With A One-Way Ticket Chapter 01

Eight Years Of Waiting For His Flight Schedule Ended With A One-Way Ticket Chapter 01

Nathan Hayes had been flying for eight years. I was there through it all—from first officer to captain.

The year he was busiest, I quit my job and cooked every single meal around his flight schedule.

I asked once. “Could you take me up there sometime? Just once. I want to see what you see at thirty thousand feet.”

He didn’t even stop chewing. “That’s a workplace, not an theme park.”

I said okay. And I never asked again.

Then one night I couldn’t sleep. I went through his phone and found a locked album.

Forty-something photos. All from the cockpit.

Cloud seas. Sunsets. Double rainbows after a storm. The Milky Way at thirty thousand feet.

Every single one had been sent to the same person. The contact name was a teddy bear emoji.

The most recent one was taken three days ago. A sunset with half the sun hanging off the wingtip.

His caption read: [　　Today’s is beautiful too. Next time you come up, sit in the right jumpseat. Best angle.]

She replied with a hug emoji and four words: [Wait till my time off.]

I put the phone back where I found it. Didn’t change the passcode. Didn’t delete the album.

When morning came, I made coffee like always. Drank it quietly.

Then I opened my laptop, wrote my resignation email, and booked a one-way ticket to Sierra Vista.

Eight years. I was finally done chasing his flight path just to know when to eat.

Done sitting in an empty apartment guessing where he’d flown.

His thirty thousand feet didn’t have room for me. Fine. I’d put down roots and watch my own sunsets.

***

“Why are you up so early?”

Nathan walked out of the bedroom pulling his flight case, frowning.

I held my mug and watched him clip the four-bar epaulets onto his white shirt.

“Couldn’t sleep. Came out for coffee.”

He went to the island, picked up the black coffee I’d just poured, and took a sip. Then he grabbed the other cup—the one I’d actually made for myself.

“You stayed up watching those stupid shows again?”

“No.”

“Clara, your sleep schedule is getting worse and worse.”

He glanced at his watch, that same lecturing tone.

“I’ve got Frankfurt in a bit. Four-day trip.”

“Okay.”

He seemed surprised by how calm I was.

Usually before an international trip, I’d spend the day before packing his antacids, melatonin, and neck pillow into his flight case. And remind him a hundred times to text me when he landed.

Today I did nothing. Just sat on the barstool and watched him.

“Where’d you put my antacids?” He dug through the side pocket of his case.

“Bottom drawer under the TV. Get them yourself.”

He stopped moving. Turned to look at me.

“What’s with you today? Can’t walk a few steps?”

“I’m tired.”

He sighed, walked to the TV stand, pulled open the drawer, grabbed the pill bottle, and shoved it in his pocket.

“Stay home all day. No idea what you’ve got to be tired about.”

His phone lit up on the marble counter.

A text message. 　　The sender name was a teddy bear emoji. [　　Nathan, it’s cold in Frankfurt today. Don’t forget your jacket.]

He picked up the phone. The screen light caught the small smile pulling at his lips.

He typed back one-handed, fast, not even bothering to zip his flight case.

“Coworker?” I asked, looking at the teddy bear.

He locked the screen and tucked the phone in his pocket.

“Yeah. Amber Reid. She’s on the same trip today. Working the main cabin.”

“I thought she was a domestic flight attendant.”

“Company reassigned her temporarily. She’s helping train some new hires.”

He answered so naturally. Didn’t even need to think up an excuse.

I watched his straight back and remembered the locked album from last night. Forty-something photos.

Every single one of them he’d taken himself. From thirty thousand feet.

He’d never shown me. But he’d shared every last one with Amber Reid.

“Nathan.”

“What?” He was putting on his shoes at the door.

“Do you remember what day next Wednesday is?”

He didn’t stop tying his laces.

“Next Wednesday? I’ve got a sim recert. Why?”

“Never mind.”

Next Wednesday was our eight-year anniversary.

Eight years ago on that day, he’d gotten his first officer certificate. He’d spun me around our crappy rental apartment.

He said someday he’d pick out the most beautiful clouds for me from thirty thousand feet.

He forgot.

“I’m heading out. I’ll text you when I land.”

He pushed the door open.

“Nathan.”

He had his hand on the doorknob, already annoyed.

“What now? The crew van’s waiting downstairs.”

“Your flight case zipper’s not closed.”

He looked down, pulled it shut.

“Yeah, okay. You’re being weird today.”

The door closed.

The apartment went dead quiet.

I walked to my computer and hit send on the resignation email.

Then I opened the ticket app and confirmed the one-way flight to Sierra Vista. Seven days from now.

Seven days. Enough time to wipe away eight years of traces.

My phone rang. It was my best friend Sophie Mercer.

“You sent the email?”

“Yeah.”

“Then don’t change your mind. When are you telling Nathan?”

“The day I leave.”

Sophie was quiet for a few seconds.

“Clara. Eight years. You’re just going to let it go without a word?”

“I don’t want it anymore.”

I looked at the cold coffee on the island.

“Sophie, have you ever seen the sunsets he takes for someone else?”

“What?”

“They’re beautiful. Even the light on the wing looks soft.”

I put the phone face down on the counter.

“Too bad they were never for me.”