Paper Planes

PROLOGUE

When I was nine years of age, my father suffered an heart attack. He had been gardening in the front yard of our house, trimming the bushes and picking red roses for my mother. I distinctly remember that I watched him from the white French doors of the living room. I could see droplets of sweat running down the side of his head. His cheeks looked alarmingly red, just like two ripe tomatoes. I remember watching him smile as he picked the roses. He left them next to the French door through which I was observing him. That was the last time I looked into his eyes and told him that I loved him — I had blown my warm breath into the window and with my index finger, had written the three words on the foggy surface. My father went back to the grass and started the mower, pulling its cord. After two blinks, I followed his body as it collapsed on the lawn, lifeless.

On the day I turned ten years of age, I watched my father descend into the earth. People threw in white roses and strange men in black threw earth over his body. I watched my mother faint and collapse on the cobblestone ground. Everything was dark for a while. I couldn't see much, for my tears were too intense. They ran like a river. However, I could hear everyone around me. They were shouting for help and someone grabbed me by an arm. I didn't realise who did it.

When I was thirteen years of age, another life changing event occurred. I came home from school on the darkest day of the year, the day of my father's death. It had been four years already and I was about to turn fourteen. I had walked into the kitchen, dropping my backpack on the ground and eager to get an apple. As I walked around the kitchen island to get it, I saw my mother laying on the ground. She was slightly bleeding from the back of her head and I noticed the kitchen floors were soaked with olive oil. The bottle of the liquid was laying still on the ground, next to the fridge. I started panicking right away. All I could think of was the fact that I couldn't go over it again. I couldn't watch another parent die right in front of my eyes.

I got down quickly with my knees on the floor. I tried to listen to her heartbeat, to feel her pulse and after a moment of panic, I let out a breath I wasn't aware I had been holding. She was still breathing. I dialled 9-1-1 and explained the situation to the woman on the other side. She informed me that the ambulance was on its way and that someone from social services would be waiting for me at the hospital. I was supposed to ride the ambulance with my mother. After a couple of hours, she was stitched up and ready to go home. She had to explain the accident to the proper authorities, considering I was a minor.

All these events shaped my life and my personality in a strong manner. However, another one followed. This time there were no tragedies nor suffering. After graduating from university, my mother came up to me with the biggest smile of her life.

"When you were about six years old, your dad bought a regular map and tracked down all the ghost towns in our country. He told me that he would give it to you the day  you graduated from university — today." She started as she searched for the mentioned map in the black bag.

I could feel tears starting to prick up in my eyes and my throat was dry. I let her finish, "He used to call them paper towns and he used to say you had to fly paper planes to get there. You know your dad was a peculiar man and most of the time, I didn't understand what he meant. But he always had a good reason for everything he did or said, so I trust him like I have always trusted." She stopped to clear her throat and wipe away the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

"Mum...don't cry, please." I begged.

"I have only one request. I want you to read the letter he left you and to visit these paper towns he talks about. I know for a fact that he would have loved it." She hugged me then with all the strength she could muster.

I was speechless. I had never heard of this map before. She handed it to me that day. A few weeks later I got my first job as a translator. I decided to search for these paper towns over the weekends, over every single one of them. In one of these weekends, I met you and realised the whole goal of the map.

I had just gotten aboard a paper plane — the first one.