The Fracture - Ground Zero

I rush through the busy airport terminal, checking my messages for the third time since landing. My friend, Damon, swore he’d be there to pick me up when I landed. I check his message from yesterday again as I make my way through the corridor to the baggage hold.

“hey princess, know ur takin off @ 10am over there and landing bout 12pm, gate 5 - pinky promise I’ll b the 1st face u see wen u arrive, lookin forward to seeing u, I missed u so much! Xx”

I collect my suitcase, feeling the homesickness mixing with the anticipation.

I can’t wait to see everyone, and go home, back to my routines after being away for a tech convention in another country. There’s a bounce in my step despite the heaviness of my case as I make my way through the crowded hold.

I mentally go over my plan for this afternoon again, every interaction meticulously planned already.

First, grab something quick to eat, maybe something easy, like McDonalds, then drop in at the Cipriani Estate, to check in with my family, let them know I’ve landed and drop off my bags, before going to get ready for some party my twin Carlotta has been planning for weeks.

I finally reach the exit, my eyes scanning every waiting face there, but they fail to fall on the person they’re looking for.

Typical. As I turn, looking, my fingers mess with my key necklace absently.

“He’s probably just… running late. Give him the benefit of the doubt… again.”

I wade my way through the crowded terminal while my ears scream at me to get out of the noise, to the Costa Coffee. I grab a large to-go latte.

After all, I don’t plan on spending long here - he should be here soon, right?

Against my better judgement, to escape the overwhelming pressure of the claustrophobic airport, I choose the frozen seats outside to sit at, to see if I can see his car pulling in.

I try to wrap my coat tighter as I pull my phone back out and try ringing him, but I’m sent to voicemail every time I do. I sigh in frustration, but make up excuses, to try and forgive the reason he might not be able to answer.

He’d told me the time and the gate I’d be leaving from, so he’d better have a damn good excuse.

I bet it’s because of Tori.

He’d sworn up and down that he’d cut her off completely this time, that she was a “psycho” who wouldn’t “leave him alone”.

I’d be willing to put money on it being because of Tori.

Ring his phone.

Voicemail.

I roll my eyes.

I’m getting real sick of him pulling this shit.

It doesn’t take long to finish the coffee. I sit there, freezing, scrolling through various social medias with stiff fingers, waiting.

I try ringing him several more times, my patience waning as I look up at the thick clouds rolling past, before turning my attention back to my feed, the hustle and bustle of the pickup zone becoming a buzzing backdrop as I doom-scroll.

I ignore the impulse to text him, just on the off chance he’s driving… Oh who the fuck am I kidding?

It’s not like it would go through anyway.

My waiting mode keeps me flicking the screen mindlessly, barely registering the time as I sit, waiting for something, anything, to come through from Damon.

I eventually get bored and open the e-book I’d been reading and just…wait, like I’m meant to do.

He’d pinky sworn, after all.

After a while I look up and notice the bustle of the airport has hit a lull. How long have I been waiting? I shiver in my fleeced coat, blow on my fingers, now pinkish-red from the biting cold, in an attempt to bring some feeling back to the tips as I curse the motherfucker for not showing silently.

I stand, my legs aching from sitting still for so long, feeling agitated and upset, to head back inside the now-too-warm coffee shop. Finally, I decide it’s time to call for some backup, hesitant at the idea of resorting to a taxi.

I scold myself silently, telling myself that I should have brung my own fucking car - I wouldn’t have had to deal with this bullshit, at least. I should have trusted my gut.

I order another large latte to go just before I hit the phone icon under my sister’s name. I thank the barista with a hopefully cheerful but probably strained smile as Carlotta answers. There’s a distinct slurred edge marring her tone as she rambles to someone away from the phone.

I groan quietly and brace myself as I step back outside into the cold; this means she’s been pre-drinking and her filter will be tenuous at best.

“Anastasia!” she slurs, sounding happy and annoyed simultaneously, as I sit back down at the frozen table. “We were expecting you here ages ago to get ready for the party, where the hell are you?”

“Yeah about that…” I say, my voice quieter than I’d intended, already bracing for her bluntness. “I’m…” I pause before sighing, resigned to telling her.

“I’m stranded at the airport, is there anyone who can come and get me? I don’t want to resort to a taxi if I can avoid it.” I balance my phone on my shoulder as I clutch the cup, trying desperately to warm my numb fingers.

“You are joking right?” She waits as if waiting for a punchline. After a couple of seconds of silence, “So you’re serious? Everyone here has been drinking, even Matt, so no-one can drive now.”

“I could ring -” I begin, but she cuts me off.

“Mason? It’s his mandatory time off, as per his contract, you know this Ana.” her voice stops, before becoming scathing and disdainful. “Can you not ring that manchild you keep calling a ‘best friend’? Wasn’t that little rat meant to come and get you anyway?”

“Come on, Lotta, we’re not kids, leave the names out,” I mutter, already knowing she’s not going to stop. “The thing is… Damon…”

I hear myself stalling.

“Come on Anastasia, out with it before my drink runs out.” She snaps a little at me and I brace.

“He was meant to come and get me when I landed… and he hasn’t shown, and I can’t … get through to him… again.” I admit this slowly, quietly, with a small wince. “It’s probably not his fault though, he probably - ” My defence of Damon is quick, instinctive, but her shutdown is just as quick, this time harsh and cold.

“You’re telling me the thing that will fuck anything with a pulse, broke another promise and fucking flaked again? Well! Colour me fucking shocked, Ana.” Her slurred words are dripping with sarcasm, cutting more than they should.

I can almost picture her eyes narrowing as she says it. “So, go on - How long has it abandoned you for this time?” Her tone is snotty, almost… condescending.

“I landed at 12…” I murmur down the line, my eyes closing tight. My back straightens, goosebumps rising on my skin under the coat, like someone poured ice down it.

She doesn’t respond for a long time - well long enough for me to check my screen to make sure she’s still on the line at least.

“Lotta?” I ask tentatively. There’s a short, cold noise that finally crackles through the phone.

“Three and a half hours?” Her voice morphs. I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve heard this scary ass tone.

I instinctively shiver, but it’s not from the cold air.

“I know but -” I start.

“Ana….” Her voice matches the icy chill of the English winter.

“He could have -”

“Anastasia Elise Cipriani!” She snaps, her slurred tone gone, now sharper, harsher. “Will you stop trying to make excuses for someone that barely fucking deserves them?! Why the fuck didn’t you call someone when he failed to show hours ago?” I flinch, shoulders coming up to my ears as I let the impact land. My eyes squeeze shut and I get defensive immediately.

“I’m not making excuses, I didn’t realise how long I’d been waiting! I was scrolling, reading and I lost track of time!” I protest, my voice cracking a little. Her silence says everything. “I’m being honest, Lotta!”

“I’m ringing Theo.” Carlotta says coldly enough that my stomach sinks.

“NO!” I exclaim too loudly, eyes flying open, my heart hitting my throat. Some passers-by jump and look at me as I do, making me shrink in my seat. She laughs a harsh, short laugh.

“You think you have a say in this now?” I hear her pacing, her heels clunking over the line. “You’ve been waiting for what? Three and a half fucking hours already for a rat that’s not going to show!” Her voice calms a little after the outburst as I hear her pace her breathing.

“Like I said, no-one here can drive now. We’re an hour and a half out, where Theo’s thirty minutes out, if that.” I hear another scoff down the line, the scathing tone returning a tad. “What, you’re gonna sleep in the terminal until morning? Or wait until the little bastard remembers you actually exist for a change? Be so fucking for real for once, Ana.”

“I can get the taxi…” I mutter reluctantly, my shoulders tensing further, my neck starting to ache. My mind spirals with the broken script of the day, knowing she won’t agree.

“Oh, don’t be so fucking stubborn.” She snips at me. “Is the Costa still open?” I hear her voice soften a tiny bit as she asks.

“I already have a coffee.” I say quietly, holding up the takeaway cup, even though she can’t see.

“Good. I’m sure you can wait a little while longer so I can get you home safely without you needing to resort to using public transport.”