The Extra Mile

Had it been the right decision to get on this flight?

MEGAN only began to have doubts in the queue for Customs. Until that moment, between leaving her Surrey flat and disembarking at this regional Illinois airport, it had all been a romantic comedy in the making.

Bradley would see her and remember they were perfect for each other. He would call himself an idiot and he’d kiss her.

There would be a snowy walk, a ring and a wedding.

But now Megan was in a grey arrivals lounge, standing in a line of impatient, sweaty people.

An LED display showed five degrees of wind chill outside, and the possibility of failure hit her.

Bradley had broken up with her by text.

It was supposed to be a video call, but he hadn’t turned his camera on.

Then there was something wrong with her speaker, so they both ended up using the chat function, typing messages on-screen.

This isn’tworking for me, Bradley wrote.

Megan was just about to remind him about the camera, but then she read his message again.

This isn’tworking for me. Did he mean his computer, or was he dumping her?

They were destined to be together. He was the One. A Customs woman signalled Megan to step forward.

“Bag in here, please, ma’am,” she said.

Megan’s hand shook as she dropped her bag into the plastic tray.

What if this beautiful, impulsive plan of hers was a terrible mistake?

She had shut her laptop on that dreadful day and told herself that Bradley could not mean this.

She had to sort it out. Megan turned decisive, like Bridget Jones.

She bought a ticket on a plane leaving in five hours from Gatwick, and packed two large suitcases: she might be in the States for ever, if this went to plan.

Her bag rolled out of the X-ray machine.

A few feet away, a cleaner was mopping the floor, and a sharp draught slammed into Megan’s back as the external doors slid open for more arrivals.

The romance of this trip was dissolving and Megan’s heart cramped as a voice in her head asked, “What have you done?”

She blinked back tears and shuffled on to the next stage.

“How long do you plan to be in the country?” a uniformed agent asked.

He was Latino, with dark eyes so large that for a moment Megan was distracted from her fears.

“What?” she asked. “I mean . . . Excuse me?”

“How long do you plan to be in the country?” the man said in a gentler voice.

His colleague held out another plastic tray.

“Remove your shoes, ma’am,” the woman said.

“Matteo, gotta keep it moving.” She tutted.

Her beady eyes, squashed into her face, turned back to Megan “Shoes, ma’am?” As Megan looked at her shoes, tears began to flow.

This was not a romantic comedy. It was her savings spent on a flight to see a man who didn’t want her.

There had been no real hint during their last conversation that he wanted her. She was deluded.

Matteo was looking at her.

Through her tears, she could see he was upset. He looked around him. “Here, come this way,” he said. “Ma’am.”

Standing against a cold marble wall away from the queues, she poured out her tale of woe.

“How ridiculous am I?” she said at the end.

She gulped.

“You must get this all the time.”

“I only started two weeks ago,” he admitted.

The squeaky voice of the other officer rang out over the murmur of people. “Mat-teo! Where you at?” “On a situation, Jaylene,” he called back.

Megan wanted to hug him. The attention he was giving her, just listening, was already easing her panic.

“Am I mad?” she asked. “Was this love?” he asked. “Love does that.”

He sighed and bent his knees a little. He was taller than her, with a cleanshaven face and jaw muscles working as he thought about what to say.

“Where are you going next?” he asked.

“A hotel.”

“And then you’ll go visit the guy?”

“And he’ll be horrified.” “Who knows?”

“Then I go home.”

He was so lovely, like a guardian angel and a caped hero rolled into one.

“If I could take you with me . . .” she blurted out.

He smiled, his enormous brown eyes sparkling.

“Ah. Strictly not allowed,” he said.

There was a silence – nothing but them looking at each other, Megan’s body gradually relaxing.

“I guess there’s a flight you can get back to the UK tomorrow if he says no.”

“I suppose.”

“You’ll come in to the bus station over there.” He waved a hand. “You can’t avoid the bus station – no other way into town.” “Right.”

“That’ll be at seven, more or less,” he added. “I got a shift at eight.”

****

Bradley was horrified when Megan appeared at his door.

He was dating someone else, he said. He was sorry, but didn’t know why she’d come all this way.

Megan hauled her ridiculous luggage back to the airport.

As she shoved it along the aisle of the bus to get off, Matteo appeared on its steps.

“Can I get on a minute, Hank?” he asked the driver.

He came towards Megan, reaching for the first suitcase.

“I’m a member of the public,” he said, “until I clock on.”

He was ahead of her, pulling both cases along now. The pale blue of his uniform peeped out from under a sweater.

“I can ask folks for their phone numbers until eight,” he said shyly.

Their eyes met, traversing the distance between them.

“I’ve got a pen,” Megan replied, smiling. ■