Homeward Bound

“Hurry up, Evan. I don’t want us to miss our flight.” Derek brushed past me and over to his suitcase, rifling through his clothes and other miscellaneous items. He pulled his cologne from the mess and looked at me anxiously. 

“Derek, no. Any more and either you’ll pass out from, uh, Mystic Daydream inhalation or she will once she comes within ten feet of you.” 

He sighed and stashed it away again, finally zipping up his bag. He glanced at his phone and scampered around the room again, fueled by equal parts excitement and nerves. I stood by our dorm room door, rolling my eyes at him. 

“You know we still have like three hours, right?” I asked, crossing my arms over my wool coat clad chest. I thought longingly about the warm weather we’d be flying to in Louisiana, far better than New York in December anyway, or worse yet, home in Minnesota. A shiver snaked down my spine at the memory. 

“I know, I know, I’m just…” He stared into the mirror hung above his desk, his face barely visible through the various stickers plastered across its surface. He ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to add volume to the brown, lifeless mop crowning his head, before glancing hesitantly at me, “Are you sure I look ok?” 

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my lips. 

“Yes, dude, you’re fine. Plus, I doubt she’ll be very picky at this point...”

“I know, I know.” He took a deep breath and pushed the hair from his face. “Alright, let’s go.” 

I grabbed my already packed suitcase, which had been ready beside me for the past half hour, and followed him out the door. 

I met Derek the beginning of that year, our sophomore year of college, after I transferred out of Minnesota State to pursue my photography degree. We’d started out as reluctant roommates, then slowly transitioned into bong buddies, then comrades against the tyrannical number of reports and creative pieces we were required to produce throughout the year. Friends, that’s what we were. And good ones too, otherwise he never would have invited me to stay with him and his family in Louisiana over the holiday break instead of going home to my own. 

Derek hadn’t seen his girlfriend, Sandra, in nearly six months. She’d taken a gap year to volunteer at her mother's veterinary clinic. They’d met in middle school, he’d told me, and gotten together her freshman year. They’d been inseparable ever since. They called or FaceTimed or Skyped nearly every night, watching movies or gaming or smoking together. I could tell she was a bit of a stoner, more than we were anyway. An artsy type. Her bedroom walls slathered with murals. Bells and tiny strings of lights dangled from her ceiling. When she spoke, her words and slight accent flowed together in a calming rhythm. If nothing else, she was hot, in a crunchy, earthy kind of way. I could see why he was so into her.   

Derek’s knee bobbed up and down anxiously on the bus to the airport, his shoe tapping the floor like an ADHD metronome. I rolled my eyes as he checked the time on his phone. His lock screen was a picture of Sandra, unsurprisingly. He smiled gently when he saw it, her, as he always did.

 Soon we reached the airport, grabbed our bags, and headed inside with all the speed the sexually repressed teen could muster. We checked ourselves in and meandered through security with an hour and a half to spare. The second we reached our gate, Derek collapsed into the nearest chair and pulled out his phone, no doubt with the intention of texting Sandra. He never put a case on it, just a handful of indiscriminate stickers, which bothered me to no end. He was practically begging it to get broken. I put my earbuds in and zoned out, unzipping my coat as I thought about the warmth of Louisiana. I played with the sunglasses in my pocket absentmindedly. 

A few minutes before we boarded Derek scolded me for deciding to use the restroom. 

“You could have gone before!” 

“I didn’t have to go then!” 

“How old are you, six?” he asked with a grin. 

I elbowed him. “When did you animorph into my mother?” 

“Fine, just make it quick.” 

“Yes Mom, I know.” He rolled his eyes and took his passport and ticket out of his bag.

By the time I returned Derek was already standing in line. I sprinted over, picking up my backpack on the way as he began wildly flagging me down. He stared at his phone relentlessly as we walked down the gangway, and Sandra’s calm, smiling face stared back. 

“Dude, we’re practically on the plane. We definitely made it on time,” I chided. He looked over at me as if he’d just remembered I was there. 

“I know, it’s not that…” He paused for a second, biting his thumbnail. 

“Then what’s wrong, pouty?”

“She hasn’t texted me back, not since we left the dorm.” He unlocked his phone to show me. 

Leaving the dorm :)

No response.

On the bus, I’m so fucking excited

No response.

Boarding now. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart. I love you so much :)

No response.

I had to admit that was odd, especially when she hadn’t responded to the last text. They were both disgustingly lovey-dovey. 

“She’s probably just busy.” I bumped him reassuringly with my shoulder.

“Yeah… You’re probably right.” I could still see the doubt in his eyes. 

We reached our seats and I quickly snaked around Derek, slipping into the window seat before he could take it. 

“Dick,” he muttered, reluctantly sliding into the middle. I made a show of getting comfortable in my seat, stretching out my legs and reclining backwards. I let loose a luxurious sigh. 

“Put your seat up, shithead. I’m sitting here,” a gruff voice announced behind me. 

“Oh, uh, my bad,” I apologized lamely as I pulled my seat upright again and glared at Derek, who was attempting to muffle his laughter at the encounter. 

Eventually, the plane took off, and Derek and I stared out the window at the city growing smaller and smaller beneath us, just as mesmerized as children. The flight itself was relatively smooth, and we’d lucked out with a lack of crying infants, but I could tell Derek was distracted. His phone was practically glued to his hand, and he kept glancing at Sandra’s picture longingly. I couldn’t help but imagine their reunion. All tongues and pheromones, maybe even tears… I silently decided I’d give them their space. Maybe pick up some breakfast at whatever ridiculously overpriced cafe lurked near our gate.  

We were halfway through some shitty horror movie Derek had found on Hulu when we heard the flight attendant announce our arrival. I shut my laptop quickly, cutting the movie off mid-scene. A scene the female lead was no doubt about to get brutally disemboweled in… I’ve never been the biggest fan of horror or gore. 

Derek rolled his eyes at me.

“Pussy.” 

“Screw off,” I retorted. The plane made contact with the runway mid-sentence and I nearly bit my tongue. 

Derek stood excitedly before the plane had even stopped moving, and the flight attendant had to ask him to sit down again. He fidgeted relentlessly until the “remain buckled” light finally blinked off, at which point he immediately grabbed his bag and leapt over the empty seat beside him and into the aisle. I joined him, and as we stood waiting for the passengers in front of us to exit, Derek’s phone began ringing, apparently having gotten signal again. He yanked it from his pocket excitedly, but his face quickly shifted to disappointment, and he declined the call. 

“I didn’t recognize the number,” he told me, noticing my confusion. He then checked his text messages yet again. Still no reply.  

“Ok, now I’m really worried.” He shifted restlessly in the sea of bodies flooding the aisle. I had to agree. I’d never seen them go that long without texting each other in all six months of knowing Derek. But I sure as hell wasn’t going to make him feel worse. 

“Maybe there isn’t good signal at the airport,” I suggested halfheartedly. 

“Maybe…” He trailed off as the tide finally began moving forward. 

Derek received two more calls from the mystery number as we wandered through the maze of the Lafayette airport in search of baggage claim. I could tell he was far too distracted and excited at the prospect of finally seeing Sandra again to answer any call that hadn’t come from her. By the time we finally saw the sign reading “baggage claim” he was practically sprinting, meaning I had to keep up with him or risk losing him in the crowd. 

We grabbed our luggage as quickly as possible, Derek vibrating with enthusiasm, and bolted to the exit, where Sandra was supposed to pick us up. When we saw she wasn’t there yet, I sat down on the nearest bench. Derek paced in front of me, phone in hand, feverishly texting who I could only assume was her. After ten or so minutes of Derek’s face growing progressively more tense, he received another call. It was the same number as before. With a sigh, he finally answered it.

“Uh yes, this is he.” 

“Yes, she’s my girlfriend.”

“What’s going on, what do you mean?” 

“I- I don’t understand.” 

“Oh…” 

Derek suddenly collapsed onto the bench next to me.

“Derek?” I asked anxiously. His eyes were empty, and he stared at nothing. He held his phone limply in his hand. I caught it before he let it drop to the ground. I hesitantly raised it to my ear, keeping my gaze glued on my friend. 

“H-hello?” 

“They believe she passed on impact. She didn’t feel a thing, I promise. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

I hung up.

Derek had raised one hand up to cover his mouth. I saw his face change, right in front of me. I saw the realization hit him. And I saw him fall apart. 

“Oh my God…” He breathed between his fingers, “No… No, it’s not true, she’s not…”

I raised one hand, and let it fall to my side again. My vision swam with tears. 

“Derek, I...”

“It’s not true,” he whispered again. “They’re, they’re lying!” he roared, folding in on himself. His body shook with every breath. 

“It’s not true, it’s not true, it’s not true.” 

“Derek…”

He stood up, his hands balled in his hair. I saw the tears running mercilessly down his face. He began hyperventilating.

“No, please God, no. Not her, it can’t be her…” He wheezed every word until he couldn’t. Couldn’t speak, and couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe I realized probably too late, and I stood up with him.

“Hey, hey…” I whispered weakly, pulling his shaking body into my arms. He wailed into my chest, too weak to do anything else. His phone fell from my pocket and landed beside us on the cement. We both looked over at the sound, just in time to see Sandra’s grinning face, behind glass now laced with a web of cracks, before the screen went black.