Friday Story — A Slow walk.

Kate got out of the shuttle and made her way through the doors of Changi airport. She stared down kilometres of carpet that stretched in either direction, not knowing which way to go. Staff on Segues flew by, weaving in out of the travellers that didn’t seem to know where they were. A golf cart with a woman resting a broken leg on the front of it shot past with its blue light flashing, suitcases piled on the back. It was like stepping into a miniature city, a hive of activity where every person going one way had two or more going the other.

Her watch read 8:13 am. She had hours to kill before her flight. Kate hated airports. Their whole transitional state, no one really wanting to be there, though their need dictating they should be. She started walking, not really fussed about in what direction. Was he up? Had he found her note? She kept walking, everything to her left and right a blur. Kate hadn’t been sure what day it was, she just knew that it had to be today, this morning, now. She had risen, packed her things in the pre-dawn darkness from the apartment they shared, ordered an Uber and left. She’d bought a ticket at the Qantas counter. She’d go home. What did that even look like? How long had it been? She hadn’t spoken to her parents for a while, having slipped from calling every other month to not calling at all. And it made her think. About the humidity of Singapore, the ex-pats they hung out with, the endless shopping, the tree-lined streets, the cleanliness of it all, about the fact that she did it in a daze day after day, without any real point to it at all, just being. Hadn’t that been what she’d wanted? To have the freedom to choose what to fill her day with. A thought had nested inside her head, something small at first, gently pulling her from whatever task she’d set herself. Though the more time she gave it, the more it grew, before it rose like a bubble inside her head, then forced its way out of her mouth. And she said this: Any purpose I might have once had, has been reshaped to his. And with that realisation, things had started to unravel.

She pushed her way through double glass doors, not quite believing it as she walked through chained curtains to find herself in an atrium of butterflies. Neon-blues, blacks, and greens, yellows, purples, and whites, either floated or flitted past her like cotton wool on a string. Kate looked around, wondering if her face had the same smile on it that so many others did. Why was she here? He was a good guy, a decent man. Was he? During the week she saw him when he woke her in the morning and usually, again after she’d eaten at night. Though she could see what was happening. The groups they existed with, clung to from day to day, celebrated alongside as the next promotion or car came in. It wasn’t what she wanted.

She left the butterflies, looked at a bank of duty-free shops and walked past them. Would he come after her once he read it? Did she want him too? Kate ordered coffee and took a seat at the breakfast bar, watched people come and go. She wanted to go somewhere with them. Anywhere. She hated the fact that her first inclination was to go home. Her life, all that she had done, everything up until this point, felt like nothing more than an epic failure. Yet she had no one else to blame, but herself. She’d let it happen. She cradled her coffee with two hands gently in front of her face, let the warmth and the smell of the caffeine wrap itself around her, then corrected herself. They were both to blame. She’d supported him for years and he hadn’t supported her back. Yes, he’d paid for everything, though should that be the sum of everything? Kate thought about what she had sacrificed, the friends, the people, the career she had left behind. The life she had put on hold. And for what? Because it had been easy. She ordered something stronger. Everyone around her was drinking. It probably wasn’t the morning for most of them, so it wouldn’t be for her. She ordered a G&T. The alcohol ran through her system, calmed her. She toyed with the wedge of lime, pushed it between ice cubes with a steel straw, then watched it float to the surface. Her gate was being called. She checked her phone. Nothing there. He didn’t care. She had sensed it, no, had known it, though up until this point hadn’t don’t anything about it.

She finished her drink, collected her carry-on case and wheeled it to the nearest map to find her gate. It looked like it was at the other end of the building. She turned on her heel and strode for it. Thoughts crashed through her head. Was she doing the right thing? She kept going. Her phone stayed silent in her pocket. At the gate, the last of the queue disappeared in front of her, staff looked at each other, their watches, then moved to close the gate. She could miss it. Return and write it all off as a misunderstanding. Then what? They were still looking at her. Her legs wouldn’t move. She could see the woman’s mouth moving, the man’s arms beckoning her forward. Kate turned around, searched the carpet for any sign of familiarity. There was none. She could feel the tears before they came, pooling in her eyes before they spilt over the bottom of her eyelids and ran down her cheeks. She held the ticket out, scanned it, they dropped their eyes as she passed. Then she was gone, walking towards uncertainty, though pleased to be going somewhere when her phone buzzed to life. She ignored it and stepped on to the plane.