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Lisa shifted her weight between her aching feet, seething quietly.
In front of her, the queue stretched out in a seemingly endless sea of humanity.
Crying babies, whingeing toddlers, and bickering adults surrounded her on all sides, and she could feel the beginnings of a tension headache forming from the unrelenting din.
Directly in front of her, a group of about six lager-soaked lads, not much older than Betsy, were messing around the way young lads do, repeatedly stumbling and bumping into her or her suitcase. She was inching closer to committing multiple acts of ABH with every minute that crawled past.
As the queue crept infinitesimally forward, she thought back to what had led her to this exact moment and place in time, and wondered if her relationship would survive it.
XXXXX
Meanwhile, in a nondescript airport Starbucks, Carla sipped her lukewarm latte and kept a keen watch on the arrivals area. She had been waiting for nearly a full hour by now, guilt and regret eating away at her.
She thought back to the last time she’d seen Lisa, and the betrayed look on her face - her green eyes wide and uncomprehending. She had almost been unable to walk away, but knew she had to. Staying, being there with her, would only have made things worse.
Now she sat and waited, alternating between scrolling on her phone and fiddling nervously with sugar packets.
After what felt like another several eternities, she finally spied a head of golden hair storming towards her, a 10kg cabin bag being dragged violently along behind.
Standing, she downed the rest of her drink and gathered her bits and pieces as Lisa drew near, her face like thunder.
Carla winced, holding out a bottle of water as a poor attempt at a peace offering, and readied herself to deliver a very carefully constructed and much-rehearsed apology.
“Not. Now.” the blonde muttered through gritted teeth before the brunette could even draw breath. Carla snapped her mouth shut and nodded, jumping slightly as Lisa promptly snatched the water from her and took off in the direction of the exit. Carla could only grab her own case and jog after her.
In surprisingly quick order they were in the back of a taxi, Carla calling their destination address through to the driver.
Sitting back, she looked over at Lisa, who was staring determinedly out of the window at the passing scenery - teeth almost audibly grinding, nostrils intermittently flaring. If she were a cartoon, there would be steam whistling from her ears.
Deciding to test the waters, Carla stretched her hand across the back seat and tapped her pinky against Lisa’s, who, after a beat, linked their fingers together. Releasing a shaky breath, she smiled softly. Perhaps all was not lost.
XXXXX
It wasn’t long before they were pulling up in front of the hotel and, once they’d paid the driver and retrieved their bags from the boot, Carla decided to launch Phase One of ‘Operation Damage Control’.
“Why don’t you head in there and grab a drink while I sort the check-in and bags.” She nodded in the direction of the lobby bar. Lisa didn’t need to be asked twice, and Carla watched as she sauntered across the floor and disappeared through the double doors.
Mercifully, the check-in process was quick and painless. In short order, Carla thanked the receptionist, who handed her passport back along with two key cards and a folded leaflet detailing breakfast times, Wi-Fi access, and other amenities. Their bags were whisked away to be left in their suite, leaving Carla free to face the music.
Spotting Lisa at a cosy table in the corner of the busy bar, she slid sheepishly into the chair opposite, placing the room keys and her passport on the table. Lisa glared at the offending article as she pushed a glass of Malbec towards the brunette, who took a long gulp before placing the glass delicately onto a coaster. She fiddled nervously with the stem.
“So…” she started.
“So?” Lisa raised an expectant eyebrow, her lips pursed.
“So, you’re probably wondering…” Carla trailed off as Lisa scoffed incredulously.
“Right. Well… as you know, I don’t talk about my mam much, for obvious reasons.” Lisa’s expression softened as she watched the brunette drop her head self-consciously.
“But yeah, as it happens, Sharon Donovan was born and raised in County Limerick, over in Ireland. She moved over here in her early twenties - swapped a shithole council estate in Moyross for a shithole council estate in Weatherfield.” She took another fortifying gulp of wine before continuing.
“I arrived just over a year later. We actually made it back a few times in the early days - I have very hazy memories of sitting on my granda’s knee, watching spaghetti westerns on their little black-and-white telly.” She smiled softly, just about able to remember little details like the garish pattern of the living room wallpaper and the delicious smell of her nanny’s freshly baked soda bread.
“Once Rob arrived, there wasn’t the money for us all to go back. Then my nanny died, and granda followed shortly after, so there was nothing to go back to. And anyway, by then, mam had fully embraced a life of booze, drugs and unsuitable men.” Here, Carla faltered slightly. Lisa reached across and squeezed her hand gently, receiving a grateful squeeze in return. Gathering herself, Carla ploughed on.
“Anyway, long story short… it was actually Michelle who gave me the idea. We’d booked a cheeky week in Marbella around June 2019? I think it was?” She tilted her head in thought. “Around the time all the Brexit nonsense was really starting to kick in. When we arrived, she disappeared into the ‘EU Passports’ queue with her Irish passport while I was stuck for over an hour and a half in the ‘Non-EU’ section.”
“Sounds familiar,” Lisa commented drily.
“I applied for an Irish passport as soon as we got back,” Carla finished sheepishly, tracing her index finger over the gold harp embossed on the front of the leather cover.
“I didn’t plan on abandoning you today, love, honestly. Only, the plane took so long to taxi and then they took even longer to get the blummin’ doors open. By the time we hit passport control, I was absolutely bursting for a wee. I’m so, SO sorry,” she finished sincerely.
Lisa smiled gently, picking up the wine-coloured book to flip through it. She took a moment to admire the photo which was, of course, ridiculously stunning, before flicking through the endorsement pages.
“I just can’t believe we’ve been together nearly three years, and married nearly one of them, and I’m only finding this out now,” she murmured in vague disbelief.
“This is the first time we’ve travelled abroad together though in’t it? When we visited Chelle last year, I flew over three days before you because you had that case thing,” Carla pointed out. Lisa hummed in acknowledgement as she passed the passport back across the table.
“So… am I forgiven?” Carla tilted her head hopefully and pouting in a way she hoped came across as endearing. The blonde picked up her own glass and leaned back in her chair, sizing her up.
“Well, that all depends,” Lisa replied, taking a long sip of wine and smirking over the rim of the glass.
“Oh yeah? On what?” Carla played along.
“On what you’re going to do to make it up to me.” She finished, looking expectantly at the brunette
Carla huffed a laugh and placed her elbows on the table, leaning towards her wife.
“I can think of at least seven different things right off the top of my head,” she murmured before firing off a saucy wink. Lisa grinned and downed the rest of her wine.
“Oooh, seven is it? Well in that case, Vámonos!” Pushing her chair back she stood, and holding her hand out.
Carla allowed herself to be pulled across the lobby by her eager wife, unable to keep the smug smile off her face.
Phase two of ‘Operation Damage Control’ was very much a go.