Flight

I woke up and sprawled my body across the coolness of my sheets and gazed out the window and thought to myself. Today is the day. The day I start the rest of my new life in England. My suitcase is packed, and the cab driver is downstairs waiting for me. I am just a ball of nerves and excitement as the cab drives past all the memories I am leaving behind here in Texas. We drive past the park where I got my first kiss. It was raining that night and he was sloppy at it too, but I still I look back on that memory with great fondness. And there is the old music store where I first learned of Queen and how Freddie Mercury was like a music God. There goes that old burger joint my friends and I would go to after school were, we would laugh about how Mr. Gunston would always say “moreover” every other word when talking about literature. Although, thanks to him I decided to embark on this journey. He was the first person to compliment me on my writing and persuaded me to think about pursuing it as a career. I guess you could say I kind of owe him in a way.             My dear memories started fading away as the cab approached the airport. But as I grab my bags, I force myself to say one last goodbye to my old home. As the cab drove away, I stood there on the platform looking into the distance as the cars drive by and families say their last goodbyes to their loved ones. I just stood there breathing in the last of the sweet Texas air I will ever get. In my mind, I wave a silent goodbye to the home I loved and would forever cherish. Although I doubted that any place would ever compare to Texas, I still found myself hoping that England might be even better. Excitement flowing threw me, I check my bags in and head for my flight’s terminal. There are no more seats left except for one that was at the end of the bench and next to a peculiar man who has scrunched his coat up to himself, wearing dark sunglasses and a ballcap, as if trying to remain anonymous in a sea of people. He shuffles himself away from me as I uneasily take the seat next to him. Why is he squirming away from me, out of the two of us I’m the least threatening? For all, I know he is on the run from the law. Or perhaps he got himself in some trouble with a drug kingpin and is desperately trying to escape him. Why else would he be acting so unnerving? The more I sit next to him waiting to board the plane, the more my mind wanders.             After what seemed like hours the intercom announced that the flight was finally boarding. I hurriedly gathered my things and made my way to my seat. Almost instantly my nerves set in. Am I making the right decision? Is London where I am supposed to be? Just as I was about to launch myself into a full-blown panic, he sat down next to me. The strange, questionable man I sat next to in the terminal.             Why did he have to be the one to sit next to me. Am I not already on the brink of nervousness already? With him next to me all I am going to be able to think about is why is he acting so cautiously. As if knowing what I was thinking, he lifts his head up and begins to take off his hat and glasses and look at me.             To my surprise he was gorgeous. His hair was black as the night sky that curled to his shoulders. His eyes were of milk chocolate that could melt you with its intensity. His mouth was full and luscious and could make any woman yearn for him. His jaw, sharp like an arrow going straight to your heart. Everything about him made my body ache with lust and sorrow. The thoughts that came to my mind would make anyone blush, but I knew I needed to push them aside. For someone with such spectacularly good looks could and would never truly notice someone like me. Well, they would not see me the way I would fantasize they would. No, he would be with someone who looks like a supermodel, whereas I am only plain and ordinary. My only good attributes are my emerald green eyes and long, thick, and wavy black hair. Everything else about me is simple, but I have grown accustomed to it and know my place with men.             What am I thinking? I was just anxious about this guy ten seconds ago. What has happened? Just because he took off his “disguise” and shown off how unbelievably gorgeous he is doesn’t mean I am going to start drooling at the mouth. Nope, I refuse to let that happen. I am a strong independent woman who does not need a man! Okay so I hope I am.             Then suddenly he spoke. “Hello.” A thick Irish accent descended his lips.             One word, one small word and I have already begun to melt. Oh crap! He’s got me. Okay Perri stay cool, he’s just a guy. Hold on, why is he even talking to me in the first place?             “Hi?” I responded quizzically.             “I normally don’t talk to strangers on a plane, but we are going to be on this flight for the next twelve hours; I figure we could get a little more acquainted,” He said.             “Oh um… yeah sure,” I paused. “I guess it would get quite boring if we had no one to talk to for twelve hours straight.” We smiled at each other.             “So, if we are going to be acquainted for the next twelve hours, I should probably know your name,” I suggested hopefully.             “Dante, Dante Rainur,” he replied. “And yours?”             “Meadow Perribow.” I looked down and looked back up at him to see a peculiar look on his face.             “My parents were hippies back when they were teenagers, and to keep some of that spirit alive as adults, they gave me the weirdest hippy name they could think of,” I said, responding to the look he gave me. “But everyone calls me Perri.”             He smiled and looked down in my response. “I like the name it’s pretty, like you.” He smirked. I blushed and looked away with a hint of a smile hidden from him. I should not let him see me smile, or blush for that matter. He is only being polite for the flight. We were quiet for a few moments before he broke the silence. “So why are going to London?”             “I’m starting a new life there.” I said. My nerves beginning to stir all over again. Then it happened, my nervous tick, a spew of word vomit and rambling began.             “I’m a writer, and I’ve saved up enough money to last me a year in London to focus on my writing.” I took a breath.” But, if I don’t get a publishing in ten months I might have to start making decisions on whether or not I should stay or go back home to Texas. And I am really worried and excited and so many other emotions wrapped up in my body.” I paused, noticing what was happening. “But enough about me, what about you? Why were you scrunching yourself up like you didn’t want to be seen by anyone?” I asked.             He stayed silent for a few awkward moments before responding. “It’s a little complicated to explain.”             “Oh, so my suspicions were correct then.” I smiled slyly at him.             “Were they?” He looked at me curiously. “What were your suspicions?” he asked.             “You’re either running from the law, or, you’ve somehow miraculously narrowly escaped the clutches of a drug lord,” I laughed at him.             He laughed back, “Well you most certainly are a writer with an imagination like that.” He stopped to laugh. “But no, I’m afraid your suspicions are wrong on this one.”             “Oh, are they?” I smiled.” Then what is the truth, are you some famous actor trying to hide from paparazzi and screaming fan girls?” I joked.             “Actually.” He said hesitantly, pausing to lean towards me. “It’s something like that,” He whispered and smiled.             “Ha-ha, you’re very funny Mr. Rainur. If that’s true, then I’m actually a spy going to England on a super covert mission to get details on biochemical weapons that threaten the world.”             He laughed at me once again. “I don’t think you’re going to need to worry about going back to Texas with that imagination you have.” He paused and looked away. Before looking back at me he asked, “By the way, why London, why not Paris or Rome?”             “Simple, it is the most beautiful place in world.” I smiled at him. The rumbles of lust begin to form within my bones- all because he complimented me and asked me something no one has ever taken an interest in.  I need to get a grip. I must remind myself that we are only going to know each other for twelve hours. After the flight we will go our separate ways and never see each other again. He will forget about me and I will forget about him. But even still, I could make the most of these few hours I have with him. We talked and laughed the entire flight. Even when we were both on the brink of sleep, we stayed up to soak in each other’s conversation. I knew that as soon as this flight was over, he would go his way and I would go mine. So, I clung to his words like a kitten stuck in a tree holding on for life. I craved his voice like a starved wolf in the night. I had to embrace as much of him as I could so when we did part I could walk away as satisfied as possible.             We talked about everything and nothing. About how he rescued a little cocker spaniel he named Itsy from a bunch of teenage boys. Or how he got into a fight with a washing machine the first time he did his own laundry because he added a little too much soap. I told him about the time my friends and I did a senior prank at school and filled the cafeteria with frogs and toads. I even told him about the time I was grounded and tried sneaking out; only to be caught by my dad who instead of reprimanding me, took me to go get ice cream and made me swear not to tell my mom. Suddenly and unconsciously my mind started to wander off into a fantasy. A fantasy where, his soft and luscious lips were pressed against mine. One hand caressing my legs while the other passionately but gently gripping the nape of my neck. Then he slowly kisses my cheek, making his way down to my neck. My breath shallows, desperately hoping he will go further. His hand moves to my waste pulling me in closer to him. I’m so close to him now that I can feel every individual ridge of his muscular torso. The further he goes down my neck a longing begins to stir in my pants. A longing for his hand, his tongue, anything of his that would satisfy me.             “So, Ms. Perri how are you liking the flight so far?” He asked snapping me out of my wonderful daydream.             “Well, Mr. Rainur it has definitely not been boring, that is most assuredly.” I laughingly said. He smiled at me, pleased with my answer.             Oh God why did he have to smile at me. I may be sitting down but if I stand, my legs will give out. How is that possible? How is one smile from a man I barely know be able to turn my legs into jelly; and make my heart melt like ice. Melting in my seat, I try to compose myself.             “And you Rainur, how are you liking the flight?”             “It’s surprising.” He answered.             “Oh- and how is it surprising?” I questioned with a sneaky smile.             With a sly smirk on his face he says, “I didn’t think I would come across someone so interesting.”             “Mr. Rainur, I’m really not that interesting.” I chuckled.             “And what makes you say that?” he asked.             “Because I’m just not; the only thing interesting about me is my innate ability to trip over myself.” We both laughed. “What unique and embarrassing abilities do you have Mr. Rainur?” I asked.             “I have none Ms. Perribow, because, you see I’m perfect,” he teased me.             “of course, you are Mr. Rainur,” I sarcastically smirked. For a moment we just stared into each other’s eyes, smiling at one another. And for that moment my heart stopped- like a jolt of electricity ran through my body. Maybe he feels it too. Maybe he feels the same thing I do. Maybe he doesn’t want these moments to end either. No, stop thinking like that; I tell myself. Twelve hours- that is all you get Doe. Oh, but how I wish it were more than twelve hours. I want it to be so much more. I want it to be days, weeks, months, even years. The way he looks at me as if I am truly there. Not some random person you walk by in a crowd. I do not think anyone has looked at me like that before and I like it. The way he speaks to me as if to reassure me that I do matter and that I matter to him. The way he listens to me is as if he is holding on to every word I say like it is the last thing he will ever hear. But, then again; maybe it is all in my head.             Before we could speak again, a voice comes on over the intercom.             “Ladies and Gentlemen this is your pilot speaking. We are set to land in just a few moments. I hope you enjoyed your flight and will fly with us again.” The pilot announced.             And just like that, I was gutted. The pilot has just struck me with the back of his hand. He has punched me threw the gut and pulled out my insides and left me for dead.  He has punched the very soul within me out of existence.             I knew this was coming, so why does it hurt so much? I told myself just twelve hours- it can only be twelve hours. Why do I keep reaching for the stars when I know I cannot fly? Why does my body ache for something it has never had? Why does my very essence yearn for him?             The dreaded inevitable has come. The plane is landing and in just a few moments I will be taking my steps away from him. Bracing myself, I gather my things trying to avoid his gaze. I cannot look at him right now. If I look at him than tears might start falling down my face and I cannot have that. It sounds ridiculous I know, but within those twelve hours of being- just next to him felt like a lifetime. Now we can say our goodbyes and just walk away and act as if we have never met. We were strangers once and we can be strangers again.             Surprisingly, we walked down to baggage claim together giggling and making sly comments of the people around us. The entire time I was hoping he would hold my hand. Can he not give me some sort of sign that I am not alone in how I feel? Can he not see that I desperately want him? Please Dante give me something, anything! I screamed to myself.             Maybe I should be the one to make the move. This is the twenty-first century after all. Women do not need a man to make the first move. I am fully capable of doing it. I have never needed a man to do anything, so, why should this be any different? Just when I was about to make my move something stopped me. I stopped me. Doe, STOP, what if he doesn’t feel the same and you have just made a complete and total fool of yourself. Ugh, why do these things have to be so complicated? Why can’t they be simple? Like oh you like me cool I like you too, let’s go get drinks. See how simple, uncomplicated, and not embarrassing that was? That is why I am a writer. Not because I am good at it but because I am in control. I get to decide the outcome. I get to decide if the girl gets the guy. How she gets the guy. I get to make the most impossible scenarios and make them possible. It’s my way of putting a little magic out in the universe. But- this is not my book. I am not writing the outcome. I don’t get the guy. No, I let the guy go and go on regretting it for the rest of my days. We reach baggage claim and then just stand there in silence. And let me just say the silence is killing me. It just made everything so awkward. Something that our time together has never been. God, why doesn’t he just say something? Come on Dante say something, anything… at this point. Okay t+hat’s it if he’s not going to then I will! I start to open my mouth to speak when my luggage comes down the converter belt. Damnit.  I grab my luggage and for just a split second I hold my breath wishing he would ask me to stay with him for just a little bit longer. But to no avail, he just smiles at me and says, “Well Ms. Perribow, thank you for a very interesting flight.” I held out my hand to him to shake and said, “And the same to you Mr. Rainur.” With that I walked away, one single tear streaming down my face. The only tear I aloud myself.