Short Story: MISSED CONNECTIONS

To celebrate the fact that I've officially completed my English Literature and Creative Writing degree, I'm sharing a short story that I wrote for one of my university's fiction workshops (shoutout to Brock University). The story received positive feedback from the workshop group, so I'm posting the first draft here for you to read.

The piece is entitled "MISSED CONNECTIONS" and takes place in a real-life setting: The Hungry Hangar (shoutout to anyone from Wiarton, Ontario). However, while the setting is *more or less* real, the story itself is fictional. This is a different genre than I usually work with, focusing on realism and romance rather than fantasy. By the end of the summer, I hope to have the final draft professionally published (pray for me).

I hope you enjoy the story, and as always, let me know if you have any feedback!

All material is copyrighted.

---

MISSED CONNECTIONS

Short Story by Kelsey Gatis

I stared out of the diner window beside me as another plane took its position on the tarmac runway, probably only a hundred metres away. It was a G36 Bonanza, an American-made single engine aircraft. I counted down in my head as the wing’s metal flaps came down, and the pilot signalled the all clear. As I mouthed ‘zero’, the plane sped forward, building momentum to take flight. The cup in front of me rattled. Coffee splashed over the edges of the ceramic, dripping down onto the wooden table. 

Just as it seemed like the plane might crash into the little restaurant at the end of the runway, it lifted from the ground and soared over the building. My eyes followed the machine as it disappeared from my window’s view. The two other customers in the diner also watched, mouths slightly agape. The women were fellow regulars, sharing a plate of pancakes as they watched the planes depart.

I came to The Hungry Hangar for a coffee every day after my shift at the small nearby airport. I always sat by the window to witness the planes take flight, in the opposite corner from the speakers playing sad jazz music. The place was owned by a local pilot’s wife whose name I could never quite remember, and even though it smelled like cigarettes in the women's washroom, it was the only place in this small town where I felt truly comfortable. My dad used to bring me here on weekends when I was little, and over the years, it hadn't changed at all. The smell of coffee and bacon became a hug on the days I needed it most. The building's grey paint winked in the sun, and a red light-up "OPEN" sign that had been missing its batteries for the last three years swung over the door without fail. Even the people grew familiar enough that some of them would greet me with a hearty, "Morning, Grace!" whenever I arrived. 

With a loud jingle, the door behind me opened and interrupted my thoughts. A cold breeze brushed the back of my neck, shifting the loose hairs from my ponytail. I hunched over my cup of coffee to protect myself from sudden exposure to the elements. It was November, meaning autumn had officially turned to brutal winds and constant overcast. Snow would follow any day now, and I’d have to switch from Converse to Walmart winter boots.

I glanced up at the passing stranger, a man in a long grey coat, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He shuffled his feet over the mat at the door to wipe off the sludge and dead leaves stuck to the bottom of his brown Timberlands. He stopped a few feet from the cash register, and I couldn’t see his face, but I imagined he was squinting at the menu board, struggling to read the scratchy handwriting and smudged white chalk. The hostess peered out from the kitchen window, saw the man there, and hurriedly stepped out. She wiped her hands on the black apron tied around her waist and raised her brow at the man. Her name was Clarise. A likable girl, just a year younger than me.

She smiled, flashing perfect white teeth. “What can I get you, sir?”

As if startled, the man’s head dropped back down. He stepped forward. “Yes, hello. I was wondering if you could make a cappuccino? I don’t see it on your menu.”

His words made my chest tighten so suddenly and painfully that I jolted back in my little wooden chair, the ceramic cup of coffee clattering as my fist closed around its handle. To anyone, it might have looked like I detested cappuccinos. But I knew that voice. I knew that man. A rapid montage of months spent with him sprung to my mind. I thought of no specific memory—just him. How his stubble grew out when he got too lazy to shave. How his hair stood up in the morning after hours of lying in bed. How his eyes turned bright blue in the sun. How he made me smile when he greeted me with a kiss. How he laughed. How he cried. How his arms felt around me. How he said goodbye. How he looked back before he slammed a door for the last time.

My eyes swung to the window, refusing to turn back. I blinked away the surge of memories. We hadn’t seen each other in two years—hadn’t spoken since that day in the park when he handed me back my spare key. No, wait. That was wrong. The last time we spoke was when I’d caved and called him during my smoke break at work.

“Hi?” he said.

“Hi,” I said.

“Who is this?”

He’d deleted my contact.

I paused. Closed my eyes. A cigarette trembled between my fingers, a faint orange glow in a dimly lit parking lot outside the hangar. The line fell silent.

I wished I hadn’t called.

“Grace?” He didn’t hang up.

“Hi,” I said again. 

“Is there a reason you called?” So cold. 

I’d had a hundred reasons to call him seconds ago, but on the line with him, I suddenly had none. 

I stared at the empty runway, hoping to hide my startledness by lifting my mug to my lips. I took a long sip. Coffee pooled in my mouth and burned. I swallowed it down anyway, continuing to take another sip. And another. I felt the liquid travel all the way down my throat, through my chest, and into my stomach. It did nothing to stop the frantic beating of my heart. My sternum ached from its force. I wondered if I should say something—do something.

The hostess must have shaken her head because Drew added, “That’s alright. Never mind, then. I’ll have whatever you like to make.”

This time, my eyes had no problem jumping back to Drew. They even widened as if to help them process what they saw.

“Well, maybe you can teach me how to make a cappuccino.”

Drew chuckled. I had fond memories of him chuckling, but now the sound made me want to plunge screwdrivers into my ears.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said. 

He was flirting. They were flirting with each other.

“Where are you from?” Clarise asked, now grinning. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I live further south, but I’m travelling through here today for a trade convention up north.”

“You’re a businessman?” she asked. She bit her lip. A small scoff escaped my throat before I disguised it with a slightly louder cough.

“Yes, that’s right.” I could practically hear him blushing.

“Let me guess… based on your clothes, I’d say you have a job in finance?”

She was right.

To my surprise, Drew shook his head. “Good guess, but I’m in marketing, actually. I recently switched to marketing.”

I didn’t know that. But I was happy for him—he’d always hated finance.

“What made you stop here? The Hungry Hangar is far off the highway north.”

He shrugged, casting a glance around the room. My eyes widened involuntarily and I ducked towards the window, out of his sight. He answered, “I had a friend who used to work around here to pay off her studies in aviation.”

It felt as if my heart just cracked a rib. That was me. I was the ‘friend.’ But I didn’t work here anymore. I wanted to jump up from my table, shout his name, and throw my pilot’s license at him, to tell him I didn’t work here anymore. I graduated from aviation school a year ago. It almost made me angry that he didn’t know. He used to know everything about me.

But I stayed in my chair, watching them from the corner of my eye. I sipped my coffee and did nothing else. I couldn’t say anything. What could I say to a man I used to love?

“What was her name?” Clarise’s voice took a colder tone. She seemed discouraged from flirting now that he’d mentioned another woman.

“It doesn’t matter.” He shrugged, waving his hand to dismiss the topic. “If she doesn’t work here anymore then she must've graduated. Anyway, I’ll have a regular coffee to-go, please.” It doesn’t matter. I hated when he said things like that. 

“Sure thing.” Clarise disappeared to grab a pot of coffee from the machine, then brought it to the counter with a to-go cup. She glanced up at Drew through her caked-on mascara.

At that moment, another plane took off. The diner rattled from the force of it, and a loud hum of an engine consumed any conversation. Drew jumped back from the approaching plane, swearing loudly as it swooped past the window. 

He spun back around to Clarise. “Do those pilots always fly that close?”

The coils of her dark brown hair bounced as she nodded. Her laugh sounded like music. “You get used to it.”

“You’re brave to work here. I mean, braver than me. I couldn’t possibly make a decent cup of coffee while that’s going on overhead. It’s the same reason why I hate going dancing at clubs. All that noise and rumbling, I would never be able to—”

“—to relax,” Clarise finished for him. She smiled down at her hands as she fixed a lid over the cardboard coffee cup. I wondered if she noticed that he talked too much. I wondered if she found it charming like I had when I first met him. 

Now, it made my teeth grit. 

Clarise finally handed him his coffee to go. If I wanted to say anything to him, this was my last chance. 

I waited for him to ask for her number. I waited for her to ask him if she would see him again. But neither of them said anything. Drew turned around to leave.

I shrunk into my chair, twisting against the window again to hide my face. I listened to his footsteps, followed by the loud bells that rang when the restaurant door opened. And then it closed. 

I released a breath, straightening myself again. My shoulders dropped. He was gone.

My head turned, and I glimpsed Drew unlocking his car through a window on the other side of the diner. His grey coat flapped in the wind as he climbed into the driver’s seat. The engine rumbled. Slowly, he pulled out of the driveway and turned onto the winding road, down the hill, back toward town. Toward the highway.

Another plane took off in the window behind me. I didn’t look as the diner trembled from its force. Instead, I watched until Drew's car disappeared from my sight. He was my plane lifting from the runway, climbing higher until I couldn’t see him between the clouds anymore.

The End.