Cruising Altitude - NYC Midnight 2017 Short Story Challenge

Here is my first round story for the NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge. We were divided into heats and given a genre, a character and a subject. Then we had a week to write no more than 2500 words. Here is my story with the prompts, Romantic-Comedy, a childhood crush and a blood test.

Cruising Altitude

The seatbelt sign illuminated as Matt drained the remainder of his bloody mary; which at this point was mostly vodka, settled at the bottom of the cheap, airline cup. The drink was meant to settle his nerves, but his mind was racing even more now than when Megan first called asking if he could come visit for a few days.

Megan calling was unusual. Anything other than a group text was out of the ordinary – although very much welcomed. She hadn’t wanted the group included this time, however, just Matt, and Matt was happy to comply. After the initial call three days ago, they hadn’t talked again. He had texted the details of his flight and she responded that she would meet him at the airport, leaving him clueless and curious as to why she needed the last minute visit.

Their history together was nearly as old as they were. Growing up it was rare that you saw Matt or Megan without Greg, Brian and Caitlyn. They were as close as siblings, and while distance kept them from meeting daily, it hadn’t weakened their bond. Greg and Brian were twins, and Greg and Caitlyn had been married for 3 years. Neither of these intimate unions, though, had made the group bond any less special. Theirs was a posse positively impenetrable by time, distance or the sometimes-burdensome realities of adulthood. Only Brian and Matt still lived in their hometown outside of Chicago. Greg and Caitlyn had moved to Charlotte and Megan lived in Latrobe, Pennsylvania where she was finishing her doctorate while working as a bartender.

Matt was so consumed by his thoughts he hadn’t realized the plane was touching down until they hit the runway. In his surprise he let out a little, but loud, grunt, causing the miserable looking 60-something cat lady next to him to shoot him a dirty look.

“How am I the crazy one? She’s covered in cat fur and smells awful,” he thought. “I wonder what that scent is, eau de kitty litter?”

He chuckled to himself, and again got the death stare from Grandma Feline. He mumbled a half apology and she glanced accusingly at the empty cup in his hand.

“Oh no. I’m not…,” he started to explain, blushing slightly, but she had already pulled out her bag, uninterested.

He grabbed his carry-on from the overhead and exited the plane, proceeding to the baggage claim of the small airport where they had arranged to meet. He instantly spotted a silver Nissan matching the description of Megan’s new ride. Opening the rear passenger door he tossed his overstuffed backpack inside.

“It’s about damn time! Where have you been?” Matt joked as he opened her door, leaning in for a hug.

“What the hell?” yelled the heavy-set man behind the wheel. “You better get your ass away from my car!”

Again flushed and apologizing, Matt grabbed his bag and scurried to a nearby bench. He powered on his phone and immediately a text from Megan popped onto the glowing screen.

“Sorry. Stuck at the bar. Mind grabbing an Uber?”

His heart sank.

The thought of having to wait another 30 minutes was as torturous as a Novocain-free tooth-extraction. Then again, his unrequited love the past 27 years was even more torturous, and he’d survived that. Perhaps unrequited wasn’t the most accurate description. She had been his first kiss, after all, playing Spin-the-Bottle in Caitlyn’s basement. They’d also been each other’s prom date after Matt’s girlfriend dumped him a week before the dance and Megan’s date had come down with chickenpox. While dancing to Lady in Red he had attempted to give her a kiss, which landed on her cheek, leaving him the one in red as his cheeks burned crimson.

He opened the Uber app and requested a ride. Forty minutes later he was walking into the pub. She didn’t see him come in, and for almost a full minute he watched her with no filter. Her chestnut brown hair sat in a messy bun on top of her head, a few pieces dangling in front of her mahogany eyes. She moved methodically behind the bar as though it were a well-rehearsed dance, knowing exactly where to place her feet and smiling to a song only she could hear.

Watching her, Matt thought she must be the most beautiful woman in the world, and whether or not he got the happily-ever-after he wanted, he knew without a doubt that his life was better because he could call her friend.

“Matty!” she screamed when her eyes landed on him.

Megan ran out from behind the bar and threw her arms around his neck.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t at the airport. Let me get you a drink. I should be out of here in fifteen.”

She slipped behind the bar and poured him a beer - the ease of their friendship evident by not even asking what he drank. As she set it down, he couldn’t help but notice the uncharacteristic circles under her eyes.

“You ok? You look tired,” Matt asked.

She shot him a dirty look. “Geez. Thanks!”

“You idiot,” Matt thought to himself.

He sat quietly, watching her as he slowly sipped the cold draft. After a few minutes another woman arrived behind the bar. Megan smiled at Matt, letting him know she was done.

“Let’s get out of here. This is my first weekend off in a while,” Megan explained as they headed for the door.

“It’s only 2:30. What should we do for the rest of the day?” Matt asked.

“Actually, I have an appointment at 3:00. I’ll explain on the way.”

Megan’s red brick townhouse was only a block from the pub. She took Matt’s bag and tossed it in the front door before locking up. Matt, meanwhile, had started down the driveway to admire Megan’s new car.

“Very nice,” he said. “Much nicer than the random one I got into at the airport.”

“You did what!” Megan exclaimed. “Oh, I need details!”

Matt had a reputation of being a klutz. He didn’t try to make people laugh, but his instinctive inelegance outshined his introvert tendencies. He gave her the rundown of his embarrassing blunder, while leaving out the butterflies in his stomach and the disappointment of her text.

“If you weren’t such a stickler for the rules, you would have had your phone on before the plane was even at the gate,” Megan laughed.

“Hey, nobody was complaining about this ‘stickler’ all the times I volunteered to be DD so you guys could drink,” he defended.

“You just didn’t want us to see how terribly you handle your alcohol,” she quipped back.

It was true. Matt was useless after his fifth drink; as demonstrated the night of his 21st birthday when he threw-up in their taxi and passed out in Greg’s apartment entryway - a moment Greg and Brian brought up continually.

Though Megan liked to mock him, she didn’t torment him the way the twin terrors did, and she let it go at that.

“I hate to kill this amazing tease-Matt-vibe we have going, but there’s something I need to talk to you about. It’s why I asked you to come out this weekend,” she confided.

The light turned green and she turned left into a small parking, put the car in park and suddenly began to cry.

“Oh, shit! Megs! Are you ok? What’s going on?” he stammered.

He gently took her face in his hand and turned it towards his own. He softly wiped away her tears and she attempted a half smile.

“I’ll wipe your tears, but you’re on your own with that snot,” he joked, trying to bring back the lighter mood.

“You ass,” she laughed as he handed her a napkin that was on the center console.

“I had to have some tests done last week. I’ve been having some weird symptoms – headaches, tired all the time. They did some blood work and I may need more testing. I made the mistake of turning to Dr. Google to self-diagnose and I have myself all freaked out now,” she trailed off. “I didn’t want to make my parents worry. Not yet, at least. And with Caitlyn and Greg expecting the baby, I didn’t want to add any stress by asking Cait to come.”

“Expecting a what?” Matt exclaimed.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. They were going to tell you next week when they came to Chicago. Surprise!”

Matt was speechless. A lot of information had just been passed and he was trying to process the combination of the immense joy of a baby and the terrifying possibility of Megan being sick.

“Don’t you know Google should only be used to figure out how to correctly spell words like emoluments or to find the cutest kitten videos? Why don’t you let me drive,” he finally offered. “You relax.”

“We’re here, genius,” she responded.

They walked through the dull beige hallways and entered a plain, non-descript office. Matt couldn’t help but wonder why they didn’t make these offices more aesthetically appealing. Were they afraid hanging a Van Gough poster might forever mar clear, starry nights for the patients?

They had barely sat down when a nurse wearing SpongeBob SquarePants scrubs called her back. “Please have a seat,” said Nurse Nickelodeon. “Dr. Cohen will be right with you.”

“It’s going to be fine. I promise,” Matt assured her.

“How can you be certain?” Megan pressed.

“I wore my lucky underwear. Want to see?”

He stood up and started to undo his belt. Just then the door opened and a short, balding man entered.

“I was going to go over your test results, but I can come back if I’m interrupting,” said Dr. Cohen.

Matt burned a darker shade of red than he’d ever previously mustered.

“Please excuse my friend. He was only showing off his underwear,” Megan offered with a chuckle.

“An exhibitionist, huh? I can give you the name of a great psychiatrist before we go over these results,” Dr. Cohen jested, enjoying a jovial mood uncommon in his office. “But seriously, down to business. I’ve reviewed your tests and the only thing we could find is low iron. I would like you to fill this prescription for a daily supplement.”

“I don’t understand,” Megan managed after several moments of silence. “What about the headaches and when I got so dizzy at work that I almost passed out? Are you sure all I need is an iron supplement?”

“Well, I suggest a stool softener as well. Adding iron may leave you a little constipated.”

“Constipation is ok! We’ll take constipation,” Matt exclaimed, jumping enthusiastically out of his chair, shaking the doctor’s hand.

Matt’s jubilation was contagious, leading Megan and Dr. Cohen both to laugh at his overly fervent reaction to blocked bowels.

“I’d like you to call in a month and let us know how you’re feeling and then follow up with another blood draw in two months. Other than that, you are an extremely healthy 32-year-old,” said Dr. Cohen.

That night Matt and Megan went out to dinner to celebrate. After dinner the weekend flew by - Saturday brunch with some of Megan’s friends from the university, the new Ryan Reynolds’ movie (Megan’s celebrity crush), losing track of the time as they shopped in a used bookstore, falling asleep on the couch side-by-side watching Saturday Night Live.

Every time Matt wanted to tell her how he felt, it seemed wrong. She seemed so vulnerable in light of what had happened, and he was afraid telling her how deep his feelings ran would come across desperate, or inappropriate.

It was noon on Sunday when they pulled up to Arnold Palmer Airport. His backpack was stuffed with his weekend essentials and his new Stephen King book was at his feet.

“I’m glad I was able to be here for you. I’m even happier that everything was ok,” said Matt.

“I’m sorry I made you come all this way for nothing,” she replied. “I feel ridiculously stupid.”

He knew this was his final chance to tell her how he felt. If he didn’t do it now, he wouldn’t have her to himself again for months.

“Megan, I love you,” he blurted out. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember and I can’t stay quiet about it anymore.”

He looked up from his trembling hands to her flawless eyes, where tears had begun to form. He realized the enormity of his mistake. He wanted to turn back time. He wanted to rewind the clock just 20 seconds and take it back.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry,” he repeated. He grabbed the strap of his backpack and booked it for the sliding doors of the airport.

He went through security without looking back. Matt bounded down the stairs to the gate, where they were already boarding. His heart was beating a million times a minute and he could hardly catch his breath.

“Are you ok,” the gate agent asked as he handed her his boarding pass.

“I’m not sure,” he responded. “I may have just ruined the most important friendship I ever had.”

He made his way to an empty seat towards the rear of the plane. He felt shell-shocked. What had he done? He tried to gain his composure as he watched the last few stragglers make their way on board. Suddenly, that same concerned agent walked aboard the plane.

“Matt?” she called out. “Matt Frazier?”

Matt jumped to his feet, his mind suddenly burning with questions. Had Megan sent her for him? Did she want him to stay? Maybe these moments weren’t reserved for the movies. He tripped over his feet as he quickly made his way up the narrow aisle.

“Your friend gave this to security,” she said, handing him his book. “You left it in her car.”

As quickly as his excitement had arisen, disappointment took its place. How could he have been so naïve? He walked back to his seat, fully aware of the eyes watching him, burning a hole in the shroud of shame that cloaked him. How could a weekend so full possibility end with such colossal heartbreak?

He sank into his seat, wishing it would swallow him. The plane pulled away from the gate, and he was vaguely aware of the flight attendant reviewing what to do in case of emergency, but no oxygen mask or flotation devise could save him from the pool of despair he was drowning in. After a failed attempt to sleep away the heartache, he grabbed the book, a welcomed distraction. As he opened it’s cover he saw a note written on the inside flap, Megan’s bubbly handwriting unmistakable.

He read it. He read it again, and then closed the book. A smile spread across his face as the pilot announced cruising altitude, but Matt wasn’t paying attention.

His heart was already soaring a thousand feet above the clouds.