Claimed for Christmas

Chapter Seven

Adjusting the strap of my bag, I search for signs that will lead me toward security and start my journey through the labyrinth that is the Maine international airport.

Security is a breeze, did you know that first class passengers have their own line? I didn’t! Five minutes from stepping into the roped off area to grabbing my bag on the other end of the scanner! I didn’t even have to fight for one of those grey bins to put my crap into, s.hit, no wonder First Class flyers are such pompous d***s, I would be too if I was treated like this everyday.

I walk with everyone else, heading into departures and following signs that are hanging overhead that direct me toward the lounge that the check in clerk informed me about.

The doors ahead of me are gilded, the glass frosted with the name of the lounge written across the centre in calligraphy giving off a members only feel to it. Reaching out, I grab one of the handles, pulling the heavy door toward me, and stepping inside. I’m confronted with an opulent reception area which is manned by two young men who are dressed in matching, perfectly pressed uniforms. I glance down at my own attire, faded jeans and a collared t-shirt that though it matches my eyes, shows me up to be what I am, a guy who is here through luck rather than anything else. Along with my favourite sneakers poking out from underneath the bottom of my jeans, I look completely out of place in this executive area.

‘Welcome sir, may I have your boarding pass?’ one of the receptionists asks, holding out his hand to me as look at him in surprise.

The young man smiles, his gaze roaming over me quickly, but more in a ‘you are cute’ way rather than a ‘why are you here’ way.

‘Your boarding pass sir, so I can check you in’ he repeats, as I blink before hurrying forward, digging into my bag for the piece of card that proves I am indeed allowed to be here. It takes me a second to find it as my fingers have decided to start trembling, but I finally manage to catch the edge of my passport, pulling it out and slipping the boarding card out form between the pages before handing it over to the waiting man. I grip my passport tightly as I wait, trying not to look nervous as the receptionist checks the boarding pass, swiping it through a machine on the desk, before handing it back with a practiced smile.

‘Thank you sir, enjoy your stay here in the executive lounge, if you need anything just let myself or one of my colleagues know and we will be happy to help you.’

I nod quickly, taking back my boarding pass and moving to the side, before heading in the direction he indicates. I walk through another set of frosted glass double doors that open up to a huge room with floor to ceiling windows on one side that give a panoramic view of the runway outside.

Small seating areas cover the floor, some occupied by other travellers, some reading, others working, more still that are drinking coffee as they watch the planes out of the window.

I let out a small breath as I see other people dressed similar to myself, not feeling so out of place anymore.

I head toward a table for two by the window, slipping into one of the chairs as I place my small bag by my feet.

‘Good morning sir, can I get you something to drink?’ a voice asks, making me jump as I turn to find a waiter at my elbow, pad and pencil in hand, looking down at me expectantly. ‘A coffee? Juice? Or perhaps something a little stronger?’

‘Uhh . . a coffee please’ I reply uncertainly, watching him as he writes it down.

‘And anything to eat sir? The kitchen is open for hot food, or there are cold items in the self serve area. If you’d like a recommendation, the bacon baguette with brie is particularly popular.’

I nod, ‘yeah, I’ll have one of those’ I agree quickly, ‘thebacon and brie thing you said.’ The waiter smiles indulgently placing a napkin on the table before nodding to a plastic menu on the table. ‘The continental options are listed on the menu sir, if you would like anything else. Please relax and I will bring over your drink and meal as soon as they are ready.’ He gives me another practiced smile, before moving away, heading toward table next to me where a woman in a power suit with a laptop balanced on her knees is signalling him.

I settle back in my seat, glancing around at the other passengers who all seem to be either extremely busy or like myself, holiday makers. A couple to my right are laughing, each holding a flute of champagne as the woman giggles, tilting her glass to clink his as a ring sparkles on her finger under the lights.

Newly engaged? Just married? I muse as I watch them, the woman reaching out and brushing a stray hair from his forehead before he grabs her hand and pulls it to his lips, kissing her pulse point as she smiles softly.

Not wanting to be caught staring at them, I look away, grabbing my bag from the floor, and quickly pulling out my cell phone, opening the screen, a heavy sigh leaving me as I see that there are already four messages waiting for me from my mother.

I press on the first, ‘don’t forget to bring your scarf and those thick gloves I got you last year, it’s pretty cold here right now, I thought I’d better remind you as it’s been so long since you saw a Littleford winter.’

I roll my eyes, as I scroll to the next message on the list.

‘Did you pack that nice shirt I sent you for your birthday? We’re having a small get together Christmas eve, I thought you could wear it . . . next door has been invited, he is bringing his grandson, I’m not suggesting anything! I just think it would be good to make a nice first impression . . . just in case.’

‘Jesus Christ mother’ I mutter, scrolling further where she’s checking I’ve packed enough underwear for the week and then twenty minutes later messaging again saying it’s fine if I haven’t as she’s bought me some just in case when she was at the grocery store this morning.

I groan loudly as I drop my head back on my shoulders, and she wonders why I don’t want to come home each year! I’ve been living alone for six years, feeding myself, cleaning my apartment and she still thinks I can’t pack enough underwear without her!

Ping! I look down at my mother’s name yet again, rolling my eyes as I open the message thread once more.

‘Don’t eat too much before your flight Elijah, you know you get travel sick.’

I close my eyes, taking a calming breath, before opening them again and typing back.

‘Once mother! I threw up once in the car when I was eleven coming back from Gigi and Paw’s house! I had a stomach bug at the time that I caught from Uncle Reggie! I have never been sick travelling again!’ I reply, pressing the letters a little harder than necessary.

The three dots flicker at the bottom of the screen as I wait reluctantly for my mother to reply. ‘Take a sickness tablet just in case, and ask the stewardesses for a bag to be on the safe side. Airline food isn’t the best, and all that recycled air, you are just asking to be ill Elijah’ she finally replies as I groan.

‘Mom, I’ll be fine, I’m a grown ass man, I’ve been looking after myself for years all on my own you know’ I send back.

‘Well excuse me for caring’ my mother replies, ‘don’t cry to me when you arrive feeling nauseous later! Maybe I just won’t care when you want your temple rubbed and for me to sing your song!’

I laugh, shaking my head as my fingers fly over the screen, ‘don’t even pretend that you wouldn’t do that if I turn up sick, you know you’d baby me relentlessly.’

The three dots appear again before, ‘well obviously I would, you are my baby boy! I could never leave you to fend alone if you were sick! I’ll make you some winter soup for when you get here, just in case and I’ll put some tissues in your room . . .’

I shake my head as I smile to myself, damn I love that woman, even if she does drive me crazy sometimes.