#surrendertothesounds

“I’m – I’m so sorry,” Lydia stammers out as she gets back on her feet, struggling slightly because, surprise surprise, high heels don’t have much traction. “Oh, god. I totally didn’t see you there!”

The other woman – a beautiful blonde with piercing blue eyes and a ponytail – is clearly not happy with this predicament. “Shit,” she murmurs, looking down at her blouse and then to Lydia. “It’s – uh, it’s fine,” she replies, though she looks quite uncomfortable.

“Are you okay?” Lydia asks. The thought that she could have burnt the other woman has her horrified, and her eyes remain on her with uncertain desperation. “Christ, I don’t know how that coffee was. I didn’t burn you, did I?”

“No, no,” the blonde replies quickly. “It’s not that hot. Are you all right? You look like you fell pretty hard.”

Lydia takes a look at the watch on  her wrist, “Yeah, I just—” am going to be late for my flight, and I have to go, she wants to say. Wouldn’t that make her kind of an asshole, though, to just run like that?

There’s a restroom nearby. Lydia holds a hand out to the woman, as if to tell her to stay right there. “I’ll get you some paper towels,” she says before hurrying into the ladies’ room. She goes right for the paper towel dispenser and gets as many as she can. An older woman who’s busy washing her hands stops and stares at her rather judgmentally. Lydia gives her a tight-lipped, fake as hell smile before scurrying out. Fortunately, her coffee spill victim is still there, and Lydia returns to her, handing her the towels. “Here, take these.”

“Thanks,” the woman says, dabbing at her shirt with some of the paper towels and managing to soak up some of the coffee. It would more than likely leave a stain — what a shame. It’s a rather nice outfit.

“I hate to just – just leave like this, but I have a flight to catch,” Lydia tells the blonde. “Again, I really am sorry about your shirt.”

“I appreciate it,” says the pretty stranger, wincing slightly. “Uh, thanks for the paper towels.”

Giving the other woman a nod of acknowledgement, Lydia hurries toward her gate. When she finally makes it, she checks the board for flight times only to find that her flight back home has been cancelled. Her face goes pale, eyes widening. She feels faint, her anxiety ramping up to a high level. This is not what she planned, oh no. She’s not happy about that at all.

After speaking to the woman at the desk by her gate, she wanders a while, in a daze from the shock of her flight being cancelled. Once she finds a place to sit, a somewhat familiar voice from beside her catches her attention. It’s a low-pitched, gentle, feminine voice.

“Hey, did you miss your flight?”

When Lydia’s eyes flit to the source, she finds that it’s the woman from before: the pretty blonde, who happens to be sporting a brand new coffee stain on her shirt. Just why this woman would bother talking to her after such a disastrous encounter, Lydia wouldn’t be able to say, but she appreciates the concern in her voice nevertheless.

“Um, no, I didn’t miss it” Lydia murmurs in response, and feeling rather nervous, her clammy hands naturally begin to fidget. The repetitive movement is somewhat calming, though she’s still incredibly on edge. “My flight — it got cancelled, actually.”

“Sorry to hear it,” the woman replies. “Ironically, my own flight got delayed, so, uh, I kind of know how that feels.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Lydia tells her, making scant eye contact when she speaks. She can’t manage much when she’s feeling this overwhelmed. All of her senses are exhausted; even the lights above her are bothering her. Digging into the pocket of her luggage, she takes out her sunglasses and puts them on. They help to hide the stressed-out look in her eyes, which is something that definitely benefits her for this situation. Taking an unsteady breath, she elaborates, “The woman at the counter told me there’s another flight to Houston, but it’s not for seven hours. I have a daughter at home. I hate leaving her for so long.” Delores would take care of her, of course, but Lydia still misses her daughter and dreads that she’ll have to wait seven hours longer to see her. 

The blonde is quiet for a moment before she speaks. “Well, if you’d like someone to talk to while you wait, I’m here,” she says in a voice that’s surprisingly gentle.

Lydia frowns, brows furrowing, feeling so overwhelmed that she could burst into tears at the drop of a hat. Yet, she holds herself together enough to reply, “That’d… yeah, that would be nice. Thank you. I’m Lydia, by the way. What’s your name?”