TITLE: AINâT IT FUNNY CHARACTERS: LORI BENNET & CHARLIE VAUGHAN STATUS: COMPLETE
Lori Bennet
Lori was running late, she had been all morning. Her alarm had failed to go off, meaning her ringing phone awoke her with a fright - the reception of the hotel calling to notify her that her prebooked shuttle to the airport would be setting off in five minutes time. Scrambling out of bed, she had raced back and forth across the room, silently cursing herself for not packing the evening before as she collected her belongings and shoved them into her tiny suitcase. With seconds to spare, she had found herself in the lobby, wearing the t-shirt and sweats combo she had slept in, staring at the bus that was to whisk her away back to reality. Or _should _have if it wasnât for the horrific queue of guests at reception waiting to be checked out. Instead, she had watched the bus drive off without her as she shuffled closer to the front of the checkout line that was moving fairly quickly in relation to its size. As soon as Lori made it to the over to the desk, she handed back her key card, asking the man who was serving her to ring a taxi, ignoring the fact that she recognised his voice from her wake up call. With the confirmation that a taxi was on its way, she bolted it into the ladies room, desperate to change into clothing a little less funky. One relatively uncreased shirt and a pair of jeans later, she found herself in the back of a taxi, heading away from the beach and towards the airport.
Had her morning gone as planned, Lori would have had plenty of time to go through airport security and relax in the lounge before finding her flights gate. Instead, she found herself at the back of another long line, staring at her phone to check the time every few minutes, a movement that increases her heart rate the closer it gets to her flight time. This trip had been the first time she had ever traveled alone and the thought of missing her flight, being stranded with no one to rely on, frightened the hell out of her, even if her flight was only up the coast to Seattle. SeattleâTacoma International Airport was the best mix between low cost and distance from her home she could find. A handy bargain as she was now unsure as to whether she had enough cash saved to buy another ticket with the plans she had made. Especially with her extravagant purchases - one souvenir sticking out of her bag and the other tucked under her arm. She hadnât been able to stop herself when sheâd seen the pricey items sitting in the window of a small trinket shop, but now she was beginning to question her purchases the closer she got to the check in desk. Having opted out of buying luggage space on the plane in favour of the airlines carry on allowance, Lori silently hoped theyâd let her rookie mistake slide. That, or allow her store the items with the rest of the cargo.
However, Lady Luck was not on the brunetteâs side, the travel rep eyeing her luggage even before it weighed in. âIâm sorry ma'am, but your items need to be locked safely if your bag or you cannot take them through. Unfortunately we donât have room for any extra items or bags on board today.â Pulling her bag off the weighing scales, Lori took a minute to stare at her luggage, hoping a solution would present itself. Perhaps she should have moved out of the way to allow other passengers to check in for their own flights, but there was more of a chance that Lori would leave her belongings than there was of her moving back into the never ending queue, especially when she had just got out of it. Nerves building up in her system, the young woman drops to her knees, trying to cram her belongs into the tiny case to no avail. âCâmon.â She grumbles to her things, feeling more and more flustered as she can feel the stares of the waiting travelers on her back. âJust fit!â
Charlie Vaughan
Three years of a relationship with Angelina Morhs was not easy. Anyone who knew Charlie knew this, and could attest to the woman that Angelina was. With a tough exterior, and a tougher interior, Angelina Morhs was not quite a woman who fell to the sweet words and gentle touches of a man. But, somehow, for Charlie Vaughan, she had. Somehow, somewhere during the course of their friendship, she had fallen for Charlie, too â a mystery on its own, one that neither she nor he could answer. Every time Charlie was asked, heâd just smile. Heâd just smile, hold onto his girlfriendâs hand, and said that destiny had its way of bringing two people together. Even when he did not believe in destiny. And, every time, Angelina would smile back, shake her head, and say that no such thing existed.
Sheâd say she chose him, wholeheartedly and with full consent. She chose him, she chose him, she chose him.
For three years, Charlie held onto this. Despite their fights, the difficulties they faced, and the distance between them, he found a way to come to terms with Angelina choosing him. In the same breath, he had come to terms with choosing Angelina, and committing to her in the way a proper man should. God, he was not young anymore! He had not time for false promises like he did when he was younger, nor did he have time to fool around with someoneâs heart like he used to. When he said he chose her, Charlie meant he chose her. Through sickness or health, for richer or for poorer, in life and in death.
Three months ago, Charlie Vaughan had decided he wanted to take the next step. Marriage was no easy thing, he knew; and he was marrying Angelina, no less. But, when he looked at his life, at his future, at fifty years from now, he imagined himself with her â and that was worth it. Three years was a long time to know it was worth it, so with her parentsâ permission, his own to back him up, her friends to support him, and his own to keep him going, Charlie devised a plan.
The plan was thus: he would fly over to Santa Monica as a surprise, and sheâd run into his arms. There would be a nice dinner ready for just the two of them, in a place that resembled the likes of their first date. And there, when laughter was high, and the moon was low; with no hesitation, he would get down on one knee and he would propose. Charlie had come to the conclusion that he might cry. He had even come to the possibility that she might. But, through all these, he knew in his heart that neither one of them would hesitate.
So, no. _No, _having Angelina push him away when he arrived at her front door wasnât a part of any of it. Watching her pace across the room, and seeing her face fill with worry at the sight of him _wasnât_supposed to be a part of it either. His mind had screamed in the moments that had passed between them right there and then, where half of him wanted an explanation and the other wanted it all to stop. It was the kind of fight within his head wherein if one won, he would rather have preferred the other. It was the kind of fight within his head that shouldnât have been there in the first place, because she was supposed to greet him another way.
Ultimately, however, the explanation came. Another man, she had said â after that, Charlie stopped listening.
His blood boiled, his tears fell, and everything after that just went dull. He couldnât even ask how long sheâd been cheating on him! He couldnât open his mouth, couldnât move, couldnât look at her in the eyes. There he had been, so foolish to think that he could spend the rest of his life with the woman he loved â when she, oh god, had been lying to him for god knew how long!
The plan hadnât been to get on an early flight, nor was it to come home single. And yet, here Charlie was anyway, in the airport, standing with his head hung low and the events of what took place just hours ago still on his mind. He swore to himself he wouldnât cry, promised himself that the rest of the tears that were to come from him were to happen once he had cleaned his home of every bit of Angelinaâs belongings. So, as he stood there, he held back, held in, held together.
Enough that he noticed how long the line was taking. It wasnât difficult to, what with all the cursing and the whispering of those beside him.
As soon as he heard what they were talking about, Charlie stepped away from the line to see it all in action: a woman trying to fit souvenir items into her already-full bag. Even just by looking at the situation, and judging by this, he could already tell that there was no way the items were going to fit. There was no way they were going to, and Charlie, knowing this, stepped forward with an annoyed sigh to make his way to the front of the line.
All the wounds were still raw, and to speak to another person now knowing he was single again was like putting a finger into all of the wounds made, but Charlie knew he had to do this to get the line moving. âUh, miss,â he said in that low voice of his, quiet, âyou can put your things in my bag. I got room.â
Lori Bennet
Still fighting with her luggage, shirts and bikini bottoms spilled out onto the floor around her as her cheeks turned red from panic and frustration. She was determined that the fragile items would fit; that they would miraculously bend at her will as there was no other option she was willing to settle for. She was getting on that plane with _all _of her belongings, and that was that. It _had _crossed her mind that the expensive, too tall to function, vase she had bought her mother would easily fit in her suitcase if it was smashed over her knee, but in the end, the idea had been thrown out of the window along with taking a later, more vacant flight. Presenting something she knew to be broken kind of defeated the purpose of the gift in Loriâs eyes. Sure, it may be the thought that counted, but no one wanted to be on the receiving end of a million broken shards of glass. Not even her mother.
Another reason she refused to give in was because giving up had always left Lori with a bitter taste in her mouth. She knew the memory of defeat at the end of her time in the sun would sour the whole trip, even though the past few days had been some of the best in her entire life. When she looked back on her week away, she wanted to remember the sea breeze in her hair, the lights that stretched along the pier in the dark. Under no circumstances did she want the crescendo of breaking glass branded into her memory. Besides, she didnât think the broken pieces would go down all too well with airport security when her items were scanned for explosives and other dangerous items.
All other options exhausted, she had just about reached her breaking point when she heard the voice behind her. Whipping her head around to look over her shoulder at the owner of the voice with a glare, she prepared herself for the argument that would undoubtedly boil up inside of her if he suggested moving. Lori wasnât usually the type of girl to seek confrontation, but seeing as her day had gradually gone from bad to worse, she was willing to make an acceptation if the situation called for it. She was already fighting the urge to cry, trying to hold herself together in front of the large crowd, why not an obnoxious traveler too?
But all scathing words were lost on her tongue and her features softened as her eyes finally met his. They were just so blue, and didnât hold the anger she was expecting. In fact, his whole demeanor took her by surprise. So much so that she had completely missed the rest of his offer. âWhat?â She asked dumbly, her mind only catching up with the situation when her voice broke the trance she was in.
_Give him the items that cost more than the ticket for this flight? I donât_think so.
Instantly recoiling at the idea, she unintentionally pulled a face at him, the corners of her mouth turning down as her eyebrows furrowed together. It sounded liked a crazy idea to her. Why would she entrust her belongings to some stranger? Albeit a kind stranger, he was still a one all the same, and that was why she found it difficult to make herself trust the man in front of her. No matter how pretty he was. (And he was _very _handsome.) For years her mother had told her never to trust a pretty face. Not without good reason, at least. But her mother had also never offered any advice about the particular situation Lori found herself facing, leaving her to make up some rules and her mind.
Yet, she still wavered back and forth on the idea, until a loud, throat clearing cough from the line behind them reminded her just how desperate she was. âYouâll just stick them in your suitcase?â Hope laced her question, unsure as to whether he had changed his mind in the time it had taken her to make up her own. Daring a look behind the man, her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as her eyes met a sea of judgmental and irritated faces. It was only at that moment when she realised just how pig headed she had been, and any offer to get her out of the situation sheâd dug herself into should, and would, be latched onto immediately.
âBecause, in that caseâŚâ Fading out her words, she slowly turned back around to face her suitcase, begrudgingly removing the now poorly wrapped souvenir from its hold. Maybe this would be a lesson regarding baggage dimensions for the next trip she had planned out of her hometown. âIâd be very appreciative of your help.â Anyone could tell her words werenât exactly sincere, still feeling uneasy with allowing him custody of the items. Still, she made the effort of keeping her tone light, a small smile aimed up at him, hoping either would convince him stick to his offer.
Charlie Vaughan
Why help this woman? Why help this stranger? If she was so adamant on trying to fit all her belongings in her bag, then what could Charlie do to help her in the first place? And, if he could help, if he did help, what woman in her right mind would accept such an offer from a stranger? A_white_ woman, no less! And a black stranger like himself. Did he offer help just to go through the racist rejection that every other woman in line would have given him? Did Charlie offer himself just like that to the wolves, to those who thought what they thought and did what they did without consequence because of the color of their skin? Had he not had enough for the whole day? Had he not faced enough rejection? Surely, one was enough. So, why help?
As Charlie stood there, the answer was clear to him. This wasnât any declaration of selflessness, nor was it a way to show kindness. While Charlie was usually kind to strangers, and would have offered help out of selflessness or kindness on any other day, this wasnât any other day. Not every day did someone get rejected by the love of their lives. Not every day did the woman of oneâs dreams come right out and say that theyâd met another man just as one was about to propose. Not every day did Charlie go through all these. So, no. No, today was not a day of selflessness or kindness. No, today, he did not help because he wanted to save the woman from her embarrassment.
Instead, he helped because he wanted to get the line moving. It was too long, too frustrating, and every second on Santa Monica soil reminded Charlie of the truth of what had happened to him. By stepping up and helping this woman, he had inched himself forward to the front of the line. And then, perhaps, once he was through all this, he would forget what had happened. Perhaps, once he was through all the lines and the waiting, he would sit on a plane and forget that he had ever been broken by the woman he loved most. Perhaps, or perhaps not. How could Charlie know if he was just standing there, unmoving?
Later on, Charlie might thank gods he did not believe in, and destiny he did not believe to have for this moment. Later on, he would look back and say that this day was the greatest moment of his life, for it led him to meet the woman he would love for the rest of it. Later on, he would be able to say that some endings are beginnings, and this one was his most favorite. But all these were for later. All these were for when the wound stopped hurting, and when the scars healed. For now, this day was hell, and this woman was bothering him with all her slow talking and unnecessary questions. For now, his heart hurt as much as his mind did, and he just wanted the day over with.
As the woman _sat _there contemplating his offer as though she had any other choice to begin with, Charlie couldnât help but force a smile on his lips. Couldnât she see? Couldnât she understand? It _all _hurt. It hurt and it hurt and it hurt, and Charlie wanted to get a move on with this line so that he could pretend he was getting a move on with his life. That was all he gave, though. No tapping of the foot. No hurtful words from the mouth. As angry and as hurt as Charlie was, he knew the woman didnât deserve any of that. Sure, she had been a little impulsive with her purchases, but she hadnât broken his heart. (And, heâll come to know that she never will. Heâll come to know that she was Lori Bennet, and his heart was safe with her. But this, again, was for later.)
The smile lasted for as long as the woman contemplated, but it seemed as though Charlie was not the only one. It seemed as though everyone had been holding their breaths for her answer, and that everyone gave a sigh of relief when she had. Charlie wasted no time doing that. In fact, he wasted no time at all. As soon as she had accepted his offer to help, he got down on one knee and opened his suitcase filled with clean clothes and neat belongings. All eyes were on him now, but he didnât care. His hands moved at a steady speed as he reached for her bigger purchases, and only when he felt the hesitation radiating from off the womanâs face did he stop what he was doing.
âIâm not gonna steal your stuff,â he pointed out as he put one of the smaller purchases into his suitcase. âI donât need all⌠these.â At this, Charlie scrunched his nose and furrowed his eyebrows together. Why would he need a vase? Why would he need anything that she bought at all? They would all just take up too much space in his house, and would no doubt end up in the trash can in the end. All Charlie wanted to do was get home. So he could cry. So he could mourn. So he could hide away from the heat of the eyes of people and tear his heart out of his chest. So he could step on the dreams heâd carried for so long. So he could stop pretending nothing hurt.
Lori Bennet
She felt the relief wash over the crowd like a wave as soon as she agreed to accept the manâs help. Unfortunately, she didnât feel the same relief they did. It wasnât that Lori didnât trust his word, that he wouldnât steal her belongs. Really, she just wondered what he got out of helping her? Why inconvenience himself for the likes of a ditzy brunette who everyone else was more than happy hope disappeared like a bad dream. Sure, the action seemed innocent enough, but who was to say he wouldnât demand something from her? Something other than her thanks, something she didnât have. Then what would she do? Or maybe she was over reacting. Maybe the most likely scenario was a good man wanting to do a good deed. Too many times had she read stories about good Samaritans, people who stepped in when others were in need of help; and Lori was desperate for it. Even if she wasnât particularly keen with accepting it.
With both expensive trinkets out on the floor, she pushed them over to him, and, unable to stop herself, peeked into his suitcase. Everything was neatly folded, evenly packed, and Lori couldnât help but make comparisons. Comparisons between his bag and hers. Herself and him. Where his belongings were tidy and well organised, her things were thrown in. Nothing had its rightful place, odd and sods flung together and arranged messily, shoved into any crevices that were available. Kind of like Lori in that particular moment - a messy bun sat atop of her head, long pieces of hair escaping in tendrils which wrapped around her neck, and the faint smell of day old sun cream that clung to her skin. Her life was a mess, just like her suitcase, and just like her dirty laundry, it was being exposed to him and the passengers who had not gotten their fill of her embarrassment. But the man looked just as put together as his suitcase, which was slowly being taken over by her belongings.
âThatâll save me from having to tackle you on the other side.â She joked, offering the man a more genuine smile in an attempt to clear the air around them. The image was ridiculous, of course - Lori had to, _at least,_be a head shorter than him and more than a few pounds lighter - but she hoped it was what they needed to start their journey together. After all, he had now signed himself up for her company since he carrying her belongings. A bit of light entertainment had to be the first step in getting them both through the hours that were to follow.
Though as seconds passed, she felt nerves start to flutter in her stomach. She knew his first impression of her had to be terrible. A crazy woman fighting with her luggage would do that, she supposed. Now they were destined to share a flight together, and if Lori was being honest with herself, she had no intention of letting him out of her sight. Not until their feet were safely on Seattle soil and she had her trinkets back. But that didnât mean she wanted him to regret his decision to help her. She didnât want him to abandon her, to leave her to fend for herself once again in the sea of security. A week of solitude had allowed her to gather her thoughts, to think through the past few months of her life. It had allowed her time to mourn her brotherâs death, to try shake off her survivorâs guilt, but it had ultimately left her desperate for some form of company. In need of being around another human, even if it was some stranger who had took pity on her at the airport. The man in front of her was the only option she saw to achieve that.
âTheyâre antiques, or so they said. Now Iâm thinking that was to bump up the asking price.â Attempting to stop herself from rambling about her expensive shopping habits, she sank her teeth into her bottom lip, eyes still fixated on him though they held no malice, no suspicion. She was perhaps just a little too interested in him, in why heâd stopped to help her. Instead of voicing her queries, she turned her focus back to her suitcase, finally able to zip the damn thing close. A sigh of relief spilt over her lips as she stood to her feet, clapping her hands against her jeans as if to shake off any dirt from the floor. With a faux smile on her face, she transferred her suitcase from the floor onto the weighing scales. As the case weighed in on the limit, a smug look crossed her features as the attendant had no choice but to check her in for the flight.
Thank goodness for the kindness of strangers!
Hand luggage checked in and boarding card in her hand, optimism soon washed over her. Lori felt positive for the first time that day. Positive that they would make their flight in plenty of time. If she got out of his way, that was. Smoothing her shirt down with one hand, she moved to the side of the desk, crossing the man as she did. Unable to stop herself, she reached out her free hand, quickly squeezing his forearm to catch his attention. âThank you.â She said in a hushed tone, believing the words to be more sincere as they were for his ears only. She could have spoken them louder, shooting glares to the other passengers bound to be on their flight, but they were no concern of hers. He was, and however their flight panned out, right now she was grateful for his help.
Charlie Vaughan
All Charlie intended was to help the woman. The selfishness in him bloated out its horns and never forgot the mention in his head that he had helped the woman for himself. If she thought he was here for small talk or for friendship, then she was wrong. If she thought he was here for something else other than these, then she was foolish. This was _all_for Charlie. This was all for him, his mind, his body. If he helped her, then sheâd move along faster; if she moved along faster, everything else would fall into place. Everything not meaning everything, of course â but it was easier to blame a stranger, a random woman struggling with her luggage in the airport, than to face the actual truth and realize who there really was to blame. At the moment, Charlie couldnât handle that. At the moment, he couldnât look into what had happened to him and blame Angelina; the love he had for her was so strong that it was impossible to. Neither could he blame himself, though; he knew heâd done his best in keeping their relationship alive.
As he put the womanâs trinkets into his bag, all Charlie had in mind, then, was to get moving. Get moving, get fast, get lost, get away. From the tired and impatient faces behind them in line, he could tell that this was what the others thought, too. However, it was obviously not what ran through the womanâs mind, as she attempted for small talk and a joke in the midst of Charlie fixing the mess sheâd made of herself. Charlie being Charlie, however, did nothing to indicate that he noticed her. Charlie being Charlie did as he did, with his head focused and his mind sharp, until the job was done. With _both _their bags closed and ready, he stood up again, and allowed the woman heâd helped to go through the line first before he did the necessary steps himself.
And that was that. That was that â or, at least, it was supposed to be that. For the meantime, Charlie didnât think heâd have anything else to do with the woman. When they were on Seattle ground, he knew he had to look for her and make sure that she had her belongings back. But that was for much, _much _later â not now. One would think that with the nonchalant look on his face hinting at just a tiny bit of annoyance, the woman would understand.
She didnât, though. Instead, she reached for his arm and gave it a light squeeze, thus causing Charlie to look at her direction with a frown. Who was this woman who thought she could touch him? Who was this woman that she thought she could reach out for him like this? Though Charlie didnât say anything of this sort, it was obvious with the look on his face that he hadnât appreciated the small gesture. But, perhaps, there was a little bit of pity inside of him for the woman, so he went ahead and told her she was welcome, before proceeding to do the proper tasks in order to get through the line.
As soon as he was through, Charlie looked at the woman and said, âIâll catch you Seattle ground. Hereâs my card.â With his free hand, he reached for his wallet in his backpocket, fished for a business card, and then handed it over to her. There. Now, the deed was truly done â and Charlie could get back to doing what he was doing before this woman made a scene out of herself.
Little did he know that once he got to know who this woman truly was, there was no going back.
For now, though, he knew not even her name, so things went back to how they were before their lives had crossed. As Charlie waited for their airplane to board, he sat by himself, talked to no one and looked at nothing in particular. Had this been any other time, he would perhaps have made conversation with his seatmates. Had this been any other time, he might have smiled at the little girl in front of him. But this wasnât, so he didnât â and for the rest of the waiting time, he remained as stoic as possible. The only other movement aside from blinking happened when his flight was announced, and he readied himself as women, parents, and children lined up to enter. Men always went last, but he stood up nonetheless in this short waiting time, until he finally could line up.
Everything was fine â and wouldâve remained fine had he not found a familiar face sitting beside his seat on the plane. Everything wouldâve remained fine had the very same woman he had helped _not _been his designated seatmate on this trip. As it turned out, however, there she was, sitting in the very seat next to his, and all Charlie could bring himself to do was let out a defeated sigh upon the sight of her. All he held onto in that moment was the fact that they were still strangers; he hoped this was enough distance in between them for her to understand that he wasnât about to start telling her about his life. And that he wasnât about to start listening to hers, either.
Lori Bennet
Lori stood there, foolishly, waiting for him. All of the odd looks he had given her, his cold demeanor towards her, had been glossed over. She hadnât focused on any of it. Instead her attention had been draw to their surroundings, even if her eyes stayed on the stranger. His moves had been saved for later, her mind too busy to examine them. Too busy blowing things out of proportion. As she stood there, shifting her weight from one foot to another, she still felt the odd look or two from various travelers on her back. With their stares, it was almost as if they were sending their thoughts along with them, which she heard loud and clear as she waited. _So _she _is the reason why Iâve been waiting so long? Has she never traveled before? I can believe she had the audacity to not let someone else by! The youth of today! _Really, she knew it to be her embarrassment that caused her imagination to run wild. She knew everyone had gone back to minding their own business as soon as she was checked in, but that didnât stop her from nervously playing with the ends of her hair until the man reappeared before her.
With her eyebrows furrowed together, confusion obvious on her face, she dumbly took his card and watched him walk away, too lost to chase after him. Maybe she had read the situation wrong, but she couldnât figure out his actions. To her, it simply didnât make sense. Why help her and then walk away, not bothering to carry on with the knight in shining armor act? Why take her things and give her his business card if he was, in fact, planning on keeping the items? Why put himself in such a situation when other travelers had been happy to watch her struggle? None of it made sense, and now she wouldnât get the chance to ask him either. It was to remain a mystery, one that she would no doubt run over again and again on the flight. Perhaps he did regret his offer. Maybe thatâs why he left her behind. It had been too late to go back on his offer, and so he had tried - and succeeded - in leaving her behind so as not to think on the dumb move. But if all of the above was the case, who was he to judge her?
Sure, sheâd made a few mistakes, but who hadnât? She was on a learning curve. On the right side of twenty, she had finally stepped out on her own two feet, and she was proud of that. So in that instance, she decided she didnât need him to make it through the last leg of her journey, that she didnât need his company. Her strong resolve kicked back in and she held her head high, finally moving through to security and then on to the rest of the airport.
Throughout her window shopping and waiting, she found herself thinking back to the man who carried her belongings, much to her surprise. Even as she reminded herself of the way he had brushed her off, she still found his kind eyes and his strong bone structure filling her imagination whenever she allowed. So as her flight number was called, relief flooded her system to finally head north and onto the second leg of her journey - the road trip she had planned from Seattle to wherever the wind took her.
Standing in line to make her way on board, Lori made small talk with the woman behind her. It was obvious in the way the older lady spoke to her that she had missed Loriâs almost break down less than an hour before. Much to her delight though, the small talk took her mind the events of the day, instead allowing her to reminisce on the wonder sights of Santa Monica she had gazed upon. Maybe she would come back, one day, when she had finished with the rest of her travels. A life by the beach seemed ideal to Lori. Way more enjoyable than her life in the small town she and her family lived in.
The lining quickly moving to allow the passengers on board, Lori shuffled down the isles, swooping in on her seat as soon as she saw the numbers. She was a little disappointed that hers was not the window seat, but decided she could live with it. Perhaps her seatmate wouldnât mind her looking across them as much as the passenger had when she originally flew out to Santa Monica. Removing her earphones from her case, she roughly placed her suitcase in the locker above her head before taking her seat, stretching out her legs whilst she had the room to do so.
It was not long, however, before she felt a presence at her side. One that caused her lips to curl up into a smile when she looked at who she was destined to sit besides for the next several hours. âCharles Vaughan, what a small world.â Yes, she had (memorised) read the card he had given her. In her opinion, it had been the wise thing to do, and it gave her an idea as to why he was in Santa Monica, the card stating he was a photographer and all. Standing to her feet in order to allow him to sit, she keeps her smile on her face as she looks at him, unsure whether to find the situation amusing or not. âIâm Lori, by the way. Lori Bennet. You kind of disappeared before I got to mention that.â
Charlie Vaughan
Sometimes, life went a certain way because it was the way life was supposed to go. Sometimes, though people did not like the way things went, life carried on anyway. People could fight, which would make life go in a different direction, which would make life turn the steering wheel, but the truth of the matter was that life went on its original way before people could even bother to disagree with it. Life had a life of its own; it had a mind that knew what was right and wrong, and it followed its heart no matter what its mind said. Not every direction that life took was the right one, see â and sometimes, it was obvious. Sometimes, it was not. Life was funny like that.
At the moment, Charlie Vaughan did not feel as though his life was going in the right direction. Not only did he have the bulk of his relationship to carry, and not only did he have questions that roamed in his mind without answers, but he had to deal with people smiling and talking around him. The sound of his shattered heart was so loud that he couldnât help but wonder how others didnât hear it. _How couldnât they? _How could they go about smiling and laughing and making small conversation when the whole world had fallen apart?How?
It was difficult enough on its own to deal with people smiling and talking around him, but, as he blinked back at the woman that he had helped back inside the airport, the woman he was _seated next to _for the duration of the trip, Charlie realized that it was more difficult to have people smiling at, and talking to him. What was he supposed to do? Smile back? Make conversation? Was he supposed to just pretend his whole life hadnât shattered a few hours ago? Was he supposed to just move on from the fact that his entire planned future was torn to pieces because of another man that had come into the picture? What was he supposed to do? Why couldnât people understand that the world was now in ruins?
And, just like that, Charlie reminded himself that the whole world hadnât crashed and burned. Only his had.
The woman before him had a look on her face filled with hope and excitement for things to come. She had on her face the look that Charlie had had before he landed on Santa Monica grounds. And to see it so clearly on someone else _annoyed _him. It shouldnât have, but it did set a boiling anger in the pit of his stomach, and a pinch in his chest. The annoyance only came because of jealousy, because a part of Charlie had hoped that things wouldâve gone right. But he discarded the jealousy part to the back of his mind, and looked more towards the annoyance that he felt. It showed on his face, too. There was only ever the slightest of frowns, but it was there, nonetheless.
Instead of replying to the woman that had spoken to him, Charlie gave a meager smile and proceeded to take his seat by the window.
For a moment, he kept it at that. He didnât look at her, and hoped that she wouldnât look at him. He didnât speak to her, and hoped that she wouldnât speak to him. Believe it or not, even in Charlieâs sadness and despair, he still believed that people could hold themselves together and understand social cues â which was, if anything, not to disturb those who did not want to be disturbed. With this in mind, Charlie closed his eyes and took deep breaths, hoping that time would pass by more quickly through them. It didnât, of course, but one could hope. Even in the darkest moments of oneâs life, one could hope.
However, whether it was his conscience telling him he had been rude or the truth, Charlie couldnât leave it at just that â not with the woman eyeing him the way she did, and not when she so obviously wanted to butt in the silence that Charlie had made for himself. He couldnât leave it with him closing his eyes and then shutting the world off. Parts of him wanted to, for god knew that the silence was the only thing keeping him from crying at the moment; but Charlie just couldnât. He_couldnât_. He couldnât allow himself to be that rude.
So, he opened his eyes, looked at the woman named Lori beside him, and then began to explain himself. âLook, Iâm not here for conversation,â he said. As soon as he began to speak, he regretted it. After all, he had no need to explain anything, no reason to do such a thing. Yet, here he was. âI just want to close my eyes and get this flight over with. If youâre worried about your things, donât worry. Iââll give them to you ASAP when we land. Yeah. Good.â Charlie looked at the woman with an intense look that said there was no room to argue.
And then, he closed his eyes again just as the pilot began to speak over the microphone and the plane began to depart.
Lori Bennet
Though it wasnât particularly his fault, Lori couldnât help but see the man, Charlie, in a different - albeit not worse - light from the way he had acted earlier. From the way he had originally presented himself to her. Cool, calm and collected, perhaps even friendly. Now, however, she wasnât too sure. It had all come rushing back to her: the looks he had aimed in her direction when first offering his assistance; the way he had ditched her before airport security; and now the way he simply ignored her as he climbed into his seat. The whole thing kind of riled Lori up, even if she had no real reason to feel that way, and so she landed in her chair with a slight huff.
He was no Good Samaritan, no knight in shining armor, but that was fine. Those kind of people only existed in stories, and this was plain, old real life. At least now Lori had an idea as to why he had originally helped her, one that hadnât crossed her mind before. He had come to her aid in order to move on with his own journey. He had seen her as a blockade, one that stopped him getting from A to B, and so he had helped her to speed things along. So he could get back to his life.
If Lori was to be reasonable, she knew she couldnât blame him for that. Perhaps she would have done the same thing if their situations had been reversed. But Lori was not reasonable, and an odd sense of rejection settled over her. She had been expecting him to ask something in return for the help, and now it seemed like she had been the one to expect something all along. Something she had no right to ask for. His assistance was enough. It was unfair to ask him for his company as well, to ask him to share in stories of her time away, or converse in general chitchat so as to pass the time.
So then and there, she made a deal with herself to keep quiet throughout the flight. Even if it was the last thing she wanted. It was the least she could do. However, that promise was made before he opened his mouth to explain himself. âI didnât mean..â The girl had a speciality for speaking before thinking her words through, and so she closed her mouth with an audible click of her teeth, cutting her sentence short. What could she really say to that? He obviously didnât want to hear from her, but she couldnât stop. She felt the need to explain herself, even if it was the last thing that was needed.
âIâm sorry to have inconvenienced you. I just thoughtâŚâ A shrug of her shoulders accompanied her words this time as they drifted off into silence. Lori wasnât sure how to explain the inner workings of her mind without seeming crazy. _I just thought we could get to know each other in this period before we go our separate ways, never to see one another again. _No, it made no sense. If asked, sheâd probably blame it on growing up in such a small town, where every stranger was a likely new friend, even if only for the day. Red crept up her neck and stained her cheeks, her eyes still fixed on his face though she should have long turned from him. âSorry, Iâll leave you to it.â With a nod of her head, she settled deeper into her chair, wondering if the thing would swallow her whole if she wedged herself far enough back.
Of course that wish was too much to ask for as she stayed visible during take off, an iron tight grip on the arms of her seat as the plane soared into the air. No matter how many times she experienced the motion, she was sure sheâd be filled with adrenaline each time, her heart pumping faster with every mile they climbed higher. First, it had been in fear, now it was in pure elation, the feeling of being unbreakable washing over her as she stared over at the window, watching the clouds pass them by. It gave her hope, and helped her feel closer to her brother, something sheâd always long for.
The flight passed without too much incident. Lori was too wrapped up in the music blaring in her ears from her iPod to pay too much attention to the male at her side, though that didnât mean she _wasnât_paying attention, just a _normal _amount. Her looks were fitted in between bouts of gazing out of the window, and turning back to stare at the seat in front of her. The flight wasnât long, though it seemed to stretch out, allowing her mind to play back the events of the day. Really, as much as she was looking forward to starting the next leg of her journey, sheâd be more grateful to simply end this day and start afresh tomorrow. A new day where she hadnât embarrassed herself, or assumed things and generally been a mess.
But first, she had to get through the next hour or so as the plane prepared for landing. She would have to wait until she had bid farewell to the man at her side, belongings in hand, finally able to retreat to the rental car she had thought to pre-book.
Charlie Vaughan
Charles Vaughan had a habit of ignoring what he deemed unimportant. He had a habit of looking to what mattered most, zoning in on these, and throwing off that which did not count into his work. This was what made him such a good photographer, and such a good problem manager. Not only did it give him the eye for what mattered in a picture, but it gave him the eye for what mattered in life. Life was more difficult than taking photos, and Charlie Vaughan had thought, before all these, that heâd had it all under control. He thought heâd had what mattered most to him: Angelina, his job, their future together. Everything else, he would have thrown away to make her happy â because, somehow, he thought that their happiness would be one they shared together.
Obviously, he was wrong. Obviously, he had been wrong. Life proved to him that he did not have it all altogether. Life showed him that he did not have anything under control. Heâd simply looked to what mattered to him, ignoring to look at what mattered to the big picture, and thus ended up in this predicament. No girlfriend. No fiancee. No future with the one he loved most. This left him with a job, and Charlie really should be thankful he still had anything to hold onto at all! But, at the moment, he couldnât be thankful for anything. At the moment, he couldnât be glad. Everything heâd had in the palm of  his hand had now gone away, and there was no way he could bring himself to smile about any of that.
At the moment, though, he deemed the woman beside him unimportant. At the moment, he deemed her words after heâd spoken and said his piece unnecessary. So, while he might have heard them, he hadnât been listening. And there was a difference in that, in and of itself; because now, he knew, as he sat there looking out the window, that he had only ever been hearing Angelina.
Was he such a bad man? Was Charlie Vaughan such a bad man? Had he taken his joy before Angelinaâs? Had he taken his_ own_ joy before _theirs_as a couple? As he looked out the window and watched as the ground became nothing but a tiny speck of dust, he couldnât help but regard everything in a different light. Every little detail came into view, and Charlie saw how possible it was that Angelina could have left him for a different man. Even the thoughts heâd _thought _heâd forgotten came back up, rose from the ashes theyâd been hiding beneath. It hadnât been a habit of his to overthink, but the silence of the ride and the ache in his chest led him to it now.
The worst part, perhaps, was not that Charlie thought all these things. This was normal. Thinking about everything after a break-up was normal. Thinking about oneâs mistakes was normal, too. Thinking and thinking and thinking was normal. The worst part, then, was that the more Charlie thought, the more he blamed himself. How could he have been so horrible to take his happiness before hers? How could he have been so horrible to ignore that Angelina was a person with her own joys, too? Perhaps his mind blew things out of proportion. Perhaps everything was out of control. Perhaps he wasnât even that horrible of a person. But, in that moment, nothing else made sense. Nothing else made sense, save for the ache in his chest â and so, he let it consume him.
For the duration of the flight, Charlie looked to the window, ignoring the rest of the world around him and unaware of the fact that the woman beside him looked to his direction sometimes. It was only when the pilot announced the flightâs landing did he sit back up straight, and once more entered the reality of the moment. The true reality of the moment was that he was going home because his then-girlfriend had broken up with him, but he did not forget this, so he looked to the other parts of reality: that a woman was sitting with him, that her things were in his luggage, that he would have to return them, and that he would have to rent a car to drive himself back home. This was reality, all because his then-girlfriend had broken up with him. This was reality, and he hadnât even booked a damned car for rent because he hadnât known he would come home so soon.
First things first, though. He had to go through the process of unboarding the plane and everything that came after.
It was only when he was through with everything and waiting for his luggage that he once more searched for the woman he had helped, the woman who had sat beside him for the trip. Charlie Vaughan sighed no relief yet. He breathed no gratitude. Not just yet. For as long as he was still in this airport, for as long as he wasnât at home, he swore he would hold it all in. All it took was just a little bit more, though. Just a little bit more. Once heâd rented the car later on, heâd be able to drive himself home. And then, cry. And then, mourn.
Charlie Vaughan was certain he had never looked to anything so much.
Lori Bennet
The reason Lori had decided against checking in any bags, instead preferring to use the carry on allowance, was not only because of the cost saving nature of the choice. Sure, it was a couple of dollars cheaper to forgo dumping her belongings into the cargo holder, and though Lori was on a tight budget, she was sure she could have spared some cash for the convenience of waving goodbye to her luggage for a couple of hours. But in her mind, it was far simpler to take her items on board, placing them in the overhead lockers. If it wasnât for Charles Vaughan (or moreso her useless packing skills), she would have been able to waltz straight off the aeroplane, straight through security and customs, and head straight to the rent-a-car desk, starting the next stage of her adventure.
Instead, she would have to wait for Charlieâs belongings to circle the luggage carousel so he could hand back her items. The two had split up, once again, when the plane landed. Though this time, it was Loriâs choice. He had made it perfectly clear he wasnât interested in niceties, in making friends, and so she had accepted that and made peace with the idea of finding him later on in the airport. If he took off without handing back her souvenirs, she had his number to call, and she wouldnât stop ringing and leaving messages until she had her stuff back. Lori was persistent that way.
Having assumed she would have time to kill before she and Charlie went their separate ways once and for all, Lori headed towards the restrooms to freshen up. For some reason, the thought of saying goodbye to the stranger saddened her a little, not that she could explain why. Their short conversations hadnât exactly been pleasant and she knew nothing about him. Yet she felt a pull to him, deep in her soul. Lori could only blame the strange feelings on being tired as she had barely slept the night before, and after changing into a jumper - already able to feel the chillier climate of Seattle compared to Santa Monica - she splashed her face with cold water, hoping it would stop her mind from thinking such crazy thoughts.
Staring long and hard at herself in the mirror for a few more moments, Lori finally collected herself enough in order to feel able to carry on with her journey. She knew it wouldnât be long until she could wrap herself up in bed, albeit a cheap, bare thread motel one, but a bed none the less. So with a few deep breaths, a small smile found its way onto her features and she was ready to face the stranger one last time. All she had to of was follow the air of negativity and disinterest and she had no doubt it would lead to him. Okay, _maybe _she was being a tad harsh, but the idea certainly helped the smile on her face feel more genuine as she laughed to herself.
If there was one thing Lori had learnt from this trip, it was that she was comfortable her own company. Sure, she would have preferred someone to see the sights with, to gush over every little detail and have mindless conversations with, but she could live with only herself as her companion. She hadnât driven herself mad, instead she had been quite content with herself, her journey so far, and in many aspects this was just the beginning. Lori had a list of sights to see that needed crossing off, some of which she would hit on the road. Most required another trip, but she wasnât against that either. After today, she had given up caring what others thought of her. They may think she was dumb and too young or naive, maybe a little reckless, but her main concern was herself. Screw everyone else!
Rolling her shoulders back as she caught sight of the man who stood at least a head above most of their fellow passengers, she strolled across the airport until she came to a stop by his side. âHey.â She greeted simply, looking up at him with a soft gaze. Damn, he really was handsome._ And probably attached, and definitely not interested, _she thought to herself. It turned out the cold water had had no effect on her thoughts. Though it did help bring forward an idea, one that she should have thought of _long _ago. âDid you want anything for your trouble?â She finally thought to ask, biting the inside of cheek as she did so.âIâm pretty sure I have some spare cash to go towards your ticket, for helping me out. As thanks.â
Charlie Vaughan
There was a dull moment of waiting, a dull moment of nothing, as Charlie waited for his luggage. After that, there was a dull moment of waiting, a dull moment of nothing, as Charlie waited for the woman to reappear beside him. Somehow, he knew. He knew that the woman would be back, that he neednât search for her because she would search for him. It was her belongings with him, after all; if she didnât search for him, sheâd risk giving him the belongings she so greatly treasured. Charlie wanted nothing to do with them, of course. He wanted nothing to do with the trinkets sheâd brought on the flight, and even thought it rather silly she would go to such extents to take part in the great deal that was capitalism, but, of course, there was nothing he could do about that. Her trinkets were her life â not his. At least she had that going for her.
Charlie Vaughanâs life currently held nothing. Before Santa Monica, there was the future in store and a life ahead of him. Before Santa Monica, there was Angelina Mohrs and a love Charlie thought she held dear. And now, there was nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Now, his life had amounted to waiting for a woman he did not know because he had trinkets that did not belong to him and belongings he did not care about. And then, later, when he was done with this, he would try not to cry on the drive home. He would break down when he was home, and he would stay in bed for two weeks straight, standing only to go to the bathroom and to drink water. This was life now. This was the life heâd made for himself. (Charlie Vaughan was at that stage wherein he believed everything was his fault, and so, for the moment, the blame would go to him.)
As he stood there, waiting and anticipating the life that awaited him once he was out of the airport, Charlie found himself regretting. The very shallow level of this regret was the regret of helping the woman. He thought to himslf that if he hadnât stepped in, then he wouldnât have to wait here. If he hadnât stepped in, then someone else wouldâve, and they wouldâve been the one waiting not him. But beyond this was something deeper. Beyond this was regret that transcended the moment he was in. The regret went so deep so as to target the long distance relationship heâd settled for with Angelina, for Charlie thought that if theyâd been closer, then the chances of her cheating wouldâve been lesser. And then, it went deeper to regret to target the day heâd met Angelina, but he knew that this was an overreaction for the last three years were the best three years of his life, whether he liked it or not.
The thoughts wouldâve kept roaming in his head had the woman not arrived beside him.
The sound of her voice â the irritating, grating sound of it â snapped Charlie out of his thoughts, and he turned to look at her with a frown on his features. Nothing was her fault, Charlie knew. She hadnât done anything to deserve a frown, or to even warrant a cold shoulder, but she was the only one around, and Charlie needed to express emotion. (And this â this coldness, this emptiness was expressing emotion.) The question that was directed at him only sought to deepen the frown on his features, though Charlie looked away from the woman before he could direct any more anger at her. He was angry, and yes, he was annoyed, but he wasnât heartless. Not totally. Not really, despite what he told himself at the moment.
When he had managed himself, controlled his frown, he looked back at the woman and shook his head. âNo. Donât need anything, thanks.â The words were simple, straight to the point. The last thing Charlie needed was to make conversation when all he wanted to do was go home and_ache_. âTake care of yourself, and sorry for  all theââ Even as he said the apology, Charlie was already kneeling before his luggage to take what belonged to her and hand it back. And, naturally, he didnât finish the apology that left his lips. Instead, he stood up with what belonged to her, and placed them in her hands before she could tell him to wait. âThere you go,â he said. âNo harm done to them. Hope you have a safe trip from hereon forward.â Charlie knelt back down to zip up his luggage, then stood to make his way separately from the woman in that rushed manner that he did â which, really, made it look more like he was escaping than simply separating himself from her.
Just as he had taken two steps, however, Charlie turned to look back at the woman and said, âHey. Donât⌠call me.â
Such was not the best way to end a meeting, and such was not the best way to part with another, but Charlie was Charlie, and, at the moment, he was hurting.
END.
