Delayed
DELAYED.
Eva checked again, running her gaze along the glowing blue strip.
Yup. Flight AC 132 to Toronto — DELAYED. For hours.
She sighed, shifting her backpack. Half a day alone in the Calgary airport. Great. Eva pulled her phone out to message her parents, who were already across the country waiting for her.
My flight’s delayed until 8:00, she typed in their chat.
We just saw, her mom replied. Will you be all right? I could text Alicia to see if she could come pick you up for a few hours?
Ugh. Mom’s old university roommate who played Christian radio twenty-four seven and smelled like cats. No, it’s okay. Don’t want to bother her. I can hang out here. I’ll just find a corner somewhere and study.
You packed food like we told you, right? Her dad joined the conversation. Airport food is overpriced.
Of course, Dad.
Are you sure you don’t mind being alone in the airport for so long? her mom asked again.
I’ll be fine. I’ll text you when I board.
Okay, Evie. Dad will be there to meet you.
Make sure you get some sleep on the plane, Dad added. Long day tomorrow.
I will.
Eva put her phone away and looked around. Instead of the quick connection she was expecting through Calgary, she had all the time in the world. There was a crowded bistro down the way with a fluffy chocolate chip muffin on a sign that called to her and her rumbling stomach. She had not, in fact, packed any food, but she did have some cash saved up from babysitting.
One open table waited for her in a pool of white early afternoon sunlight filtering in through the concourse’s glass ceiling. She was scanning the menu looking for something cheap but filling when a voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Do you mind if I join you?” A sweet voice, low and warm.
Eva looked up. It was a girl — no, a woman, she reminded herself — about her age. Wide-set indigo blue eyes and a mess of long, wavy black hair that shone in the sun. Terra-cotta skin. Gorgeous.
The woman’s smile faltered while Eva stared. “I’m sorry, it’s packed in here and I’m starving and … you look friendly.”
“Of course,” Eva stammered, pulling her backpack out of the way. “Yes, please. Sit.”
The woman slid into the chair and let her shoulder bag fall to the ground. It was well-worn caramel-coloured leather with buttons and pins all over. Rainbows. Cartoon characters. Quips and swear words. “Hi,” she said, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “I’m Bianca, but people call me Bee.”
“Evangeline. Eva.”
“Nice to meet you, Eva. Where are you going?”
“Toronto. My flight’s delayed though. I don’t fly out till eight.”
Bee leaned forward, propping her chin in her hand, like Eva was the most interesting person in the world. “What’s in Toronto?” Her loose, white peasant top slid down her shoulder.
“My cousin’s wedding. My parents flew out a few days ago, but I couldn’t miss class. Finals start next week.”
“Sounds like fun,” Bee said. “The wedding, not the finals.”
Ugh. Not at all. Relentless questions and unwanted comments from dozens of relatives she barely knew and hadn’t seen since the last wedding. Her throat closed up just thinking about it. She changed the subject. “Where are you going?”
“Home to Vancouver. Was just here visiting a friend. My flight’s at eight-thirty. It was the cheapest one.” She laughed, her eyes the deep, bottomless blue of a glacier-carved lake.
“Why are you at the airport so early?”
Bee shrugged. “My friend had to work, so she dropped me off on the way. But honestly, I love hanging out in airports.”
A harried server appeared. “What can I get you two?”
Bee looked at Eva, waiting.
“Could I please have the tuna salad and a mocha?” Eva asked. “And a chocolate chip muffin?”
“Chai tea for me, and one of those muffins too, please.”
The server scrawled on her notepad and hurried away.
“What are you studying?” Bee asked.
Eva tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m working on a Bachelor of Education at the moment.”
“Have you always wanted to be a teacher?”
“Um…no? No.” Eva let out a sheepish laugh. “Not really. My parents think it’s a good idea. I can stay at home while I go to school, save money, and there are lots of jobs once I graduate.”
Bee frowned. “What do you really want to do, though?”
“Travel,” Eva blurted, without thinking. “And write. I’d love to have a travel blog, and write books about the places I go.”
“Now that sounds amazing. Where would you go first?”
Eva shifted, cheeks flushing. “Paris. I know it’s cliché, but I’ve always wanted to go there.” She heard her dad’s voice. Paris is overrated. Trust me, you wouldn’t like it.
Bee shook her head. “It’s not cliché, it’s iconic. Paris is Paris!”
The server dropped off their drinks and disappeared back into the crowd.
Eva blew on her mocha and took a slow sip. Heaven. Her parents told her she was still too young to drink coffee. “Do you go to school?” she asked Bee.
“Not yet.” Bee smiled. “Speaking of cliché, I’m taking a few years off to work and save up money, then I’m going to go to design school. I want to be a clothing designer.”
“Oh, cool. What kinds of clothes?” The easy chatting continued as they ate. The muffin wasn’t quite as fluffy as it looked on the sign, but it was tasty enough. When it came time to pay, Eva counted out the total plus a twenty percent tip, even though her dad said ten percent was the maximum you should ever leave, and only if the service was really good.
Bee leaned back in her chair, savouring the last of her tea. She peered at Eva over the rim. “Do you ever think about how no one in the world knows exactly where you are right now?”
Eva pinched her eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”
“Like, your family knows you’re in the Calgary airport, but that’s it. This is a huge place. And absolutely no one else knows you’re sitting here with me right now. You’re basically invisible. A ghost. It would be like that all the time if you were a travel writer.” Her eyes glimmered like the sun sparkling off the lake. “So, what should we do?”
Eva blinked as she processed the idea. “I don’t know.”
“Hmm.” Bee scrunched up her face for a second before she plunked her cup down. “Let’s go figure it out.” She gathered her bag and stood, offering her hand.
Eva took it. Her stomach swirled as she let Bee pull her to her feet.
They went down the concourse, still holding hands. Bee was small — at least a head shorter than Eva — but her grip was sure.
“Ooh, have you ever ridden the shuttle here?” Bee asked, spotting the rounded white tram heading their way.
“No.” Eva shook her head. “My parents say walking is better.”
“Better? Guess that depends on your definition.” Bee hauled Eva towards the pick-up point. “I think fun is better.”
The shuttle driver wore a white cowboy hat and greeted them with a huge smile. “Hop on, friends!”
They sat on the padded grey seats and were off, the air cool on Eva’s cheeks as they whirred along.
Bee’s leg pressed against Eva’s when she leaned over. “I have that exact hat,” she whispered, nodding at the driver. Her breath tickled.
Eva giggled. “Do you?”
“No. But I like it. Very Ralph Lauren spring collection.”
They watched the people pass — tired families carrying glassy-eyed children, business people yammering into phones, ambling backpackers with battered clothing and easy smiles. A whole world in one building. They rode the shuttle a while — two complete loops — until the driver began to shoot them pointed looks.
“Well, this is our stop!” Bee announced when they arrived at the same place they had boarded. “Thank you so much,” she said to the driver with a dazzling smile.
The driver tipped their hat. “Ma’am.”
They hopped off and wandered down the way, the white walls glowing in the buttery light streaming in through the windows. A plane rumbled by and they paused to watch it scream into the prairie sky.
“What’s next?” Bee asked once the plane was just a small grey blip in the endless blue. “Should we— Oh, look.” She pointed at two fire-engine red Adirondack chairs artfully arranged around a fake campfire for tourist photo ops. Behind the scene was a breathtaking Rocky Mountain backdrop with the caption ‘Experience Calgary’ scrawled along the top. Bee plopped down in one of the chairs. Eva followed.
Bee stretched her legs out. “Do you want to chill here a bit?”
“Sure. I should do some studying.” Eva pulled her Philosophy of Education text out of her backpack and held it up.
Bee made a face. “Do you really want to read that?”
“No! It’s boring as hell.”
Bee snickered and dug into her bag. “Have you read this before?” She showed Eva a well-loved paperback copy of Circe by Madeline Miller.
Eva shook her head, admiring the shining gold and black cover.
“Here.” Bee thrust it towards Eva with a rattle of her beaded bracelets. “You can have it.”
Eva tried to give it back. “I can’t take your book.”
“It’s fine. I have the hardcover at home.” Bee smiled. “Please?”
Eva smoothed her fingers over the title. “But what will you read?”
Bee reached back into her bag and retrieved an issue of Vogue. “I’m good.”
“Well, thank you.” Eva flipped to the first page and was instantly lost in Circe’s world. It wasn’t until her butt started to go numb that she noticed Bee had put her magazine aside.
“So good, right?” Bee asked when Eva looked up.
“So good. I love it.”
“I knew you would.” Bee reached out her hands and pretended to warm them on the pretend fire. “Do you have a boyfriend or anything?” she asked.
Eva shook her head, closing her book. “No. My parents think it’s not a good idea. Boys are too distracting and I’m too busy with school to have time for dating. Do you?”
“I just broke up with my girlfriend.”
“Oh.” Oh. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Turns out she wasn’t the person for me.”
Eva stared at the fake flames. “How do you think you know when you find that person?”
“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it, Evangeline? How do you know?” She leaned back in the chair and tilted her head. “I think . . . you’ll just feel it. You’ll feel like you’re whole. And not that you weren’t before, because you were. But you’re more complete now because you’re also free. Free to be exactly who you are. That person loves you, no matter what, is there for you, but also believes in you and your capacity to change, to be an even better person. They’re the biggest fan of the you that is and the you that could be. You know?”
Eva wondered about being loved for exactly who you were. She wondered if her cousin felt that for the man she was about to marry, if she felt like he made her better, or if she was suffocated by the whole circus too. “I think so.”
“That person will be out there somewhere. You just have to find them.” Bee smiled at her and flipped her magazine open again. “Well, this retrospective on Burberry isn’t going to read itself.”
Eva’s thoughts drifted for a moment longer, then she wiggled to find a new comfortable position. They read for a while until her leg started to fall asleep.
Bee saw her squirming and stood up to stretch. “Yeah, I need to move again. Shall we wander down and check out the hot airport action in concourse D?”
Eva dug in her bag for a scrap of paper to mark her page and slid Circe into its depths with great care.
They hadn’t gone far when the moving sidewalks came into view.
Bee bolted without any warning. “I’ll race you!” she cried, running towards the entrance. Except she passed it and took off down the sidewalk that was actually rolling towards them.
Eva chased after her. “Bee, that’s the wrong way!”
“That’s the challenge!” Bee called back, laughing as she wove through the disgruntled travellers.
“Wait!” Eva squeaked, following and apologizing as she went.
Bee was fast, long hair rippling behind her. “I win!” she cried when she made it onto stationary ground at the other end.
Eva was right on her heels, and they fell against each other, short of breath and giggling.
“You got a head start!” Eva protested.
Bee turned and raised an eyebrow at the next set of moving sidewalks.
Eva took off, Bee right on her heels. Eva eked out the victory, despite the grumbles from a man in a navy suit.
“You did it!” Bee cried, throwing her arms around Eva in a celebratory hug.
Goosebumps swept over Eva as she caught a whiff of Bee’s hair — vanilla and jasmine. “I might have elbowed that dude though.”
Bee waved a hand. “He’ll get over it. He’s a white guy in a suit, he can handle one tiny elbow.”
Once they reached concourse D, Eva caught a glimpse of the time on a departures screen. Six o’clock already. Boarding was at seven fifteen. So soon.
“Are you hungry?” Bee asked, then her eyes lit up when she saw a cooler in the Hudson News store. “Let’s get ice cream!”
Eva raised a hand to shade her eyes from the syrupy golden rays of the low-angled sun beaming through the concourse. “What about dinner?”
“Ice cream can be dinner.” Bee towed Eva into the store then abruptly stopped at the book display. A whole wall of colour and faces, bold titles, soft pastels. Romantic, sad, serious, uplifting.
They stood, staring. Eva took a deep breath, the smell of paper and dreams.
“Your books will be here one day,” Bee murmured. She nodded once, and then they continued on to the ice cream cooler.
Eva chose a drumstick and Bee an ice cream sandwich, then she grabbed another armful of shiny snack bags off the wall. “Airport charcuterie,” she explained to Eva.
They found three empty seats in a row and laid out their picnic on the seat between them. Corn chips, beef jerky, dried apricots, chocolate-covered almonds, and a few single-serving cheese packs.
“Bon appétit,” Bee said with a flourish.They ate their ice cream first, then crunched through most of the rest of the food. Eva tried to ignore the clock, but she noticed Bee glancing at it more and more often as seven fifteen approached.
“Can I have your phone?” Bee said suddenly, brushing her fingers off on her jeans.
“Yeah.” Eva unlocked it and handed it over.
Bee added herself to the contacts then hopped up and plopped herself on Eva’s lap. “Smile,” she said, holding the camera out to capture their grins. Eva slid an arm around Bee’s waist and smiled, even though her eyes stung. Bee assigned the selfie to her contact and gave the phone back to Eva.
A lump formed in Eva’s throat as she took it. Was this something she could have? Or was it only a number, locked away in her phone, that would never be anything else? The sun haloed behind Bee’s head, her features soft and achingly delicate. Eva desperately wished she could freeze this moment. Freeze the sun and its golden light. Stop time. Keep it just like this.
Then they heard it. “This is the pre-boarding announcement for Air Canada flight 132 for Toronto. Could any passengers requiring extra assistance please make their way to gate C57.”
Their eyes met.
“Here.” Bee collected the remaining food and stuffed the packages back into the shopping bag. “You take these. You have a long flight.”
Their fingers touched when Eva took the bag. “Thank you,” she said, forcing out the words.
It was a rush to get back to concourse C. They took the moving sidewalks the right way this time. When they got to Eva’s gate and its flashing ‘Now Boarding’ sign, they stopped, two boulders, invisible and immovable in the river of people around them.
Stop. The word filled Eva’s chest, pressed against her rib cage. Stop, she told the sun. Just . . . wait.
Their fingers threaded together. Bee tilted her head, resting it on Eva’s shoulder.
Time finally stood still for them in that moment, the fiery orb pausing its descent, flirting with the edge of the rolling landscape instead of plunging below.
Eva exhaled, then the voice, muffled and distant: “This is the final boarding call for Air Canada flight 132 for Toronto. Please make your way to gate C57 for boarding immediately.”
“I have to go,” Eva said, throat dry.
“I know.” Bee looked up at Eva and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’ll text me.”
It wasn’t a question, but Eva answered it anyway. “Yes.”
Eva squeezed Bee’s hand. Bee squeezed back.
Eva let go.
She stepped onto the jetway just as the sun’s last rays winked out behind the low hills.
Beeper Peddle is a writer and healer living on the East Coast. She lives with her partner and their beloved soul puppy. Beeper writes about sorrows, lies, and deep loves. When you read her work, you will dip down into her heart and end up in all manner of body parts. Should you find yourself reflected in these words, it is merely coincidence; however, it does not surprise her you share the same heart. Find her at bethpeddle.com and @beeperpeddle on Twitter and Instagram
Jennifer Moffatt (she/her) believes that there are so many more stories to tell than the ones that have traditionally been lined up on bookstore shelves. Her short stories have appeared in several anthologies and literary magazines, and her first novel A HARD SELL debuted in March from Pride Publishing. A sequel follows in November, as well as three more books from St. Martin’s Romance. She lives with her family in BC, Canada.
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