Andrew pulls out into the traffic with speed and I dial Kate’s number. Ring, ring . . . ring, ring . . . ring, ring.
“Come on, pick up. Pick up,” I whisper. It rings out and I dial her number again. I imagine her staring at her phone ignoring my call and my fury begins to boil.
At her, at me . . . at this entire fucked-up situation.
Why did she run out in the middle of the night, what was she thinking?
When this is all over, I’m going to kill her . . . that’s if I don’t have a heart attack beforehand. I peer through the windshield. “Drive faster.”
“I am.” Andrew huffs as he changes lane, then he changes lane again and I dial Kate’s number with my heart in my throat.
Please pick up, baby.
It rings out again. “Answer your fucking phone, Kathryn,” I yell as I hit my phone on the back of the seat in anger.
Andrew’s eyes flick up to mine in the rearview mirror. “Don’t fucking start!” I growl.
He puts his foot down and we fly through the traffic, and half an hour later we pull up at the airport.
I dive out of the backseat and run in, my eyes scanning the check-in lines as I turn in a 360.
“Where are you?” I whisper to myself. “Kate.” I begin to panic that I’m not going to find her, there are too many people. “Don’t do this, please.” I run along the back of the check-in queues as I search for her. I get to one end and run back to where I began: perhaps she’s already gone through.
I run to the security checkpoint and stand in line. “Come on, come on,” I mutter. I look around the line to the security guards, working at a snail’s pace.
Hurry the fuck up.
I run my hands through my hair in a complete panic. Every minute that ticks past . . . is a minute I’ve lost to stop her.
Finally I get to the checkpoint and walk through the scanner, and it dings.
Fuck.
“Just step back through sir.”
“I don’t have time for this,” I stammer. I go back through the scanner, it dings again, and I bend and tear off my shoes and throw them to the side, rip my belt off and hurl it on the floor. I go back through the scanner and no alarm goes off.
“Thank fuck.” I pick up my belongings and tuck them under my arm and I run as fast as I can, until I get to an intersection. Six huge corridors go in different directions leading to the departure gates.
No.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I look at my options: what way should I go?
Umm. “Which way?” I’m panting as I gasp for breath. “Right.” I run to the right down a corridor. This is hopeless, I’m never going to find her. “Fuck’s sake.”
I keep running and I just happen to glance to the side and I see the back of Kate, just as she goes through the boarding gate. “Kate,” I cry as I take off in that direction. “Kate.”
She doesn’t hear me and she goes through the double doors.
“Kate,” I yell as loud as I can. People turn and stare and I get to the flight attendants who are doing the check-in.
I gasp for air. “I need to get someone off the plane,” I pant.
“I’m sorry, sir, that’s impossible.”
“No.” I put my hand on my chest. Fuck, I can’t breathe. “You don’t understand, it’s an emergency.”
“You’re too late.”
“No,” I yell. “Kate. I’m here,” I cry. “Come back.”