But that’s just it. How can I give her everything she wants? She wants forever and forever is what she deserves. But I’m not capable of that kind of commitment. There are too many things that could go wrong, too many “what ifs?”
What if I try and I’m not enough?
What if I disappoint her?
What if it doesn’t last?
What if she leaves me?
My ride is waiting for me when I make it outside. I open the back seat door and toss in my carry-on with more force than necessary. I slump into the seat and rest my head against the window. It’s still dark, but the early August sun will be rising soon and Maggie will wake up and find me gone. I didn’t even think to leave her a note.
“Idiot,” I moan, smacking my head against the glass repeatedly. I barely register the cool glass against my forehead. I’m numb.
“You alright there, pal?” My Uber driver asks and I nod giving him a wave. I forgot I wasn’t alone.
“Sorry about that,” I say to him, smiling weakly.
“Just checking. It’s tempered glass, so go ahead and knock yourself out. I mean, not literally.”
“I appreciate it.” I lean forward in my seat and lightly massage my aching temples with my fingertips. “But I’m not sure any amount of blunt force trauma is going to help at this point.”
“Fear of flying?”
“I’m sorry?” I ask him, sitting up. He’s a stocky guy in his mid-fifties with a thick Boston accent.
“You’re headed to the airport and you look unhappy. Are you afraid of flying?” He doesn’t look at me in the rearview, just keeps his eyes on the road.
“No, I don’t mind flying,” I answer truthfully. Flying has never caused me any anxiety. I usually fall asleep before the plane takes off.
“Where are you headed?” He asks as he changes lanes. It’s four in the morning and there aren’t many other cars on the road.
“Tampa.”
“Ah. The Rays suck this year.”
“They really do,” I chuckle. As much as I wanted to pass the drive in silence, I have to admit I’m enjoying the driver’s conversation. If nothing else, he’s distracting me from agonizing over how much I fucked up.
“What’s in Tampa, aside from the shitty Rays?”
“That’s where I’m from.” I relax back into my seat. “It’s my grandparents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary.”
“Whoa,” his deep chuckle fills the sedan. “They’ve almost been married longer than I’ve been alive. That’s beautiful. The missus and I just clocked our twenty-third.”
“Congratulations.” Would you look at that? Another man with his shit together that managed to make a relationship work. “What’s your secret?” He doesn’t answer right away as he slows and takes the airport exit. I start to think that maybe he’s not going to answer and maybe that’s for the best.
“I show up,” he says with a shrug.
“You show up?”
“Yup.”
“And that’s it?”
“Pretty much.” He shrugs again. “Marriage is like a job. But like a good one with paid vacation and dental. Some days the work is hard. Other days there’s free donuts in the break room. You like your partner, even if sometimes you don’t get along. There are times when you screw up, though hopefully not too badly. But at the end of the day, as long as you show up and treat everyone with respect, you’ll probably keep your job.”
He drives me up to the airport departure drop off zone and pulls over. Turning in his seat to look at me for the first time, he gives me a broad smile.
“Thank you,” I say and I mean it. “For the drive. And the conversation.”
