Alice's POV:
It was midday, the worst time to arrive at the airport. The second Tyler pushed on the brake, Nina and I jumped out of the car. It was hard to breathe. The air was heavy and smelled of diesel. We were sweaty even before we had reached the lounge.
The air-conditioning blasted on our sweaty faces when we entered a small cafe confined between two stores. The walls were a drab, grassy green, decorated with faded paintings of the island.
Carla sat on a light brown chair in the corner of the room beside Mrs.Ricci. She said something, and Mrs.Ricci smiled, holding onto her hair. Two pieces of luggage, black and red, lying beside them.
Nina and I walked towards them, and within a mere second. Nina covered her mouth and burst into tears. Carla stood up, the long black and white dress falling just below her knees. She wrapped her arms around Nina while I stood there, attempting to follow what is occurring.
Carla looks at me and smiles, a sweet, steady action.
"Where are you guys going?" I ask.
She looked at Mrs.Ricci, who also held a small smile on her face. "We are going to Italy, back to Mrs.R- mom's hometown."
"W-What?" Nina stutters, wiping off her tears.
Carla placed a hand on her flat stomach. "Mom and I decided it is best to raise the baby elsewhere," she took a sniff, attempting to hold back the tears, "I'm sorry it's last minute."
Soon, Ian and Pamela arrived. We all sat around a circular white stoned table listening to Carla's explanation. Mrs.Ricci would stay quiet, but we could hear the low whimpering beside us.
Carla didn't want to raise the baby, where there may be a chance Randy's father may come back one day. She understands that Mrs.Ricci is scared of him; that's why she stayed all these years. She was afraid of leaving.
Fear, a chain reaction in the brain that begins with a frightening stimulus, ends with the body preparing to protect itself from danger.
Mrs.Ricci was brainwashed all these years by Randy's father with fear; how he will come after them no matter where they run. She admitted running away a few times with Randy, but somehow they were always found. The beat-up got worse and worse each time they ran away, and so, she got afraid and stopped running.
But, with Randy's death and a new grandchild, Carla was able to convince her to leave the country.
Looking at Mrs.Ricci, we can feel the dread, anxiety, and panic. She feared that he would show up any second and dragged them back. Carla held her hand the whole time to reassure her. Thirty minutes before the departure, we left and walked to the loft with her. Everyone gathered in a line of a chair, one or two still standing. There were plasma screens of arrival and departure times on the wall of the airport. People were lined up at the check-in desk with suitcases and baggage. In the background, soft classical music played, but barely anyone can hear it.
Ian rubs Carla's stomach, "You should name the child after me," he grins.
Pamela hit his head, "Stupid, what if it's a girl?"
"Ianella! Duh!"
We started joking around, attempting to lighten the atmosphere, but we were all still anxious.
Then there was a beeping sound, "Check-in for flight 35 to Rome, Italy. Calling all passengers to check in to flight 35 Rome, Italy."
We all stayed quiet, and Carla smiled. Nina and I take a step back; she stands up with Mrs.Ricci.
"Got everything?" I ask.
She nods, "Passport, tickets, ID."
Carla reached for luggage, but Ian grabbed it. "Let me help," his voice cracked, and he sniffed, trying not to cry.
Slowly, we walk them towards the entrance.
Surprisingly it was not Nina who was the first to break, but Pamela. "I can't do this," tears burst down her face.
Pamela covered her face with her hands and crouched down. "Who is going to go shopping with me and tell me how ugly my taste in clothes is!"
Silently, even with watchful eyes, Carla went down and held her. "Shhh, it will be okay."
Pamela hugs Carla, "It is not okay! We just got to know each other! I actually like you even when you called me a hillbilly looking troll!"
Soon, Nina broke with them and went on her knees to join the hug. Carla extended her arm and held her close. "What the fuck. What the fuck?" she repeats, unable to convey any wise words adequately.
"Fuck this," Ian mumbles and drops the bag onto the ground, then went down with them. I bit my trembling lips seeing him crying with them, nor caring about the perfect image he builds.
Carla's eyes were red, with layers of puffed as she looked up at me. Blonde streaks of wet hair covering her pale features, and she spread her arms.
I dropped and cried, gathering into the group.
"It will be okay. We will all be okay," Carla whispers to us despite our protest.
"I repeat. Check-in for flight 35 to Rome, Italy. I repeated, calling all passengers to check in to flight 35 Rome, Italy."
One by one, we released Carla. She hugs everyone tightly.
First, it was Pamela, whose dark makeup etched down her features. "I wish we talked earlier."
Carla smiles, "Better late than never, Troll."
Pamela giggles and nods, "Be safe, Miss QB."
Then, she spread her arms towards Ian, whose nose was a deep shade of red. Ian held onto her tightly. "Fuck," he grumbles.
She laughs, "Take care of the Troll. She is quite the handful."
He nods, wrapping his arm around Pamela, who smiles, "I will."
Carla looked at Nina, who takes a step back. "Don't hug me," she pouts.
She chuckles, "I am going to anyways. Bear hug!" she shouts and jumps on Nina, who instantly embraces her back.
"Live happily, Nina, no matter what others expect from you. Live happily for yourself," she whispers, then takes a step back. "Will you do that for me?"
Nina inhaled through her stuffy nose and nods, "I'll live for myself."
Carla wipes off her tears, "And no one else."
They hug once more, staggering back and forth.
Finally, it's my turn.
Carla stood there and smiled. Then, she bites her lower lips. "I can't do this, not with you," she whimpers, a new round of water making its appearance.
When I saw her crying, I cried. I held her, "How about this?" I gathered a deep breath, "Let's not make this a goodbye, but rather a see you later?"
Her chest ruffled, and she nodded, "Yes, see you later."
She looks at everyone, "Mind if I talked to Alice alone?"
They nod and walk closer to the entrance, granting us some private time. Carla sat down, patting the chair beside her.
"How are you?" Her voice was steady and calm.
I chuckled at her sudden question. She is the one who is flying far away, towards a country she had never set foot in to start a new life, and she asked me how I am?
"I'm fine."
She held my hand, "You're not fine, are you?"
I shook my head, "I'm-" her eyes pierced through me, "I'm not fine."
"And everything is not okay?" she asks.
I bit my lips, "Everything is not okay," I repeat.
Carla released a deep breath; puzzlement filled her pale features, almost as if she wanted to tell me something but can't. She inhaled a breath of air then looked back at me. "Alice, remember when we watched movies together late at night?"
"Where Nina always falls asleep unless it's a horror movie? Then, she screamed into our already deaf ears and woke us up at night to pee with her?"
She laughs, "Yes, those," her hand tightens, "Do you remember what you told me when we watched a superhero movie?"
My lashes batted a few times, sticking onto my flesh. "There is no such thing as villains in a story."
"Because-"
"Villains and heroes don't exist. It all comes down to the status quo. The world roots for whoever fights in their favor, and sometimes what we deemed is good isn't necessarily good. What we deemed is justice may not be justice."
She smiles, "Exactly. Heroes and villains are labels, individuals who get locked down by society make-believe of what is suggested as normal," she exhales and looks down at her lap. "In comic books, villains killed, but there is a reason why they don't win. Tell me why they don't win."
I lick my salty lips, "It's because they have a heart, but the world never allowed them a chance to let it blossom. Why?" I swallowed, "It may be because they were born into a family with an alcoholic father. It may be because society constantly rejects them. It may be because they were born into a family filled with these so-called villains, never given a true chance to be good."
She held both my hands, "Do you understand what I'm saying?"
I took a few blinks, trying to comprehend her words.
Carla inhaled a sharp breath. "Do not accept what everyone deemed as good. Follow your heart and make the best decision for yourself, even if that decision at that specific moment seemed wrong."
The speaker caught our attention. "Last call. Check-in for flight 35 to Rome, Italy. I repeated, calling all passengers to check in to flight 35 Rome, Italy."
I wrap my arms around her, and soon everyone follows, mumbling a: "See you later."
We stood there, watching them. Carla took Mrs. Ricci's hand and led her towards the entrance. Mrs.Ricci hands in her information. Carla turned around, her eyes shifted, grazing with a fresh glassy layer, and with one last beautiful smile, she screamed: "I'll see you all later!"
We gave her a small waving, eyes not willing to blinked as they watched her grab the luggage. We watch her until she disappears into the narrowed halls.
From the airport's large finger stained window, we watched the wing engine illuminated, the lower half shining around the rim, with an upper half several shades darker. The plane turns, the line between shadow and light moves.
We watched as the white plane began moving down the lane. The speed increased, and soon it took off. Our eyes stuck on it as it crossed the evening skies, whitetails left to fade with the last of dusk.
I placed a hand on the glass, staining it with my fingerprints. "I'll see you later."
Even with Randy's death and Carla's departure, time didn't stop. Our rituals of passing the day continued. The scars in our hearts widen, but that didn't prevent us from breathing, from living.
But why does living feel so empty?
If this is living, how does death feel?
My fingers glazed down the hot glass, eyes casting out the transparent window. The scent of warm orange tea invaded my nostrils. The gloom of the day is reflected in the moods of everyone.
Today, there is no sky, only a rough blanket of grey to cover us all and block out the sun. The air muted to the point of dullness, emptiness. The atmosphere is heavy with the dampness of a coming storm, forcing everyone to seek shelter.
It's unnaturally quiet.
Soon, it sprinkled—little droplets of water-drenched everyone who fell...victim.
The water droplets started growing larger and falling frequently. The light pitter-patter of rain turned into wet thuds as the water raced to meet the ground. Rain beads the chipped paintwork of the cars and bounces from every hard surface.
The wind blew the door open, ringing the bell that hangs above. Squeaks of wet shoes hit the tile floor. "Is this seat taken?"
My eyes cast up, meeting deep grey. "Marvin."