Chapter Two
I say my final goodbyes to Alex and board the aeroplane and begin my journey home. There's no fancy leaving ceremony, no paparazzi just a plain old exit from the past few months of excitement. However, I still get my first class spot on the plane – so it's not the plain Jane approach.
I get comfortable in my chair and stare out the window at my surroundings before they disappear. I'm not looking forwards to my break ending, but who does? I'm not excited about returning to school, not after what I've experienced. But it's inevitable, famous or not. I could pursue this career without the rest of my high school education, but then the last eleven almost twelve years of my life would have been for nothing.
The certificate may just be a piece of paper, but it's an important piece of paper that symbolised more – I'd actually managed to survive the jungle of high school and come out on top. It's not the best learning experience, but those mean girl bullies really set you up for the future.
For the trip back, I packed an assortment of things to keep me amused until landing. I'd packed books to read and draw in, cards to play and downloaded apps on my phone to play if all else failed. I'm hoping for a technology free time space so that I can enjoy the other aspects of life. I'm not sure when I'm going to have free time to read a book or draw a picture again.
I open up my scrap book and start scribbling little drawings around the page and write short lyric quotes under the pictures as I draw them. As I look out the window, I see the sun setting and scribble a horrible attempt of a half circle dipping into a straight shaded line. Underneath I write, 'today might have ended but tomorrow's yet to come.' Followed by, 'goodbye isn't forever when hello is around the corner.'
The urge to sing the words is hard to fight. I want to know what these lyrics sound aloud and not muffled by my thoughts. Everything always sounds better in your head, but your ears are the tools that pick up on the deception.
Pressing forwards with the song, I write down another line. 'You might have gone away, but I'll see you again.' When nothing else comes to mind, I shut my book and place it on the chair next to me. I can't decide what to write next and thinking about it is frustrating. I prefer those rare moments where the words flow through your body, out of your fingertips and onto the page. I love the idea of getting lost in a world in my head and not realizing until later.
I didn't manage to find a second to change into comfortable clothing for the flight back home. In-between interviews, car tips and spending time with Alex, the time seemed to have fallen through my fingers and vanished. Thankfully, I've managed to cram a second set of clothing in my carry-on bag.
My fingers find the seat buckle and press on the red ejection button. I push the loose seatbelt off my lap and stand up. I grab my bag from the overhead apartment and head down the corridor to change.
Most of people around me are older men dressed in business suits, others casual but expensive clothing. I expect to have people looking at me as I walk down – but everyone seems to be consumed by either technology or paper work. At least I know the bathroom will be free.
I open the bathroom door and go inside the small tight fitting cubical. I lock the door and tug on the handle to double check. When the door rattles against the frame, I move to check out my surroundings.
There's a toilet behind me, a bench with a sink and mirror in front of me. There's no space for my bag, so I place it in the sink so I don't have to crouch down – not that I would be able to.
I begin to dig through the bag and pull out my clothing. Previously when I was organising my suitcase with Ava, I decided to pack a pair of slip on shoes, black skinny jeans, singlet and a jumper with the lyrics, 'I'm dead inside, you make me feel alive.' I strip out of my flesh coloured stockings, skirt and top and scrunch the clothing articles and jam them back into the bag and then slip on my other clothing. It's a bit hard to put the jeans on, but I manage to with the expense of hitting my hip against the bench and my leg on the toilet bowl.
When I'm dressed and ready to go, I put my bag over my shoulder and unlock the door. I head down the aisle and to my chair. As I approach it, I notice someone subtly leaning over and looking down at my chair.
Frowning, I speed up and stand behind them.
"Can I help you with something?" I ask.
"Uh," the hostess jumps, "Did you need something to drink, eat?" She smiles.
"I'm fine, thank you."
"That's a beautiful book you have, did you decorate it yourself?" She points to the notepad I was writing in previously.
"Yeah, just something I was randomly doing before. I like scribbling random things on it and sticking pictures and stickers on it. I feel like it makes the book something more interesting and less plain," I say.
"Like a piece of art in its own right?"
"Yes." I nod my head.
"Sorry," she blushes, "I'll let you get back to your seat." The lady quickly walks ahead, leaving me behind. I frown at the weird occurrence and slide back into my seat – there's no point dwelling on mishaps.
I settle down and open a book to start reading, it's been on my list of 'things to do' for a while now, but I never found the time. I let myself get lost in the words of another person's story while I wait for inspiration for mine to hit me. One of the best things a writer can do!
Reading the book does the trick. One moment I'm flying through the air and the next minute I'm being told to strap into the seat as we land on the ground. The best part of flying is taking off and landing – and what's even best is the part where you get off to great your family.
The second we're allowed off the plane, I grab my carry-on bag and make a run for the exit door. It's hard to move through the crowd, but I eagerly wait, reach to pounce on free space to move me quicker through the terminal.
When I get out, my eyes immediately begin to scan the crowd. I look over faces of unfamiliar people until my eyes catch the familiar features of both my mother and my father. I run straight into the arms of my mother and hug her tightly.
"I missed you," I whisper into her ear.
"And we missed you too!" she says back.
Dad nudges my mother's arm and she lets go of me so that dad can give me a tight hug. It's been awhile since I've seen him, and I'm sort of still mad that he missed my first performance but when he's standing in front of me, smiling like there's nothing wrong – it's hard not to hug him back even tighter and pretend for the moment we're okay.
He coughs and lets me go after a second or so, "Let's get your baggage. Lucy and Hannah are waiting for you at home," he says.
"Okay." I nod my head.
Together we walk to the baggage collection area because I know there's going to be more bags than he'll be able to gather up himself. The area isn't as crowded as I first thought, so it makes it easy jumping in line and waiting for bags. After a few weeks, Ava donated my old suitcases to good will and brought a matching set to making traveling easier on Archer, and now me.
When the bright coloured cases come into view, I tell Mom and Dad which ones are mine and we start plucking them off the conveyer belt. We evenly share the bags between us before walking off to the car.
Mom walks ahead to open up the car while Dad and I trail behind with our cases. The air feels awkward, but I perceiver through it and keep my head high and my breathing quiet. I don't want to draw attention to myself.
Dad coughs, again. I hold myself back from turning my head to look at him and keep my eyes focused on the broad road ahead of me.
"I'm glad to have you back."
"I'm happy to see you."
We pack the bags into the boot and hop into the car. It feels familiar already and sort of even a bit like home.
"How have things been?" I ask, "What's Hannah been doing?"
"The usual hanging out with friends, moping around the house. However, surprisingly doing well with her studies, which is nice to see," Mum explains, "she's missed you a lot."
"I'm sure she has," I laugh it off, "Hannah misses her favourite television shows when they finish for the season, she doesn't miss me."
"Just because you don't hear it or see it, doesn't mean it's not there. We fail to recognise the importance of a person in front of us. The moment they're gone and things change, it's the moment we truly understand their weight in our lives."
"Well, maybe she did miss me then. I kind of missed, everyone." I enjoyed being free and having the opportunity to explore and understand a different lifestyle, but I'm ecstatic to be home in the comfort of my family and friends. Exploring the world is only worth it if you've got someone you care about to share the stories with. I miss everyone. cI�Avl9