Free The Crossover by E. Clay Page B

and courage. Both parlayed their experiences into successful careers. But once they found out that I wrote a book about Operation Restore Hope things changed. I never intended on treading on their domain, I only wanted to stake my own. After the book was published I never heard from them again and I don’t know why. It was disappointing and hurtful if I’m honest.”
    “Clay, then they were never really your friends. Real friends support you. And that’s what I’m gonna do for your next book every step of the way.”
    “Writing a book is so consuming. Anyway, what would I write about?”
    Monet paused in deep thought.
    “Hmm, write about something you’re passionate about, excited about. I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”
    “You just gave me an idea. Something that I’m passionate and excited about? That’s you and me.”
    “Anything but that. No way, Jose,” Monet replied defensively.
    “Why not? I think it would be a good read,” I commented.
    “Clay, women would judge me for having an affair on my husband. Not to mention Marc would go on a warpath if he found out. End of conversation.”
    Monet thought she talked me out of the idea of writing our story, but she was far from it.
    Together we spotted the exit sign to Dulles Airport and the reality of separation was like a kick in the stomach. I started to feel depressed because of uncertainty and the thought of losing her again.
    “Clay, I promise not to cry. We’re gonna be okay, right?”
    The uncertainty in her voice started to set me off. But I managed to hold it in. I couldn’t look into her brown eyes without losing it, so I avoided direct eye contact.
    She wouldn’t let go of my hand even while I checked my luggage. Then came the hard part.
    As I walked to security control I could feel my legs wanting to buckle. I didn’t want to leave her, and it was just killing me knowing I would have to say goodbye in a few moments.
    “May I see your boarding pass, sir?”
    “Sure. Are the international flights on time?” I asked.
    I was praying for a cancellation or at least a delay so I could spend just a little more time with Monet.
    “You can check the monitor after you pass through. Mr. Thompson, you’re good to go. Please proceed to the line on your left.”
    I kept wiping single tears from either eye as I turned around to give Monet one last hug. Monet nervously reached into her purse for a tissue but by the time it was in her hand it was too late. She sobbed, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
    Seeing her burst into tears just completely overwhelmed me with emotion. The security control officer asked us to move aside to allow other passengers through.
    Monet repeated the same words over and over.
    “We’re gonna be okay, right?”
    I wiped the tears from her face and tried to assure her.
    “Look at me, look at me. I’m still here. I will always be here. Don’t ever forget that, okay? I love you, Ms. Dawson.”
    “Okay, I’ll hold you to that. You’d better go now.”
    We kissed one last time before I reentered the security line. My heart was heavy. I looked back to wave at every opportunity. She remained in place waving back until I passed through the X-ray booth. I couldn’t see her anymore. I felt loneliness setting in. I desperately wanted to hold her in my arms. But in my heart I knew it would be a while before I could make that happen again. She was gone.

TEN
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Dark Shadows
    W elcome to England. May I see your passport and landing card,” asked the nice lady at UK Customs and Immigration.
    “I have two passports, ma’am. My work visa and componency stamp are in my expired passport,” I explained.
    Normally this response results in a five-minute delay and the paging of a supervisor. But this young woman was knowledgeable and expeditious. My passport was stamped and I found myself at the baggage claim in record time.
    All the jockeying I had to do to get out of the car park reminded me why Heathrow Airport was one of