I stood at the security checkpoint at LaGuardia airport and as I emptied my pockets, I saw the folded slip of paper with Zach's phone number on it. My heart fluttered in my chest and I tucked it back into my side pocket and walked through the metal detector. I held my arms out to my side as the TSA agent waved the wand over my pockets and midriff before gesturing me through the checkpoint. I grabbed my belongings from the plastic bucket on the conveyor belt and reorganized them in my pockets.
I grabbed the piece of paper in my pocket and unfolded it again, looking at the phone number. I unlocked my phone and entered it into the messenger app, typing out a text then deleting it. I typed it again and deleted it for a second time. I couldn't think straight. I finally gave up and just saved the number to my phone as Zach (bookstore guy) and then clicked my phone off and put it back in my pocket. Maybe I would think of something to say by the time I got to Boston.
I continued to think through texting Zach as I sat at the terminal, waiting for my flight to board. I didn't understand why I was so nervous or why I was entertaining the idea of reaching out to him. Why did I care so much? Frustration welled up inside me and I wanted to scream. I unlocked my phone again and went to delete his number. There was no reason for me to be this stressed out over ten digits given to me by a complete stranger. Before I could press "Delete Contact," the intercom crackled,
"Flight 1378 now boarding."
I switched my phone to airplane mode and slid it into my pocket, leaving Zach's number saved for now. I boarded the plane and sat down, staring straight ahead and continuing to run through the conflicting thoughts in my head.
"Excuse me," a woman said and I looked at her, waiting for her to ask if I was that author. She raised an eyebrow and pointed at the seat next to me,
"That's my seat," she said flatly and I apologized before standing up and allowing her to slide into her seat. The shows and book signings made it easy to forget that very few people would ever recognize me. Which is why I was in economy class and not first class, I was an author not a Hemsworth brother.
We were in the air within the next twenty minutes and I regretted not requesting a window seat. The flight wouldn't be long enough to watch a movie and I couldn't help but feel like a creep every time I tried to look out the window and inadvertently bothered the woman seated beside it. Eventually I gave up and stared straight ahead at the back of the seat in front of me, continuing to process my thoughts and the whiplash of seemingly never-ending travel.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we are now arriving at the Boston Logan International Airport. The weather is clear and sunny with a current temperature of 44 degrees. We hope you enjoyed your flight. Please remain seated until directed to depart by your flight attendants."
The crackly announcement jolted me from my thoughts and I tried to look out the window again. The shade was pulled down and the woman shot me an annoyed look. I looked away, staring straight at the back of the seat in front of me again. It would've been worth it to pay the extra money for a first class ticket. I kept that in mind for the next flight booking. I turned off airplane mode and immediately notifications flooded my phone.
"Meet me at your terminal when you land" read the most recent text from Samira. I opened my messages and "liked" the text to show her that I received it. I scrolled through the remainder of my notifications. Several news alerts, some texts from relatives and friends about how they had seen me on tv, some marketing texts from publishing companies. I cleared the alerts for all of them and then opened my contacts, scrolling to Zach's number again. I pressed "Message" and the screen popped up with my keyboard, waiting for me to type out a text.
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, please gather your belongings and begin making your way to the front of the plane. Thank you with flying with us today and enjoy Boston!" the flight attendant announced cheerily. I slid my phone back into my pocket, abandoning yet another attempt to contact Zach. I waited for the passengers in front of me to begin moving into the aisle and out of the plane before I stood and followed them, exiting the plane and entering the airport. I reached the terminal and saw Samira standing directly to the right of it, scanning the crowd to find me. Her eyes fell on me and she jerked her head to the side as an indicator to follow her.
I followed closely behind, my carry on suitcase rolling behind me across the linoleum floors as I walked hastily to keep up with Samira, whose pace was more like a sprint than a walk. Sometimes I swore that she was purposely trying to lose me in some unfamiliar airport. We made it to the exit and she checked her phone,
"Look for a blue Kia Sorento," she said, putting her hand over her eyes to shade them from the sun as she squinted out into the busy pickup lane.
"I haven't the slightest idea what that looks like," I replied.
"SUV, blue, says Kia on the front," she responded sarcastically.
"Got it."
She found it before I did and pointed to the car, waving them down. The driver turned on his hazards and pulled close to the curb. Samira got into the front seat and I slid into the back with my suitcase. The driver wordlessly marked that he had picked us up on the app and then began driving to our destination.
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"How was the flight?" Samira asked. I looked up from my phone,
"Remind me to shell out the extra money for first class next time. Or request a window seat if you can," I replied. Samira laughed,
"Noted," she said.
"And how was your flight?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary." She said simply. And then the conversation was over. Moments like these reminded me that she was my agent, not my friend.
I went back to staring at the message screen on my phone with Zach's contact name at the top, waiting for me to finally make a move. The absurdity of the situation was the most frustrating part. Why couldn't I just send a quick 'hey' or just decide not to message him at all? Why did I care so much about making a first impression on this man?
I finally settled on "Hello" and pressed send. The message flew to the top of the screen in a small blue bubble. Small letters underneath read "Delivered." I clicked my phone back off and slid it into my pocket.
"Remind me what we're doing in Boston again?" I asked Samira.
"Book signings and a meeting with a publisher."
"And then after that's all done?"
"Then you can go home like you wanted," Samira replied, turning around to face me. I nodded. Was that what I wanted? My brain felt like static on a tv screen, fuzzy and with no clear direction.
"Ok," I replied quietly. Samira stared at me a moment longer before turning back around.
"Do you want me to book the return flight or are you going to handle that?" she asked, not looking up from her phone.
"I got it."
She didn't reply and I took my phone back out to start searching for flights back to Georgia. As I scrolled through the options, my phone vibrated and a text notification appeared at the top of my screen.
"Hey author boy," it read from "Zach (bookstore guy)." A smile slowly spread across my face and I clicked on the text, opening the message and leaving the flight booking page I had been browsing. And then that same stuck feeling returned. I thought about different ways to continue the conversation before settling on,
"How's it going?"
The message seemed stupid just like this whole situation. Was I really that desperate for a friend?
The car slowed to a stop and I looked up from my phone as the driver pulled up against the sidewalk in front of the hotel. I thanked the driver as I opened the door and grabbed my suitcase, sliding across the seat so I could exit straight onto the sidewalk. Samira got out of the car and rounded the front of it to get to the sidewalk as well. The driver pulled off and Samira immediately began walking towards the hotel. I followed behind her into the main lobby and my phone buzzed again.
"Not bad, just having dinner. Hbu?" Zach had texted back. I started to text back but Samira called to me,
"Preston!" I looked up and saw her a few feet ahead, standing at the front desk. I jogged over to her. "Reservations are under Alexander Preston," she said to the front desk associate and the young man looked for the reservation for a second before finding it and making our room keys. He gave us the checkout times and directed us to the elevators after telling us what floor our rooms were on.
We got on the elevator and Samira remarked,
"You seem distracted."
"What do you mean?" I asked, playing dumb. I didn't want to discuss the details of my sad social life with my agent of all people.
"Just distracted. Fix that before we meet with the publishing company tomorrow, a new contract could depend on it." She said. We rode the rest of the way in silence. The doors opened to the sixth floor and Samira exited before me, walking down the hall to her room. I went the opposite direction towards mine and I scanned my keycard once I reached the door with my room number, pushing it open into yet another hotel room. I set my luggage to the side and sat down in the chair beside the window next to the bed. I took my phone back out and replied to Zach,
"Just got to my hotel in Boston."
My phone buzzed before I even had a chance to set it down,
"Nice! I love Boston," Zach responded.
"I've never been. Hardly left the South before this whole book thing," I text back. Zach reacted to the text with an exclamation mark and text back,
"Welcome to the Northeast" complete with a smiley emoji. I smiled,
"Thanks. Maybe New Hampshire will be next"
"It should be! Swing by before you leave for home, you can take the Amtrak in!"
I considered for a moment and pulled up the Amtrak page to see how long the train ride would be from Boston to New Hampshire. It was nearly 10 hours. Though it wasn't like I had anywhere else to be. I'd have to see how the meeting tomorrow went and how I was feeling.
"Maybe I will" I text back.
"Awesome! Let me know and I could pick you up from the Durham station. I live in Loudon but I drive that way a lot to take the Amtrak."
"That's really nice of you."
"I try to be nice. Most of the time." Zach text back with a winking emoji.
I wasn't sure how to respond so I left my phone on the bed while I showered. My stomach rumbled as I finished my shower and I looked at the time on the bedside clock as I walked out of the bathroom with a towel tied around my waist. It was nearly 9pm. I grabbed my phone again and opened my messages,
"Any food places you suggest that are still open and deliver?" I texted Zach. I watched the three bubbles appear as he started typing a response.
"Tasty Burger is open late and delivers through most apps," he replied.
"Thanks!" I replied and I pulled up their menu. Within a few minutes, I had a burger and fries ordered and headed my way.
"No problem! I've got to be up early for work tomorrow so I'm going to bed. It has been nice talking to you, Alex."
"You too!" I text back. I clicked off my phone and tried to ignore the gnawing anticipation in my stomach. I couldn't figure out why I wanted to keep texting with Zach. The last few months had served to remind me how lonely I really was. Even though I was surrounded by hundreds of people every day, I felt entirely alone. I wasn't depressed, not quite, but I definitely wanted more than just a few exchanges with complete strangers. That explanation served to rationalize my feelings about Zach's texts.
My phone vibrated as it rang and I felt my heart accelerate. I grabbed the phone and answered it,
"I'm in the lobby," the voice on the other end said. I held my phone out, confused, and then I noticed the number wasn't one I had saved, it was my food. I felt a rush of embarrassment as the realization set in that I had hoped it was Zach calling me. I really needed to get out more.
"Coming down," I said and then hung up. I slid my phone into my pocket and made my way to the lobby. Tomorrow I would need to be focused the book signings and the meeting with the publishing company, these feelings would have to be worked through another time. A therapist might be a worthwhile investment.