The two days til Maxxie was getting back trickled by agonisingly slow. When it seemed like an hour had go by, it’d actually been about 10 minutes. How was I s’posed to sit through like forty-eight hours of that? They eventually slid by, though, and soon enough I was at the airport. Sure, I might’ve gotten there two hours early but I felt like maybe if the plane knew I was already it might speed up a little bit just for me. Stupid, I know.
Two hours later and I was practically buzzing as the realisation that I’d see Maxxie again in a few minutes hit me. I stood on my toes, trying to get a decent glimpse of the people emerging to greet their loved ones. Fuck you, shortness. But once they started leaving and I could see a little better, there was no sign of Maxxie. I asked the girl at the information desk when the next flight from London was just in case he’d missed the plane or something and sat myself down for a long wait.
By the time the next plane arrived, there was still no sign of Maxxie. It’s still possible that he could miss two planes, right? Right...? I pulled my phone out of my pocket to see if he’d called me or something and I just hadn’t noticed but nope, nothing. Which was when I decided to text him.
‘Did your mom kidnap you or something?’
After about twenty minutes with no reply I sent him another text.
‘You know you had a plane to catch, right?’
And after that... I pretty much sent him a text every ten minutes and tried to call him in between each text. I’m well aware I sound really paranoid and needy but to be honest, I don’t really care.
‘Where are you?’
‘Call me as soon as you get this’
‘Maxxie, please call me. I’m worried’
I’m sure you can sort of picture the rest of it. After an hour or two of no response, I gave up even thought I’d almost been considering texting him ‘we’re through’ just to see if I’d get a response. I decided against it since he might take it seriously and go find some cute English guy to replace me. I left the airport with my head hung in defeat. Maybe he’d gone back to England without me because he wanted to move back... Maybe that was why he chickened out of proposing; because he changed his mind and didn’t want me anymore. No, stop thinking like that. I couldn’t help but think it, though. I drove around town for a while before giving in and going back home and cuddling Maxxie’s shirt again for the millionth time.
Where are you, Maxxie?