The Stopover

Artwork by Charlie Robertson

‘What gate is it again?’ Esther asked, dragging her carry-on through the sterile terminal. Something too small to dislodge, but large enough to render the bag useless, was caught behind the wheel. 

That’s what happens when you pay peanuts, Lucy thought. ‘Twenty-six,’ she gritted. It was at least the third time she’d told her. 

Lucy knew travelling brought out the worst in most couples, but that hadn’t made this trip, to visit her parents for the first time since the pandemic, any less painful. They’d spent the last of Esther’s redundancy on the flights and she hadn’t let Lucy forget it. The first leg of their return flight from Heathrow had been delayed, so they’d missed their connecting flight. The stopover in Changi was too short to justify staying in a hotel, but after thirty-two hours awake and another eight-hour flight ahead of them it was more than long enough. 

The lounge was full of bleary-eyed, indistinguishable faces, visible even behind the passenger’s masks. Somehow it didn’t matter if you were coming or going; the sheer fact of being between time and place for so long reduced everyone to matchsticks-in-the-eyes delirium. The only seats left were next to a family with two young children. 

Typical, Lucy thought bitterly. Why the fuck did people travel with little kids? She’d once heard someone describe planes as the public transport of the sky, but at least you could get off a fucking tram. Even in this sprawling terminal, she felt the walls closing in around her. 

As soon as Lucy put her bag down, Esther started making friends with the pigtailed cliché of a girl. Lucy rolled her eyes. They couldn’t go anywhere without Esther becoming the fucking Pied Piper of Parenthood. The harried mother was so desperate for a moment’s relief she’d barely asked Esther to ‘keep them company’ before racing towards the toilets. Of course, Esther didn’t think twice, but Lucy considered it a pathetic indictment on that marriage if asking a perfect stranger to mind her children was preferable ​​to just assuming her husband would. He was lost in his phone and – whether through complete obliviousness or disregard (Lucy didn’t know what was worse) – letting his toddler run rampant. Most passengers seemed to tolerate, if not encourage, the little boy climbing over their luggage and crawling under the seats. 

‘At least someone will sleep well on the flight to Melbourne,’ cooed an elderly lady nearby who had evidently found her signature look fifty years ago. She nudged Lucy conspiratorially. 

Esther smirked. 

Lucy started pulling absent-mindedly at her turtleneck. The sounds around her seemed to take on an underwater quality and she suddenly felt faint. She knew she was supposed to lie down, but she had to get away. ‘I’m, uh, gonna get some gum. Do you want anything?’ 

‘Yeah, actually. Some barbeque chips and a Coke?’ 

So much for that New Year’s resolution. It wasn’t even February yet. 

As Lucy headed towards the nearest 7-Eleven, her thoughts swam. Everyone had championed their relationship from the beginning. Sometimes she wondered whether people overlooked their differences because they didn’t want to seem homophobic or thought having a lesbian couple in their social circle made them cool by association. Either way, it was bullshit. Even Lucy had initially believed they ‘complemented’ one another, but now she feared that was just something incompatible people said. 

Lucy scanned the kaleidoscope of junk. They didn’t have barbeque chips, but there was a garish orange packet with flames on it. Close enough. She grabbed the Coke and some water from the fridge and a pack of Extra at the counter.  

‘That’s $17.99.’ 

‘Keep the change,’ Lucy said handing over $20. What was she going to do with a few Singapore dollars anyway? Esther would have complained about the ‘injustice’ of airport vendors charging whatever they wanted. 

Lucy buttressed herself on an anonymous wall and sculled the water. She took a few deep breaths. She just had to get through a few more months. It would be unfair to do it before Esther found another job. She slipped a piece of gum out of the foil and into her mouth. At least it helped release the pressure in her ears. 

‘Would all passengers travelling to Melbourne on flight SQ237 please start boarding through gate 26.’ 

When Lucy rounded the corner, she saw Esther bending over – crack exposed, flesh spilling out over her studded belt. Everyone had put on a few Covid kilos during lockdown, but Esther refused to buy bigger clothes. She was ‘determined’ to lose the weight, but after the novelty wore off the Peloton had just become an expensive clothes horse. 

Lucy threw the Coke and chips in a bin. 

Other passengers started gathering their belongings. As Lucy approached, she thought it was funny how travellers were divided into two camps: those who got into line straight away like the plane would take off without them and those who actually risked missing their flight by not getting up until the very last minute. And they usually married each other. 

She smiled sadly to herself. 

Esther turned around and called out, ‘Oh​,​ hey Luce – did you hear? They’re boarding now.’ 

‘Yep.’ 

‘Did you get my stuff?’ 

‘They didn’t have any.’ 

‘Dammit. I guess I can get something on the plane, but it’s never complimentary anymore.’ 

Lucy swung her bag over her shoulder and they took their place amongst the snaking throng. Every time they edged forward, Esther’s bag putted along the psychedelic carpet. The beginnings of a migraine pulsed behind Lucy’s eyes. She reached into her bag for her passport and boarding pass. 

‘…what the fuck?!’ she exclaimed, wrenching her sticky hand out. ‘My bag’s all wet!’ 

A steady drip started pooling from the seam onto the floor. 

‘Oh shit.’ Esther looked sheepish. ‘I was playing with Harry and he knocked his juice over. I didn’t realise it spilled onto your bag!’ 

‘Who the fuck is Harry?!’ 

‘The little boy I was watching. We were just mucking around. It was an accident.’ 

Thankfully Lucy’s travel wallet had protected her passport – otherwise she would have been stuck in this fluorescent nightmare. She’d already been in purgatory for too long. ‘I can’t do this anymore!’ she blurted out. 

‘Do what?’ Esther was still playing catch up. 

Fuck fuck fuck. She hadn’t planned on doing this here, now. Somehow, she felt her future closing in as their past receded into the distance. She blinked back hot tears. 

‘...what’s going on?’ Esther probed. The question ballooned down onto the floor between them. It contained years of answers Lucy wasn’t ready to give. 

‘Nothing.’ 

‘Um...excuse me...’ broached an unassuming man behind them. ‘It’s just...the line.’ He gestured apologetically to the gap ahead of them. 

Lucy was suddenly mortified. She hadn’t meant to say anything, and now their private moment had become a spectacle. ‘Sorry,’ she nodded, composing herself. They shuffled forward.  

‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Esther asked. 

‘Don’t worry about it!’ Lucy could hear the breathless overcompensation in her voice. ‘I’m just tired, that’s all.’ 

The old lie all marriages were built on. 

‘It’s just 8 more hours,’ Esther reassured her. ‘The worst part’s already over.’