Unbreak My Heart(21)

When I’m back—because I can’t live in this in-between state forever.

That’s why I’m leaving.

I say goodbye and head to the plane that’ll take me 5,400 miles away. I’m ready to meet Kana, to see my brother’s doctor, to learn the things I don’t know.

When I sink into my seat in row twenty-three, Holland by my side, I’m not sure if this is real. Or maybe this is the new surreal direction that life after a hall pass has taken.

For the first time in weeks, I don’t feel so alone.





14





Andrew



A body of water broke us up.

It’s the largest and deepest one on earth, reaching its fingertips from the Arctic Ocean to Antarctica, from Asia and Australia to the Americas.

This 64-million-square-mile beast covers one-third of the earth, and that was more than enough to make Holland and me an impossibility three years ago.

I guess sometimes you want something so badly, you jump even if you know you’ll crash. The jump was worth it, an exhilarating free fall, despite what was coming.

It’s ironic that we’re now crossing the Pacific together, but we’re not together. Three years ago, I’d have given a million bucks, years off my life, or my right thumb for a way for us to stay together.

But that was the wide-eyed younger me—the one who had only experienced one seismic shift, not two.

Now, I take what I can get from Holland, and it’s a strange new breed of companionship between us as we fly over the vast blue water while watching a spy movie set in space.

“It’s so ridiculously unreal—all the CGI—that I love it to pieces,” she says, waving at the seatback screens as she tugs out her earbuds.

“I don’t think they could shoot it on a set,” I say drily.

“Ya think?”

“Smartass.”

“Same to you.”

When the flick ends, we play cards, with Holland killing it at gin rummy.

“Card shark,” I mutter.

She blows on her fingers.

When the meal arrives, she angles her phone above the tray full of rice and vegetables to snap a shot.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“For my Yelp review.”

“You’re really doing a Yelp review of airline food?”

“Absolutely. The only question is how many stars it’ll earn.” She spears a piece of wilted pepper and bites it. After chewing, she declares, “Two-point-five.”

“You’re a harsh Yelper.”

She smirks. “It’s hilarious that you thought I’d really do that.”

I set down my plastic fork, indignant. “The whole thing was a setup?”

She nods, proud of her ruse.

“See? You do take advantage of me.”

Those words immediately evoke the other night. She locks eyes with me, and the joking ceases. Heat blazes across her irises, and a groan works its way up my chest. She’s thinking the same thing, remembering the same moments I am. How we crashed into each other, all need and pent-up longing, how we nearly set the couch into flames. I can hear the sounds she made, feel how she moved. I see it all in her eyes, the images flashing like a film reel snapping. A hand on a face. Fingers laced through hair. Legs wrapped around hips. Lips parted. Eyes closed. Breath coming fast.

I’d watch that film again a thousand times over, even though it always ends the same.

We cut to black.

And now we’re here, riding across the sky, knees brushing each other, the guy on the other side of me snoring.

“I don’t take advantage of you,” she whispers.

“I know you don’t.”

“I don’t,” she says again, firmer this time.

I’m firm too. “It was a joke.”

“Okay,” she says, like she’s giving in.

“It was, Holland.”

She plucks the in-flight magazine from the back of the seat and snaps it open. “Storytime,” she declares, and then reads me an article. In Japanese. “What did you think?”

I scratch my jaw. “Considering I have hardly a clue what you said, how much of a disadvantage will I be at in Tokyo? I haven’t been there in a few years.”

She shoots me a look. “I’m aware of that.”

Open mouth. Insert foot. That seems to be the stilted way we are today.

“It wasn’t deliberate,” I mutter.

She sighs then fixes on a smile. “It’s okay. It was the decision we made. Besides, you couldn’t just jet off to Tokyo whenever you wanted.”

“And you couldn’t just jet back to LA either,” I toss back, because there’s still room in my mouth for more of my foot.

“Anyway,” she says, shifting gears, “you’ll be fine. You studied it when you were younger, right?”

I nod. “My parents made us take classes as kids. I don’t remember much though.”

“I bet you’ll pick up the language again quickly. It’s there in your brain—it just needs to be dusted off. I’ll help you as much as I can, especially since I don’t start for another few weeks. By the way, what’s first on your treasure map?”

I think about this for a minute. “Probably the teahouse. Have you been?”