Post by David Atkins on Mar 28, 2006 8:33:19 GMT -5
The airport, 11:00 am.
“I love you,” Travis whispered, feeling his throat constrict as he said the words. Heidi drew him close and they clung to each other desperately, both blinking back the tears they refused to cry. Their lips came together and they kissed; it was gentle and it was fierce, communicating things between the two of them that only they could ever really understand. In that moment, shining and perfect, their doubts and worries melted away, and they comforted each other. They prepared each other for the separation that was about to begin. They reminded each other of their love, of their absolute trust in each other, and they made promises to one another that could not be put into words. Then the moment passed.
Still clinging to him, too terrified to let go just then, Heidi buried her face against his shoulder and replied in a whisper no louder than his own had been. “I love you, too.”
He cleared his throat, still fighting back those tears that he would never admit to. Two nights ago, when he’d pushed her into accepting this job, he had not anticipated this moment. It was dreadful, painful. He knew that she needed to do this. She needed it almost as much, if not more than he had needed to rejoin the LOC. Now that the time was near, though, and the woman he loved more than anything on this earth was about to get on a plane and fly away, he wanted desperately to wrap his arms around her and take her back home. She would be gone for weeks, months, filming a movie in some tiny European country that he had never even heard of. It was the first time since the shooting-- and, more importantly, the first time since they’d gotten back together after he’d come out of his coma-- that she would be out of reach. To talk to her, he would have to use a phone. To see her, he would have to look at a picture. To touch her...
“I’ll visit you,” he said suddenly, his voice soft and hoarse. “If that’s okay. I’ll fly out after Turning Point.”
Heidi smiled that special, beautiful smile that had captured his heart to begin with, and said, “I‘d like that, Travis.”
And then, so suddenly, she was gone. On the far side of security, she stopped once to wave at him with a forced smile. Travis did the same, but he did not leave once she was out of sight; instead he wandered around for a bit, waiting. Just in case. He bought himself a drink, chugged it, and tossed it. And finally he sought out an empty chair, one from which he could watch the crowds passing through security, and sat down. He so wished that he could have walked her all the way back to the gate, the terminal, whatever the fuck it was called. It would have been nice to have seen her off properly. It’s not as if they’re actually accomplishing anything, he thought as he watched security. A real pro, somebody who knew his business, could get past them easily enough. In the back of his head an old, familiar voice whispered, I know how I would do it.
A buzz of excitement that he only barely noticed had begun to spread throughout the lobby. Somebody, or somebodies, had recognized him; Damn wrestling fans are everywhere these days. It continued to spread, to build, until finally they had worked up enough nerve to approach him. Some asked for autographs, some for pictures, all of them for a little piece of his time; he turned none of them away. What did he have, besides time? Over and over, Travis scribbled his name. He smiled, gave thumbs-up signs, and once even kissed a baby on the forehead, all for the flickering cameras. It seemed to go on forever, though in the end it had been less than forty people that had approached him. Through it all, his eyes had continually sought on the large clock across the room from where he sat; it’s was the only face he really saw. Twenty minutes after the last of the fans had gone on their way, pleased, and an hour after Heidi’s plane had taken off, Travis King finally stood up and walked out of the airport.
...
The highway, 12:19 pm.
As he drove, Travis could not help but feel distracted; he was lonely, missing her already. Heidi’s smell still lingered inside his car. The silence was oppressive, but he could not bring himself to turn on the radio. He tried, hard, to focus on his driving, but still his attention drifted back again and again to that empty seat beside him. What he felt was akin to the feeling that one has forgotten something and knows that it was important. Travis eyed the passenger seat. If he touched it, he wondered, could his fingers still detect her lingering body heat? He resisted the urge to check, growling at himself to not be stupid, but without success. He placed his hand palm down on the empty seat... and had to jerk it away immediately to grip the wheel, narrowly avoiding a head on collision with a big, red semi. You dumb sonnuva bitch! he swore at himself. Stupid motherfucker! It’s not like she’s dead, he reminded himself. She’s coming back. So chill the fuck out!
He wasn’t hungry when he pulled into the restaurant, but Travis figured that it would be for the best if he got himself off of the road for a while. At least until he got his head on straight. Once inside, he ordered something to eat and a soda. With a body like his, especially since he was getting older, he needed to put something in it to keep it putting along whether he was hungry or not. He both wished that they had alcohol on the menu and was glad that they didn’t. The last thing he needed was something to further impair his ability to function, but all things considered, he wanted a drink. Oh well. He remembered, then, a good friend of his whom claimed to drive better when drunk. He could relate to that; Travis had never done anything while intoxicated wild enough to scare himself while intoxicated. That’s good, right? He grinned to himself.
When finally his food arrived, he ate quickly and methodically, discovering as he began that he was far hungrier than he’d thought he was. Which wasn’t really a surprise as he recalled that this was the first thing he’d eaten all day, but still... it disturbed him how Heidi’s leaving, just temporarily, was throwing him off. There was a time, and it wasn’t all that long ago, when he’d thrived on being alone. Travis cleared his plate in short order and, as he caught himself gazing absently at the empty seat beside him once again, he flagged down his waitress to ask for his ticket.
“Honey, I’m home!” Travis called as he, finally, arrived home. Then he decided that that wasn’t all that funny. He forced himself, with a great deal of effort, to go through all the motions of normalcy once again. He hung up his jacket and kicked off his shoes. He went down the hall, to the bathroom, to take a piss. He wandered into the kitchen thinking about dinner and then, remembering that he’d just eaten, stalked out of the room with a glower on his face. What now? Travis wondered. There wasn’t a movie he could think of that he cared to watch; there wasn’t a game that he dared play. The TV was too fucking expensive for him to be chunking an Xbox controller through it’s screen. What, then? He rejected the idea of going to lay down. He wasn’t ready yet to face that big, empty bed.. Briefly, he considered going out for a while, then dismissed that idea as well. Too pissy, he decided. What would it look like to Heidi if he went to jail before she’d been gone for even half a day? He chuckled at the thought and walked back down the hallway.
...
At home, 9:07 pm.
Around eight and a half hours after getting home, Travis was going stir crazy. Or, as he put it, fucking nuts. Already he had cleaned the house from top to bottom, including his crawlspace in between the first and second floors; he had checked, cleaned, and replaced the ammo in every single one of his hidden firearms; he had worked on his car and was no long sure as to whether or not it would run; he had done the same to his computer, but was certain that it was fucked. To make a long story short, he had done every single thing he could think to do in, and around, his home. That is, of course, excluding the possibility of digging up and checking over each of the eight remote-detonating mines buried around his property. And he had considered it, but had finally rejected that particular activity on the basis that the neighbor’s might see. Finally, in the end, his activities had dwindled down to searching through the movies case for something to watch, going to check his e-mail and the LOC Exposed forum online, and then going back to the movies case again. It was a cycle. It was endless. And Travis fucking hated it.
Then it came to him; the best. Idea. Ever. At that exact moment he was in the middle of his cycle, walking out of the bedroom on his way to look through the movies one more time. When it struck him, his face lit up-- one might have thought, by looking at him, that Heidi had just walked in through the front door-- and he sprang forward, planted on foot on the cushion of his favorite chair, and bounded over the back of it. He slipped, tumbled across the floor, and came up to his knees just in time to snatch the phone off it’s base. Then he dialed the number and waited; it was picked up after two rings.
“Kyle?!” Travis demanded, and paused only for the briefest of moments. Just long enough for a ‘Yes?’ Then he cried out; “I’m BORED!”
“I love you,” Travis whispered, feeling his throat constrict as he said the words. Heidi drew him close and they clung to each other desperately, both blinking back the tears they refused to cry. Their lips came together and they kissed; it was gentle and it was fierce, communicating things between the two of them that only they could ever really understand. In that moment, shining and perfect, their doubts and worries melted away, and they comforted each other. They prepared each other for the separation that was about to begin. They reminded each other of their love, of their absolute trust in each other, and they made promises to one another that could not be put into words. Then the moment passed.
Still clinging to him, too terrified to let go just then, Heidi buried her face against his shoulder and replied in a whisper no louder than his own had been. “I love you, too.”
He cleared his throat, still fighting back those tears that he would never admit to. Two nights ago, when he’d pushed her into accepting this job, he had not anticipated this moment. It was dreadful, painful. He knew that she needed to do this. She needed it almost as much, if not more than he had needed to rejoin the LOC. Now that the time was near, though, and the woman he loved more than anything on this earth was about to get on a plane and fly away, he wanted desperately to wrap his arms around her and take her back home. She would be gone for weeks, months, filming a movie in some tiny European country that he had never even heard of. It was the first time since the shooting-- and, more importantly, the first time since they’d gotten back together after he’d come out of his coma-- that she would be out of reach. To talk to her, he would have to use a phone. To see her, he would have to look at a picture. To touch her...
“I’ll visit you,” he said suddenly, his voice soft and hoarse. “If that’s okay. I’ll fly out after Turning Point.”
Heidi smiled that special, beautiful smile that had captured his heart to begin with, and said, “I‘d like that, Travis.”
And then, so suddenly, she was gone. On the far side of security, she stopped once to wave at him with a forced smile. Travis did the same, but he did not leave once she was out of sight; instead he wandered around for a bit, waiting. Just in case. He bought himself a drink, chugged it, and tossed it. And finally he sought out an empty chair, one from which he could watch the crowds passing through security, and sat down. He so wished that he could have walked her all the way back to the gate, the terminal, whatever the fuck it was called. It would have been nice to have seen her off properly. It’s not as if they’re actually accomplishing anything, he thought as he watched security. A real pro, somebody who knew his business, could get past them easily enough. In the back of his head an old, familiar voice whispered, I know how I would do it.
A buzz of excitement that he only barely noticed had begun to spread throughout the lobby. Somebody, or somebodies, had recognized him; Damn wrestling fans are everywhere these days. It continued to spread, to build, until finally they had worked up enough nerve to approach him. Some asked for autographs, some for pictures, all of them for a little piece of his time; he turned none of them away. What did he have, besides time? Over and over, Travis scribbled his name. He smiled, gave thumbs-up signs, and once even kissed a baby on the forehead, all for the flickering cameras. It seemed to go on forever, though in the end it had been less than forty people that had approached him. Through it all, his eyes had continually sought on the large clock across the room from where he sat; it’s was the only face he really saw. Twenty minutes after the last of the fans had gone on their way, pleased, and an hour after Heidi’s plane had taken off, Travis King finally stood up and walked out of the airport.
...
The highway, 12:19 pm.
As he drove, Travis could not help but feel distracted; he was lonely, missing her already. Heidi’s smell still lingered inside his car. The silence was oppressive, but he could not bring himself to turn on the radio. He tried, hard, to focus on his driving, but still his attention drifted back again and again to that empty seat beside him. What he felt was akin to the feeling that one has forgotten something and knows that it was important. Travis eyed the passenger seat. If he touched it, he wondered, could his fingers still detect her lingering body heat? He resisted the urge to check, growling at himself to not be stupid, but without success. He placed his hand palm down on the empty seat... and had to jerk it away immediately to grip the wheel, narrowly avoiding a head on collision with a big, red semi. You dumb sonnuva bitch! he swore at himself. Stupid motherfucker! It’s not like she’s dead, he reminded himself. She’s coming back. So chill the fuck out!
He wasn’t hungry when he pulled into the restaurant, but Travis figured that it would be for the best if he got himself off of the road for a while. At least until he got his head on straight. Once inside, he ordered something to eat and a soda. With a body like his, especially since he was getting older, he needed to put something in it to keep it putting along whether he was hungry or not. He both wished that they had alcohol on the menu and was glad that they didn’t. The last thing he needed was something to further impair his ability to function, but all things considered, he wanted a drink. Oh well. He remembered, then, a good friend of his whom claimed to drive better when drunk. He could relate to that; Travis had never done anything while intoxicated wild enough to scare himself while intoxicated. That’s good, right? He grinned to himself.
When finally his food arrived, he ate quickly and methodically, discovering as he began that he was far hungrier than he’d thought he was. Which wasn’t really a surprise as he recalled that this was the first thing he’d eaten all day, but still... it disturbed him how Heidi’s leaving, just temporarily, was throwing him off. There was a time, and it wasn’t all that long ago, when he’d thrived on being alone. Travis cleared his plate in short order and, as he caught himself gazing absently at the empty seat beside him once again, he flagged down his waitress to ask for his ticket.
“Honey, I’m home!” Travis called as he, finally, arrived home. Then he decided that that wasn’t all that funny. He forced himself, with a great deal of effort, to go through all the motions of normalcy once again. He hung up his jacket and kicked off his shoes. He went down the hall, to the bathroom, to take a piss. He wandered into the kitchen thinking about dinner and then, remembering that he’d just eaten, stalked out of the room with a glower on his face. What now? Travis wondered. There wasn’t a movie he could think of that he cared to watch; there wasn’t a game that he dared play. The TV was too fucking expensive for him to be chunking an Xbox controller through it’s screen. What, then? He rejected the idea of going to lay down. He wasn’t ready yet to face that big, empty bed.. Briefly, he considered going out for a while, then dismissed that idea as well. Too pissy, he decided. What would it look like to Heidi if he went to jail before she’d been gone for even half a day? He chuckled at the thought and walked back down the hallway.
...
At home, 9:07 pm.
Around eight and a half hours after getting home, Travis was going stir crazy. Or, as he put it, fucking nuts. Already he had cleaned the house from top to bottom, including his crawlspace in between the first and second floors; he had checked, cleaned, and replaced the ammo in every single one of his hidden firearms; he had worked on his car and was no long sure as to whether or not it would run; he had done the same to his computer, but was certain that it was fucked. To make a long story short, he had done every single thing he could think to do in, and around, his home. That is, of course, excluding the possibility of digging up and checking over each of the eight remote-detonating mines buried around his property. And he had considered it, but had finally rejected that particular activity on the basis that the neighbor’s might see. Finally, in the end, his activities had dwindled down to searching through the movies case for something to watch, going to check his e-mail and the LOC Exposed forum online, and then going back to the movies case again. It was a cycle. It was endless. And Travis fucking hated it.
Then it came to him; the best. Idea. Ever. At that exact moment he was in the middle of his cycle, walking out of the bedroom on his way to look through the movies one more time. When it struck him, his face lit up-- one might have thought, by looking at him, that Heidi had just walked in through the front door-- and he sprang forward, planted on foot on the cushion of his favorite chair, and bounded over the back of it. He slipped, tumbled across the floor, and came up to his knees just in time to snatch the phone off it’s base. Then he dialed the number and waited; it was picked up after two rings.
“Kyle?!” Travis demanded, and paused only for the briefest of moments. Just long enough for a ‘Yes?’ Then he cried out; “I’m BORED!”
