After wrestling my luggage out of the overhead bins, feelings of frustration consuming me, I emerge into the airport full of bustling travellers and call my sister. Before she can even say hello, I begin: “You’d expect mostly silence. Yes, okay, maybe a baby cries here or there or the rustle of people moving luggage or getting up to go to the bathroom fills the silence. Flight attendants do check on you and ask questions, sure. You’d also expect to be left alone by your seat mates, though. If I was travelling with someone, like you, of course we’d probably interact. That’s different. Not to mention it was a late night, long international flight, and you’d definitely expect to try to sleep for at least a few hours. No. Not my experience at all.
I got on the plane early so I was the first in my row, easily sliding into my window seat. I watched people pass by, questioning who would end up next to me, but there was no one for a while. I started to get excited thinking maybe I’d get the whole row to myself! I did not. The last person walked down the plane aisle and plopped right into the seat next to me.
I was thankful that at least it was a girl who seemed to be about my age. She had her black hair pulled back in a low messy bun and had giant black framed glasses falling down her nose. Freckles kissed the bridge of her nose and the shiny silver hoop in her nostril shined as it caught the slight glow from the cabin lights. She huffed as she attempted to fit her suitcase into the overhead bin, but it just wouldn’t budge. I took my headphones off and offered assistance but she denied. She finally took her backpack off of her back and tossed it into what I assume she thought was her seat, but it ended up flying into my lap and knocked my water bottle over into my lap. Apologetically, she expressed her stress and sorrows and tried her best to remedy the situation, but I could tell she was stressed so I just nodded and put my headphones back on. Once her bag was secured and she’d settled into her seat, she tipped her water over into her lap. She nudged my arm with her elbow and pointed to her crotch. I’m sure she could see the shock in my eyes so I pulled my headphones off again, but just long enough to hear her say “Now we both look like we’ve peed our pants!” Her grey sweatpants that closed tight at her ankles were definitely darker around the same area where my leggings had been soaked, but my pants were black and almost dry at this point, so she kind of just set herself up for more embarrassment. This was when I gave her a better look and noticed her bright blue pizza socks showing bold contrast between her muted tan clogs and grey sweats. I looked up and gave her a small giggle, noticing now that she was wearing a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt and a baggy black jacket. She was an interesting character for sure. I nodded to her again before sliding my headphones back on. It was almost take off and I was fully prepared to turn on my music and go to sleep.
The plane took off and she grabbed my hand. I let go immediately because my initial thought was “ew this is so weird why are you doing this,” but then she genuinely looked like she was going to cry. I finally took my headphones off for real this time and just played into her bit. “Are you okay?” I asked. She shook her head no and squeezed her eyes closed beneath her glasses. I was trying not to laugh. I sat there awkwardly for a bit then lifted my headphones again, but this time she put her hand atop mine and gave me a look of “please don’t.” I don’t know why I agreed, but I didn’t put them back on.
After we’d leveled in the sky, she turned her entire body to face me and stuck her hand out animatedly and said “I’m Bella!” I replied politely and said “Erin.” Then she continued to talk to me for the entire 12 hour flight. Told me all about her 5 cats and her grandma that she lives with and how she’s traveling to visit her father who randomly left the country and cut off all contact with her family and that he doesn’t know she’s coming! I just sat there stunned, but also incredibly annoyed that she wouldn’t shut up.”
“Wow” was all my sister could come up with in response. “And now I’m stranded in the Chicago airport because my layover got cancelled! Could this night get any worse?” I continued as her exasperated sighs echoed through the phone.
“Just get home safe, please.”
“I will. I love you.”
“I love you more.”
I turned my phone off and slid it back into my sweatshirt pocket adding both a physical and mental weight to my person. I carried myself to the only open joint in this place at this hour, a bar, and ordered an espresso martini at the ripe hour of 3am. I sipped lightly and scrolled, contemplated finding an empty terminal to set up camp and rest, but instead ordered another. I twisted the square napkin in a rhythmic pattern against the mahogany grain of the bar, feeling the pressure points beneath my fingers in a pattern meant to ease my anxieties. The drinks were not helping. Then, as if a sign from God himself, Bella appeared next to me again. “Shirley Temple, virgin, three cherries.”
I stared at her, stunned, before either one of us said anything. I was tired and tipsy and way too mellow to care, so I opened the conversation with “Did you ever make it to the bathroom?” She looked puzzled, so I reminded her of our earlier interaction. She offered an awkward giggle in response and sipped her bright, fizzy drink. I rested my head in defeat on my arm that lay before me on the bar and flicked the coffee beans out of my martini with my free hand. Feeling the weight of the world and the heaviness of my tired eyes, I started to drift off. “I’m sorry I came on so strong earlier” Bella said, speaking up as she twirled the ice in her glass with the skinny black straw.
I sat up and stretched as I yawned out the words “it’s okay.” I listened tiredly as she went on about how she is incredibly anxious about arriving to her destination and how she’s afraid of what she might be met with. In an attempt to seem like I cared, I asked why she was travelling and where she was travelling to. I watched as her demeanor completely shifted before my eyes as she asked, “are you sure you want to open that can of worms?” She side eyed me from behind her glasses as I stretched out my hand towards her and replied “Consider them opened.” We shook hands as I signaled for another round, completely awake now.
Conversation makes hours pass quickly until the sun eventually greets us in a beautiful array of pink and orange hues outside the window. We’re both sitting sideways to face each other as we catch our breath from laughing so hard, the golden glow framing every well carved quality of her innocent yet aging face. Alcohol and sleep deprivation have a way of making any story less heavy, even adding a layer of hilarity. She told me she’s going home because her dad is being released from prison after 20 years behind bars. I told her that I’m going home to visit my sister, the only family I have left that I still speak to. We started going back and forth, giggling at every remembrance of an event that could outweigh the one mentioned before. Her boyfriend just broke up with her compared to my last three boyfriends that had all cheated on me. It became a lesson in wishing for what is unattainable that kept us awake and engaged until I eventually asked if she was hungry. My brain still foggy from however many drinks I consumed, I stumbled through the airport with an arm slung over her sober shoulders as we walked to the random airport restaurant for some coffee and waffles. It was eye opening to listen to this girl speak so eloquently about her life and her experiences, it made my heart ache to think about what she’d been through. She lives with her grandmother because she had nowhere else to live. Her dad doesn’t know she’s coming because he doesn’t know her at all. She was a baby when he was sent away, she didn’t have any siblings and her mother was as absent as any mother could be. I sat complaining about her earlier, acted as if her presence was an issue and I had to force myself to be interested in what she had to say, and now I sit captivated by the way she speaks so wise beyond her years that my heart aches for her. She’s happy, and she makes that clear in many different ways, but the forceful lessons learned that she’s taken as a chance to grow rather than crumble is a character trait I so deeply admire.
It was my choice to stop speaking to my family. I chose personal peace instead of trying to be the peacemaker as I had my whole life. I’d been let down by empty promises and fallen plans that led me to stop caring and a whole new country, cutting off contact along the way. I knew there would always be a void where my family, who were once happy all together, would live, but I also knew I’d be better off. Keeping childhood happier memories alive was more important to me than tainting my views of those around me by continuing to live amidst their hurtful choices. I chose peace and disappeared, her family chose to stop speaking to her. I’d lost myself in my decision, but she never lets her empty voids dull her beautiful, bright, eclectic spirit. I sit across from her sipping my coffee as I ponder every decision I’ve ever made and question how those I’ve ghosted must feel. She is a walking example of what I’d done, she is the opposite end. I’d chosen this life of bitterness and became a selfish person in an attempt to savor any bit of me that I had left, but her whimsy reminds me of who I used to be; who I wish I still could be.
Before we part for our rescheduled connecting flights, I give her my phone number and the deepest hug. I could feel in the way she embraced me that we both needed that moment. When we pulled apart, I wiped a tear away from under her eye and thanked her for sharing her story with me. When I approached my terminal, I sat to think for a moment, and then I called my mom.
Edited and Reviewed by Kien Powell
