Chapter Eight: Mac's Return

When Monday finally arrived, I immediately rushed to the airport, to see Mac again. During his stay in London, he would email me once during the night, wait for my answer, and then he would reply to me the next night. In his last email, he told me to meet him at J. F. Kennedy Airport, just as I always would whenever he was coming home back to the city of New York. And I wait for him, a coffee in each of my hands, watching the crowd to see the person I love appear standing across from me.

The time seems to tick by ever-so-slowly; each moment that passes by seems longer and more excruciating. Crowds of people traveling alone and families walk by me, not any of the people that walk by me are Mac. The coffees are getting colder, and the coffee in my cup in almost gone as I keep drinking it. I finally get tired of standing and slouch down in a seat. I look besides me and see a man asleep with his mouth wide open. I instantly take my gaze away from him and move a seat away.

I awake from a nap with a magazine in my lap, which I had been reading earlier. It told of European travel and my mind goes back to the letter Mac had sent me during his first time to London, saying he wanted to take me there. I ponder about whether or not he'll take me there, but even if we did go, escaping from Peyton would be an impossible task.

I read the label on the coffee cup, which said, 'Warning contains hot contents'. I would now change the label to, 'Warning contains bland, cold contents, and its hours old'. I would buy Mac a new cup of coffee once he arrived.

Did I mention his flight came in at seven? I came to the airport at five thirty, only because I wanted to be early. I probably should have thought about buying him coffee around six thirty… I glanced at the clock overhead and realize that I've been asleep since six thirty—the wide opened mouth guy was still asleep, I wondered how long he'd really been there—and the time now is eight. I hadn't gotten that much sleep the night before, thinking about Mac's arrival on Monday, but I didn't think I'd be asleep for almost two hours at the airport waiting for him to arrive. His flight had gotten delayed…

I put the old coffee cup next to the sleeping man; maybe he'd want it when he woke up. I saved him from spending a few bucks. I threw my coffee away, for I had finished it way before I fell asleep.

I'm able to get through security and I sit in the waiting room, waiting, of course, for the plane coming from London Heathrow. I look around and see there are only a few people in the room, but with no flight departing from the gate after the one from London came in, there wouldn't be a big crowd. At this moment, though, I felt the emotion of fretfulness was exceeding, and I contemplate whether Mac's plane had crashed. Though I didn't believe that fully, airport officials would have gone around saying something about a crash if there had been one.

I close my eyes again, to see nothing but blackness. I can't sleep anymore; I won't let myself even think about slumber until I know he is okay. When he is here by my side, then I'll be able to sleep again.

Looking out the glass windows I see planes coming in, and I'm wishing that one of them is Mac's. The night sky is barely visible through the mass of the clouds, the night seems darker than usual, and I can't see the moon through the clouds. As I take my gaze off the sky, I see an airplane moving closer and closer to the gate, and in realization, I see that it's the plane that came from London Heathrow. I smile, and as I do, rain begins to lightly fall from the heavens, knocking on the window in front of me.

I turn away from the sight of the plane and sit back down. I keep my gaze on the door that would soon reveal Mac, and my gaze is so focused on the door that I don't even realize that Mac is staring at me, finding it hard not to laugh.

"Stella?"

I look up. "Mac, when did you…?"

"Blink once and you missed me," he says, putting down his bag and helping me up from the chair. Almost suddenly does he pull me into an embrace, but even my revelation doesn't stop me from holding on tight to him.

"Mac," I say, after a few seconds go by, "you're hugging me. Did something happen with you and Peyton?"

"No," he replies quickly. "I just missed you, Stella."

"I missed you, too." We're still hugging, and when he finally lets go, we stay quiet, and I have to say, "Come on, let's get you a coffee," to move him from his stop. We pass the sleeping man and he's now awake—odd—and taking a sip of his free coffee. "That was going to be yours," I tell Mac. "But I kind of bought it early and it got cold, so I decided to be nice and give it to someone who might need it when they wake up."

"How early did you come here?" Mac asks as we purchase his coffee.

"Five thirty," I reply. "I thought your plane may come earlier than expected. But instead, it got delayed."

Mac nodded his agreement.

"Let me guess, the weather caused your plane to be late?"

"Yeah, though it wasn't that bad. All I had to think about was you, knowing you'd be waiting for me. Thinking about you helped me cope during the long wait."

I grin. I thought about you, too. How come it hadn't helped me during the long wait? "Glad to be home?" I ask, wanting to know the reason for the extensive hug.

"Yeah, I kind of missed New York," Mac says.

We've collected his baggage now, I had volunteered to wheel it out of the airport for him; thank God it was only one suitcase. We're quiet as I pull the suitcase behind me, my shoes clanging on the tile floor. It's the fresh air outside that makes our conversation start up again.

"I'll drive you home," I say. "I don't want you to be alone again."

He looks at me questioningly, wondering what I meant by him being alone again. I'm thinking, you faced a six hour flight alone and spent most of the day in an airport, waiting for your plane to arrive alone. "Thanks for the offer, Stella, but I think I can get home by myself."

I grab his hand. "Come on. You'd have to wait for a taxi. It'll be quicker if I drive you home."

He doesn't protest, and I don't have to drag him all the way to my car, so it seems as though he wanted me to drive him home. And it's a good thing I did because he falls asleep during the ride. I let myself smile, now that he has returned home, he can finally get the rest he needs.

When I pull up to his apartment, I prod his shoulder with my hand to wake him, and he looks up at me sleepily. "Didn't mean to disrupt your sleep, but I thought you might want see your apartment before the sun rises."

He smiles and then gets out of the car, this time taking his suitcase. As we walk up the stairs to his apartment, he asks me, "Is there any other suggestions you have for this evening?"

Understanding his joking tone, I say, "Well, for one, make sure you get plenty of sleep, so that means no staying up late. And I don't want to see you show up for work early tomorrow, like I said, get all the rest you can get. Oh, yeah, now that Thanksgiving is over, you may want to start thinking about putting up Christmas decorations…"

He has already opened the door, and he says, "Goodnight, Stella."

Knowing I went a little overboard on the list, I say, "Goodnight, Mac," and wave to him before he closes the door. And when I finally arrive home, I fall asleep before my head even hits the pillow.