Chapter 1
"Boarding for flight 1610 with service from Portland to Atlanta will begin shortly. Any passengers that need extra time to board, please make your way to the gate now," a chipper voice announced over the intercom.
It was an early summer morning; I was barely awake after a particularly grueling overnight shift and desperately wanting this trip to be over before it had even begun. My younger brother's wedding was in a week. I was happy for him, but idea of going home to constant talk of how overjoyed everyone was for the young couple while indirectly pointing out that I was turning 30 and still single wasn't exactly on my list of top 10 vacations. If that weren't bad enough, "home" was the middle of nowhere in Smalltown, USA in August which meant that I also had to deal with an ungodly amount of humidity and the casual homophobia I'd grown used to as a teenager. Granted, my experience was probably heaven compared to what others endured.
Endure. It's almost certainly gotten worse for teens in the last year or so.
For me there had always been whispers, and the occasional conversation in front of me, about my sexuality going as far back as fifth grade. At least, that's the first time I remember hearing anything about it. And while I was never outright bullied, there was that time in my sophomore year when someone wrote "FAG" over my face on bulletin board. The worst that happened after I came out two years later was that a couple of people didn't speak to me again, which was a win in my book. Especially after building it up in my head to expect something more direct and...well, violent.
When you pair that with my general distaste of having to drive at least an hour for any decent groceries or entertainment, and the impossibility of keeping anything private, I was ready to get out as soon as I could manage it. Where to was anyone's guess, but I'd always felt there was more to life than soybean fields and dirt roads. More to my life, anyway. And less than a month after graduation, I packed everything I had and left -- hoping to find a home in the rain and mountains of the Pacific Northwest. In the ten years since, I'd avoided going back home unless it was an absolute necessity. My brother's wedding aside, I'd only made it to a couple of family vacations to the Gulf Coast; and it was never for longer than a week at a time. Getting in and out with as little sentiment as possible was the plan I'd used for each trip, and it was no different this time. There wasn't anything there for me anymore.
"Priority passengers may now board for flight 1610 to Atlanta."
Not many friends had withstood the tests of time and demands of adulthood -- only one had, really. Casey. He and I'd met when his family moved to town one summer in elementary school, and we'd quickly became inseparable. When we weren't sneaking our parents' cigarettes or exploring the woods around our homes, we were holed up in one of our rooms plotting our next adventure. During the school year, we'd spend most of our time competing in almost every class and the rest of the time in our respective extracurriculars. Casey chose sports and I went the academic route with things like quiz bowl and student government. Then at night, because we rarely spent more than a few nights alone and instead opted to bounce between homes, we'd pass the hours gaming, doing homework, or finding new ways to keep life on a gravel road interesting. One of which was occasionally fooling around as we got older.
We never dated. Hell, we never even kissed, but we were each other's first for everything else physically. It wasn't something we every really talked about either -- back then or since. It was just a part of our friendship. Just something we did. In hindsight, Casey should have been my first inkling that I wasn't straight, but denial is a magnificent thing and I fully believed we weren't gay. Rather, we were simply taking advantage of opportunities as they came; getting some practical experience so we didn't look clueless when had a girlfriend. I say that, but I can't speak for Casey since we never discussed our reasons, but I'd imagine it was something similar for him. It wasn't until my senior year, after our hook ups became almost nonexistent and I was longing for them more and more, that I fully came around to the idea of being gay.
The intercom buzzed back to life for a third time. "We will now begin general boarding for flight 1610 to Atlanta."
I sighed deeply before standing to get in my last good stretch before being crammed to the plant. Normally I'd wait until the crowd thinned out, but the sooner I got to my seat the quicker I could fall asleep. It wasn't likely, though, given than I'd rarely ever been able to get a decent nap on airplanes; however, I was banking on last night's shift working in my favor this time.
Paramedicine is never a dull field, even when it is. That sounds wrong, but it's true. At least for me. On the off chance that we aren't running back-to-back calls and I'm not spending any down time catching up on charts, I relish in the few moments when the world isn't actively trying to end itself and I can enjoy the crisp night air or the sound of rain outside the ambulance. Night shift does have some perks. But I digress. Between population booms and staffing busts, the field had only gotten busier in recent years. Last night, specifically, was its own kind of brutal. My partner and I spent the entire night running calls, each one conveniently outside of his scope, so I took them all. It wasn't through any fault of his; sometimes that's just how it goes. My usual partner, Lexie, had called out so I'd also never worked with this guy before, and there was only so much he could do to help. He was damn good at what he could do, though. Even if that ended up being taking vitals, running EKGs, and watching me get progressively more exhausted with each patient.
The line moved glacially, but at least it was moving. Unlike a few gates away where someone had stopped the entire line by throwing a tantrum; the few snippets I could hear had something to do with their boarding pass not working. I rolled my eyes and pulled out my phone to shoot a quick text to Casey as I took another few steps.
Just boarding. I'll let you know when I'm on the ground in Atlanta.
His reply came quickly.
Why do you bother letting me know when you still have a whole second flight?
I laughed to myself and replied.
So you can wait anxiously by the phone, counting down the minutes until you see me again. Obviously.
Ew. Don't flatter yourself.
Just let me know when you're boarding for Little Rock so I can grab flowers on my way to get your gay ass.
I sent back a kissing face emoji before pulling up my boarding pass. That was our friendship -- sarcastic flirting, harmless jabs, and a level of unpredictability that left the very real possibility of him showing with a dozen or two roses. We might not talk all the time and don't send updates on every little thing, but when we finally did catch up it felt like we were never apart.
Stifling a yawn, I held my phone out to the desk agent to scan before continuing down the walkway, slowly moving forward with the stop and go of other passengers finding their seats. Luckily, this side of the counter seemed to be moving faster so it wasn't long before I'd found my window seat at the back of the plane and was preparing for the sweet release of sleep.
Apparently, the key to passing out on a cross-country flight was a long night at work because the next thing I remember was a hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake. I opened my eyes to an almost deserted plane and a flight attendant smiling at me.
"Oh my god." I said, rubbing the sleep and dryness from my eyes. "Are we there already?"
The middle-aged woman chuckled politely and said "Yes, it would seem that we are," before continuing down the aisle.
I quickly grabbed my carry-on and headed for the exit, noticing just how different the air already felt. Gone was the somewhat cool, morning air that I'd left and in its place was what could only be described as thick, damp, and suffocating. Yet another reason for my escape -- the humidity here was absolute torture and sweat began to bead on my neck and forehead almost instantly. Luckily, my attention was quickly pulled away from my discomfort and to the vibrating in my pocket. Or unluckily, rather, because the screen showed it was my mom calling.
"Hey, I just got into Atlanta. What's up?"
I love her, but a simple phone call with her could last hours.
"I just wanted to check in." Her words were clipped and the tension in her voice was thick. "You didn't let me know what was going on."
"Fuck." I muttered under my breath. "Yeah, sorry about that. I was barely awake when we boarded, and I just wanted to get some sleep."
"But you let Casey know."
My fingers pinched the bridge of my nose, holding in a sigh of annoyance. "Of course I did, Mom; he's the one picking me up. Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you; I just wanted to go to sleep. Last night was rough."
"If you say so." Her voice was warming with each passing second. "I just worry about you. You know that."
"Yes ma'am. I'm well aware. But I don't have a lot of time to talk now. My next flight starts boarding soon and it's a little bit of a hike down to the gate. Can we talk later? I'll text you when I'm on the plane."
"Of course, baby. Have a safe flight. I love you."
"I love you too, Mom. See you soon." I said and ended the call.
The gate in question was, in fact, right beside the one I came in through, but I didn't want to sit through her loud complaints that I hadn't give her a minute-by-minute update of my travels. I understood where she was coming from, especially given her general concern regarding my profession, but that didn't make it easier to handle.
A loud grumble from my stomach reminded me that I hadn't gotten chance to eat last night, nor had it crossed my mind in the rush to get to the airport on time. Thankfully, it looked like my next flight hadn't even started boarding, so I decided to stretch my legs and went in search of coffee and food. It wasn't too far of a walk when I found a coffee cart that didn't look too chain-y and decided to give it a shot. I know, it sounded pretentious to look for something that wasn't owned by a mega-corporation. But it was less of altruistic than it was just not wanting a burnt cup of coffee and stale sandwich.
Half an hour later, pleasantly fed and caffeinated, I was passing the desk agent and boarding my last flight when I sent off identical texts to my mom and Casey.
Boarded and one flight away. See you soon.