Baggage Claim by Jen Winston
Caitlin packed her past. Tian made room anyway.
"Jen Winston’s writing epitomizes the concept of both/and — multiple things can be true at once in every relationship. Celebrating that messiness is what being in love is all about." — Nina Haines, founder of Sapph-Lit book club
Caitlin takes her time with the outfit. After several jacket/purse/boot combinations, she lands on white bomber/tan crossbody/brown cowboy, respectively. She sighs with relief — the hardest part is over. Boots and all, she lays on top of her duvet, and waits.
Any minute, Tian will text her saying he’s left the house, and she will leave at exactly that moment. Everything will go according to plan.
She taps her phone, sees the background photo of her two cats. Opens Hinge. Looks at his photos again. Yes, good. Skater vibes, fashion sense. Trilingual! Well-traveled. Maybe even better traveled than she is. Her type.
She already knows she likes him. They’ve been talking for two weeks — he’s the last one she texts before she goes to sleep and the first one she texts when she wakes up. One would think that knowing each other would make the first date easier, would ease the nerves. But one would be wrong.
She knows some of her anxiety stems from other circumstances, ones out of Tian’s control. Her job, for starters. She’d expected London’s fashion industry to be artistic and glamorous, but it’s just late nights and early mornings, and a schedule that’s to blame for why she and Tian haven’t met yet. He’s been busy too, and as a result, they’ve scheduled this date like a meeting, holding time on their calendars weeks in advance. Is this normal, or does it mean they’re already bad at prioritizing each other, treating their relationship like a job? Is the whole thing over before it’s begun?
Then, of course, there’s the trip she has scheduled next week. She’s supposed to go to Mexico City, and it’s just like any other vacation … except it’s with her ex. She’s not involved with said ex anymore (aside from the cats they co-parent together) but Caitlin doesn’t want to explain all that to Tian at this stage. It would imply she comes with baggage — packed-to-the-brim, past-the-weight-limit baggage — and Tian seems like someone who could travel the whole world with only a carry-on. She doesn’t want to show him that she overpacks just yet.
She’s thought about canceling the trip, but each time she has the urge, she stops herself. That would be absurd; she hasn’t even met Tian in person. Canceling a vacation to a city she can’t wait to see on the chance that she’ll have chemistry with a guy from an app?
Calm down, she tells herself. Relax.
The phone vibrates. She sits up. Reads the text as she’s walking out the door.
“i’m almost here”
“sorry forgot to text when i was leaving lol”
Shit.
She runs.
Tian leans against the wall of Euston Station, one leg bent. He lifts the bent leg up, shimmies his shoulders down the wall a bit more.
When will Caitlin get here? He wants to be in the right position when she comes up that escalator. He switches legs, puts his sunglasses on, tries another pose. Reverts back to the first one again.
He should have texted her right when he left the house. Admittedly he makes mistakes like this often, but it’s never a reflection on whether or not he cares about a person; his mum always asks him to text her when he lands, and he’s never once texted her when he lands.
And this girl isn’t just any girl. This is the girl he’s been video chatting with because her schedule was as jam-packed as his was, and he liked her too much to wait until they could hang out IRL. The girl who knows he’s a history nerd and still wants to talk to him. The girl who messaged him first on Hinge, asking what animal he would be.
“people describe me as a street cat,” he replied. “you?”
“omg same,” she said. “as mum to two cats i guess it makes sense”
“got room for one more?” he asked.
She took a beat to reply, then said exactly what he hoped she would, “i do x”
The conversation was more honest than it seemed — Tian really does embody a street cat, bouncing from city to city, his gut deciding where to go next. Impulsivity has always been part of his charm, but recently he’s been longing for stability with someone else, a consistent companion. It’s a normal thing to want, but the desire conflicts with everything he knows about himself. Is a street cat even cut out to settle down?
Regardless, he really likes Caitlin. She seems like someone who might be open to an adventure, but also craves structure and admires ambition. He wants to show her that side of himself, explain his vision for a travel business, but then he’d have to tell her about his plan to move abroad, and that he likely won’t live in the U.K. for more than a year. He could always ask her to move with him, but that would be crazy.
She’d never say yes.
But what if … she did?
Caitlin wipes sweat off her brow. It’s an especially cold October day, and her jacket is the kind that traps heat the second you step onto the Tube — too wrapped up in nerves to take it off, she’s been roasting the entire 40-minute ride. The train pulls into the station and she sprints onto the platform, panting and fanning her face as she runs. She makes it to the extra-long escalator knowing he’ll be waiting at the top, grateful for the extra few seconds to recover.
I’m drenched, she panics. He’s going to think I’m a mess.
Ooh, she’s cute, he thinks. And so put together too.
The date is less of a date and more of an odyssey, an epic saga with different stories unfolding in every scene. There’s the cafe where they swap tales of near-death experiences, where he only orders a coffee because he’s so nervous; how could a person eat at a time like this? There’s the hour walk where Caitlin tells him she dreams of quitting her job someday. There’s the Tate Modern where she tells him she’s never seen “Before Sunrise,” and he gasps so loud that they get shushed by a museum guard.
When they head outside again it’s night; somehow time has kept moving even as they’ve stood still. They walk along the Thames, and though it’s fall, the stars gleam with the zeal of a summer sky.
They take a break, sitting on a bench under a lamppost. Tian can feel himself about to drop a historical anecdote, but a voice in his head tells him to rein it in. He considers it, but no — that’s who he is. Better she know him through and through, his authentic self, then assess if she can stand the heat.
“Do you want to know a fun fact about this specific lamppost?”
“Do I ever.”
“People call this a ‘dolphin’ lamp, but it’s actually a sturgeon.”
“Wow,” Caitlin says. Is this her dry humor, or does she actually like his trivia? Is she feigning interest, or does she actually like … him?
Should he kiss her? He wants to kiss her.
When will he kiss me? she thinks. I don’t mind the lamp stuff, but come ON.
Now he’s hanging off the post like Gene Kelly, and as if reading her mind, he swings toward her. Their lips touch, then both pull back, pleased with the effortlessness of what will hopefully be the first of many.
She likes him. Really likes him. Maybe she should cancel her trip after all.
After one date? Don’t be absurd.
What’s even to say he likes her?
He likes her, a lot a lot a lot. It’s fast but he knows. Who cares if it’s only their first date? It’s an endless adventure, a Linklater fantasy come to life. At some point he’ll have to catch the train home, but not yet. Not yet not yet not yet.
The lack of food catches up to him. They find a tapas spot, grabbing a welcoming table with red pillows. Tian orders in Spanish, then hears the waiter say “tá bom” and switches to Portuguese.
Espero que isso me faça parecer legal, he thinks. I hope this makes me look cool.
God he looks cool, Caitlin thinks. And he doesn’t even know it.
Casually speaking multiple languages? Is this waiter a paid actor, or is Tian just that good? Being around him makes her feel like a springy and spontaneous version of herself — an unmoored Caitlin filled with creative chaos, reaching all of her potential yet soaring higher still.
After three hours, they leave the restaurant, searching for excuses not to call it a night. They walk to a Tesco, buy canned mojitos. Rain starts falling, and they take cover on the National Portrait Gallery steps, where they kiss again.
“Come back to mine?” she asks.
“I have to catch the train,” he says.
She can tell he’s just trying to be respectful, as if he’d decided beforehand that he wouldn’t try to go home with her. She understands that — she doesn’t want to ruin this either. But maybe if she asks again …
“We can watch ‘Before Sunrise,’” she says.
The magic words.
“Deal.”
The next morning, Tian leaves in the afternoon. He expects not to hear from her much while she’s in CDMX, but they talk constantly. Listening to her fawn over the city makes him imagine traveling with her, and he can’t get the idea out of his head.
They have their second date the day she returns, and he says “I love you” in front of a Jollibee at Leicester Square. The location could have been more romantic, yes. They’ve only known each other a month, also yes. But she says it back, so maybe everything is just right.
They bask in the reciprocity for a moment, but then he can’t help himself.
“Would you ever move?” he asks. “To Asia, for a year or so? With me?”
She doesn’t recoil, but thinks for a moment.
“What about my job?”
“You hate your job,” he says.
“True,” she laughs. “But what about my cats?”
“Bring them! More the merrier.”
“I can’t,” she says, her voice suddenly quiet. “I co-parent them.”
He cocks his head. This is new information.
“With who?” he asks.
Caitlin looks down, avoiding his gaze.
“My ex.”
Tian tries to make sense of the pang in his gut. He’s hurt, but hurt by what? It’s not that her ex is still in the picture. No. He trusts her. Maybe it’s the fact that he, a street cat, is being constrained — and by house cats, no less.
Ordinarily he’d run away right now, but he feels compelled to lean toward her. Is this what it feels like to be tethered to something? To someone?
“Can I meet them?” he asks.
“My cats or my ex?”
He swallows hard, pushing through his resistance.
“How about all three?”
The next six months are a blur, mostly rearranging plans so they can see each other. During Fashion Week, she works more than 80 hours while Tian watches her cats. Whenever she gets a second to daydream with him, the two of them talk about his business, the potential to build something together. She sees it: Their future.
She does want to move. And she does want to quit her job. But wanting and doing are different things. She’s afraid of the hard conversation with her manager. She’s afraid of leaving her cats with her ex for a year (think of the children!). And though all of this is absolutely true, maybe it’s not the whole truth — maybe she’s also afraid to cut the cords to her existing life and take the leap. Because if they jump, where will they land?
Whatever the reason, she procrastinates. One more month turns into two, turns into six. And finally, Tian asks her if she’s serious.
She takes a deep breath. She wants to travel. She wants to work for herself. Most importantly, she wants to do it with him.
“I’ll talk to my manager tomorrow,” she says. She’s said this before, but this time it’s true.
Their flight to Bangkok leaves at 2 p.m., so he goes to her house at dawn to help her pack. Piles of clothes sit around the room, Caitlin between them, overwhelmed.
“Why do you need heeled boots?” Tian asks. “And three pairs of white trainers?”
“I just do.”
They roll up her shirts and stuff socks into purses, making space however they can. When they’re done they try to shut the bag, but it flops half-open.
“I packed light,” she insists.
“Very,” he replies.
Together they sit on the suitcase, their weight pushing down on its contents until the zipper slides effortlessly along the seam.
Caitlin exhales, standing the luggage upright.
“I’m really gonna miss your cats,” Tian says.
“Me too.” She smiles, then grabs his hand. “Let’s go.”
Jen Winston is a writer and bisexual whose work focuses on dating, queerness, and the millennial condition. She is the author of the critically acclaimed book “Greedy: Notes From a Bisexual Who Wants Too Much,” which was named a Lambda Literary Award finalist in 2022.