Violet
—
TODAY IS THE WORST DAY of my whole entire life. Yes, in all my seventeen years and 27 days of life, this is the worst one. Let's start from the beginning, shall we?
When I was thirteen my parents got a divorce. Wow, so quirky, so different! I know. But to be fair, my mother does have a new family now in London with a guy named Christopher, whom I've only met once, and a four year old daughter named, Raina. She immediately cut all ties with me and my dad once she got the chance. Changing her last name from Steele to Clemson, going to the farthest place imaginable, and posting pictures of her new fabulous life.
So I thought.
I got an email from my mom one day, asking me to come to London for the summer. I contemplated telling her that I hate her guts and would rather die in an underground bunker with no food rather than spend time with her and her new family, but my dad said that that was a little aggressive. So I replied, "I'll have to think about it." I definitely did not think about it. I spent weeks and weeks dodging her emails, ignoring her constant calls, and some of her paragraph long text messages. At that point, I really wanted to just block her number.
Then, she began to text my dad. Now I knew that this was definitely not my decision anymore. After having a two hour FaceTime call with my mom and my dad who was pretending to actually care about the conversation, they both decided on making me go— definitely against my will. Isn't that breaking some type of law or something?
So now I am packing two weeks worth of clothes into a rose gold suitcase for a flight that's in seven hours. Great. I closed the bottom drawer of my white wooden dresser, placing the last piece of clothing into my suitcase. I zipped it up with a bit of a struggle (I don't pack lightly) and decided to carry my luggage down the stairs and already get a head start for the airport.
Something about airports late at night just gives me a nice calm feeling. It's quiet and serene. People have stories just from how they present themselves. Some are going on vacation, and some are moving their whole life away to another country. Some are saying hello to their relatives, and some are saying goodbye to theirs. It was a nice place to be. Undoubtedly one of my favorite places in the world.
Planes— that's where I falter. I've never been a big fan of airplanes or heights. Fun fact, this is my first time flying alone, which makes this experience one hundred times more scarier. In the air being comforted by just yourself? That's terrifying.
The time was 12:07am and my dad was fast asleep on the couch, watching this week's episode of Shark Tank. I pulled out a piece of lined paper from my notebook pad and decided to leave a note for him, so he doesn't file a missing person's report once he wakes up.
Hey dad. I'm leaving for the airport now so yeah. Don't watch the newest House Hunters without me or I'm going to have to kill you. See ya in two weeks paps. Deuces.
- Violet :)
I slipped the note under the fruit bowl on the dining table and started for the door. I don't have an actual drivers license, so I'm going to have to take the bus (per usual). I have my permit, but I never got around to actually taking the drivers test. I know I would pass, but sometimes it's just easier to have other people drive for you.
I locked the front door and rolled my suitcase to the nearest bus stop. The sky was pitch black with only a couple stars brightening up the place, but some streetlights glowed enough for me to be able to see what's a few feet in front of me.
The bus stop was empty and littered with paper towels and the remains of someone's bean burrito from Chipotlé. I stood beside the bench, not daring to sit down on that bacteria filled seat, waiting for the bus that will take me to the Ontario International Airport.
I waited, scrolling through my phone and seeing absolutely no new notifications. It's not like I didn't have friends, I have friends. Okay, I had friends. That was until Glenna Humphrey decided to stab my back twenty seven hours ago and made up a rumor that I was the reason for her breakup with her (now) ex-boyfriend, Josh. Quite frankly, it was utter bullshit. I haven't even had my first kiss!
All of my friends decided to eat up all of this crap and decided to remove me from the friend group. It was toxic for years, I should have left earlier, honestly. But some part of me kind of liked being with them. Yes, they were terrible people to the eye, but once you get to know them they were quite— meh. They were the only friends I had, I'm pretty sure they just used me so I could give them homework answers, but still. I had company, it was nice.
Maybe me going to London will be a good thing. I don't have to see anyone for two weeks, I get to go to freakin' London, and who knows? I may possibly meet a cute British boy? Psh— who am I kidding? That would be in my wildest dreams.
The bus came to a loud stop as an exhausted (and definitely grumpy) old lady opened the bus doors. I sent her a soft awkward smile as I went up the tiny staircase with my luggage in hand, making my way to the back of the bus. She quickly closed the doors, muttered a few things under her breath, and began driving to the airport. I live in Pomona, California meaning that this ride will be about sixteen minutes long. That gives me enough time to post a picture on my Instagram story (hopefully making everyone surge with jealousy), and listen to a bit of music.
I pushed my AirPods into my ears, pressing play onto "Pluto Projector" by Rex Orange County. There were a few bumps on the road, making me hold onto my suitcase handle a bit tighter. It was freezing on the bus due to the driver having the AC at Arctic levels, and I could feel my body shiver. It was 78° outside, so I suppose this was slightly better. I hugged my knit sweater close to my cold body, regretting not bringing a hoodie. My sweatpants were not doing me any justice as my legs crossed over each other, trying to keep each other stable.
After sixteen minutes of almost freezing to death, we made it to the airport. There were only a few tired people waiting in the pick up zone for their ride. I thanked the bus driver, giving her a little bit more than the actual fee due to her driving me at such a late time and waltzed off the bus and through the doors of the airport.
The inside was dull and quiet. Some people were sleeping in chairs and on the ground, others were on the phone, talking about how their flight got canceled or rescheduled.
I walked through security, sliding off my shoes and doing the regular checks for weapons or anything illegal. Gladly they didn't find my drugs. That was a joke. Sorry, that was bad, um.
I made my way to the gate, settling my suitcase down on the ground and sitting in one of the black chairs scattered throughout the small section. I was the only person at the gate, making sense since we still had six and a half hours left until we board. It was insanely cold in here as well— not as bad as the bus, but still enough to give me chills.
If I'm going to be here for six and a half more hours, I might as well grab a drink. I held my suitcase in my hand, rolling it around to find the nearest Starbucks in here. I don't know if they're twenty four hours, but let's just pray. I am in dire need of some caffeine right now.
I walked through the abandoned halls of the airport, some stores were open and some didn't open until eight am. Gift shops were piled high with "I Love Los Angeles!" T-shirts and fanny packs. I cringed at the terrible font that they chose.
I found the seemingly only open Starbucks and walked in. A man with a beard, glasses, and a beanie, wore a green apron and a "I hate my life" expression. He moved to the cash register as he noticed me waiting at the counter.
"What can I get you?" he had a grumpy voice and I almost wanted to turn around and find someplace else to get a drink.
"Hi, can I get a grande iced chai with soy milk?" he glanced at me before putting my order into the screen of the cash register. "Oh, can I also get a banana nut bread?" he rolled his eyes and put that in as well. For a second, I swear I heard him say, "I quit." I really hope he doesn't poison my drink.
I stood by the pickup area, watching him grab my bread and make my drink.
I'm actually more nervous than angry to be going to London and seeing my mom. What if she sees me and decides that me coming was a mistake? Or what if I meet her daughter and my mom thinks that she's better than me? Of course I'm not jealous of a four year old having my mom's attention more than me, but I was her first child. You would think that would mean something, right? But no, the most I've gotten from her in the past four years was a gift card every birthday for AppleBee's— I hate AppleBee's.
Even when I was thirteen and I got my first period, I had to watch Youtube videos while my dad and I stared uncomfortably at all of the different choices of pads at Target. I messaged my mom about it the day of, to which she responded two weeks after with, "Congratulations, you're a woman!" Definitely not something that you want to hear when you live with just your dad who knows nothing about a woman's menstrual cycle.
"The chai and bread." the grumpy worker's deep voice announced to me, the only person in the store. I shuffled to the pickup counter, grabbing both of my items and sticking a green straw into the small center area of the lid.
"Thank you!" I waved as I walked back towards the gate. He was too tired to even respond, dozing off and closing his eyes.
I used the same route back to the gate, passing the group of droopy nappers, the cheesy airport gift shop, and a bathroom that I will most definitely have to use soon.
I spotted my previous seat that was still unoccupied, but I noticed someone else was sitting in the chair adjacent to it. He had a black backpack between his legs, and over the ear headphones. His phone looked way too small for his hands and his gold necklace dangled as he leaned forward to his phone. He was actually quite cute.
If we weren't in an airport and I wasn't probably never going to see him ever again, I would go up and say hi. But considering the circumstances, I am doing the exact opposite.
I sat back down in my chair, which is a bit uncomfortable since he chose to sit in the seat directly in front of mine. I would move, but this is the closest to the front desk of the gate and I'm not losing this seat.
So, I propped my knees up to my chest, and stuck my AirPods back into my ears, hopefully ridding us from any awkward eye contact— that would be the worst thing that could ever possibly happen.
My eyes packed their own form of luggage underneath them, sporting dark bags and round black glasses. I don't really need glasses as an everyday thing. It's really only when I have to read things up close or when my eyes are tired. Don't question the tired eyes thing, my optometrist can explain it way better than I would.
Twenty minutes passed of drinking my cool beverage (I honestly don't know why I got a cold drink) and taking small bites of my banana nut bread. The time was now 1:03am
and weirdly, I wasn't tired at all. Usually I would pass out before eleven o'clock, but there is no ounce of exhaustion in me. It's really just anxiety and boredom taking over my body.
I was slightly bobbing my head to the music flowing through my ears, occasionally glancing at the cute boy that hasn't moved an inch since he got here. Sometimes our eyes would meet, making me quickly move my eyes away as if I wasn't just staring at him. Suddenly, my music went out and my screen went black. Of course, out of all the days this could've happened, my phone died and guess what? I left my charger on my desk at home.
I suppose I could just go and buy a charger from the gift shop, but I don't have much money left on me. I spent the first month of summer working at the boba shop right around the corner of my house. I managed to make enough money to go on a shopping spree, but that never happened because my mom decided on making me pay for half of the plane ticket. It was so unfair, I was livid.
"But honey, this teaches you responsibility." my mom said over FaceTime three weeks ago. She acts as if I didn't learn anything about responsibility the day she left us. It was just me and my dad. He worked a full-time job that barely paid the bills, making me find things I can do around the neighborhood, like mowing someone's lawn, or taking their dog on walks because what real job hires a thirteen year old? None that's who.
So, buying a charger from the gift shop isn't an option. What now? My eyes bounced throughout the airport, trying to come up with an idea of how to get my phone back up and running. Then, I saw it.
The boy had a charger.
I need that charger. So, doing what any desperate person would do, I got up and walked towards him, clutching onto my dead phone and praying to God that he doesn't say no.
I stood directly in front of him as he glanced up at me with a smile. He removed his headphones and paused his music, probably wondering why I was disturbing his peace. This is so embarrassing.
"Hi."
—
Wow, here we are again with another Louis Partridge book. I'm so excited for this one because I pre-wrote it instead of having to write a new chapter each month, so I think this is going to be good!
I'm using the same concept from a book that I really love called, "The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight" by Jennifer E. Smith. She's a great writer and inspired the meeting at an airport concept, and the parent issues LOL (except I made the mom problematic). I love this story more than anything I've ever written before and I'm just so beyond excited!!
Okay, I love you! Bye!
- x, Sofia