Before and After - Chapter 3

Plane Home

May the Irish hills caress you.
May her lakes and rivers bless you.
May the luck of the Irish enfold you.
May the blessings of Saint Patrick behold you.

Compared to the farm where I had spent the past two months, the airport in Shannon was a zoo. I felt like I could hardly breathe as heavy-set Irish women and broad-shouldered Irish men politely shoved me out of their way.

I focused on the board which displayed the flight times. Shannon to New York – 10:25 a.m. I began searching for a clock, and found a simple one hanging on the wall. It was black-rimmed, and had a white, glossy background. 9:30. I sighed, deeply.

I trudged over to a black leather chair near a window. Collapsing into the seat, I dropped my luggage underneath the chair. I took my red knock-off Prada purse, and carefully placed it between my blue hiking sneakers. My jeans were dirty, and I began fingering a hole in my pants. I was trying not to think.

All around me people were hurrying back and forth, hugging and touching each other, and pulling large black luggage pieces behind them. I tried focusing on voices and words from the people around me.

“Elle et fatigue, non?” asked a tall, lanky woman of a man whom I assumed was her husband. She nodded her head towards a little blond-haired girl who was lying asleep on her mother’s lap. I searched the little girl’s peaceful face for some sign of life. She was breathing gently, and I watched her chest rise and fall. She had a soft, Irish face. I could tell by the way her cheeks were formed. I don’t know how I always know an Irish face, but I do.

My blue rain jacket felt incredibly hot, and I tore it off of my body, almost violently. I was suddenly very jealous of the little girl who could sleep so peacefully. Why must I be so alone here? I though. I was tired, too. My last night of sleep in Ireland had been a restless one. I tucked my jacket behind my head and awkwardly positioned my body on the leather chair so I could fall asleep.

As soon as I closed my eyes I saw him. He was so tall, and I felt tiny as I stared at his feet. I was afraid to look into his eyes. Afraid of what he would do. I could hear the people drinking in the background. He was powerful. I could tell by his arms. He works on the farm. His jeans were worn and dirty, and his construction boots were covered in mud. I started raising my eyes towards his waist.

My eyes shot open. I sat up quickly and tried to collect myself. I took a quick count of the people around me. No, he wasn’t here. I looked for the clock again. 10:12 am. The airplane would probably start boarding soon. I sat up straight and checked to make sure all my luggage was still there. It was as I had left it. I straightened my shirt, which had gone a little lopsided while napping.

A woman carrying breakfast foods and coffee wandered around the aisles, offering the sustenance to travelers. She stepped into my section, and asked if anyone wanted anything to eat or drink. I slipped my right hand into my jean pocket and pulled out a few euros. I awkwardly stood up and dropped the change into her container. She handed a hearty slice of coffee cake on a napkin, and a small cup with coffee. I mumbled a “thanks,” which she gladly accepted. She smiled down at me and started asking me where I was going and where I was from. I didn’t answer her and instead ate my food. She looked hurt as she walked away. I wanted to feel bad, but I didn’t feel anything.

I munched on the cake, holding the napkin inches from my mouth. I knew it tasted good, even though my ability to actually taste it was missing. I could tell by the way the brown sugar melted in my mouth that on a normal day, I would be happy to eat it. But today was not a normal day. “Flight 608 for New York – 10:25 am,” said a voice over the speaker system. “Report to Gate 3 for immediate boarding, all seats.”

I shoved the rest of the coffee cake into my mouth, crumpled up the napkin, and stuffed it in my pocket as I put on my coat again. I grabbed my small luggage bag and my purse and lumbered off towards Gate 3.

As soon as I was on the plane, I stashed my belongings in those overhead compartments and took my seat by the window. I buckled my seat belt and laid my head against the window, promptly falling asleep again.

His waist was wide. I hate him, I thought. He seemed to be commanding me to do something. I don’t know what. My arms were limp at my side, and my feet were the same. It felt like I had stepped in wet cement and was slowly sinking. He grew taller then, suddenly. His waist rose feet above me. I was still afraid to look at his face, to look into his eyes. What would I find there? My eyes moved upwards.

“Young miss, young miss,” and I awoke to the air hostess’s gently voice and the gentle tapping of my neighbor. “Can you just move that blanket there so I can see your safety belt?” she asked. She had bright orange hair and crisp green eyes. Her cheeks were puffy and red, and her hand that tapped me was adorned with a diamond ring.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” I said, and showed her the belt. “Cheers,” she replied and moved on to the next row.

I took a moment now to observe my neighbor. He was a man, first of all. I felt anxious and quickly rearranged my blanket over my lap. He was skinny, with dark brown hair and a sharply pointed nose. I turned my face towards the window and tried to slip into the dream world again, but I found it impossible.

“Well, you’re quite a pretty young lass to be traveling all by yourself there, what?” he suddenly said, his face staring at the back of my head. I shifted in my plane seat and lifted my eyes to his face.

“Not at all,” I replied, pulling out the safety information, so I would look busy. I began reading the directions attentively.

“Ah,” he laughed, “I wouldn’t waste your time with such nonsense. Nothing’s going to happen to this good ole Air Lingus plane,” he added, tapping the seat in front of him.

I smiled thinly, but didn’t reply. I wanted him to stop talking to me. I didn’t know what to do or say to make this happen. I considered saying, ‘Sir, please do not talk to be today. If your kind offends me I may just kill you all,’ but decided against it. I was afraid of what he could be capable.

Instead I folded my jacket up and snuggled against the window and shut my eyes tightly. I could hear him behind me joking with some other traveler who didn’t give him the cold shoulder. Ignoring their laughing, I pretended to fall asleep. Eventually, I did.

His chest is expansive and large. Suddenly, the blackness which surrounds me fills with the sound of his beating heart. The beating is not human, though. It is too quick. Suddenly his hand flutters at his side, and I scream.

I jumped in my seat, and was surprised to find the plane over land. I took a look at my surroundings. My neighbor has fallen asleep as well, with a book in his lap, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

I began to rearrange my clothes when the pilot comes on over the radio, announcing that we’ll be landing at JFK International Airport in 15 minutes. Something in me becomes frightened. Will they know? I ask myself. I was torn inside. Part of me wanted to shout out into the airplane what had happened and the rest of me wanted to forget. I wanted to forget terribly. If mom and dad knew, how could I forget?

I collected my things together, and reassured myself that my passport was secure in my inner-coat pocket. I tapped my pockets to make sure I knew what was there, and then I folded the airport blanket and placed it in the seat-pouch. I peered out the window looking at New York below. I wanted so badly to be home then. To be safe in my room, away from these things I knew. I searched the horizon.

“Did you have a nice nap?” I turned and the sharp-nosed man was smiling at me. He stretched his arms in the air and leaned back in his seat. I was suddenly extremely aware of his hands, which scared me.

“Indeed,” was all I said, before nervously folding my hands in my lap and watching the clouds shift over the city. We were coming in for a landing, now.

There was a jolt, and I began shifting my jaw to keep from hurting my ears. I yawned, I hummed, I chewed absent-mindedly. Still, I felt the ear-pain rise dramatically as we descended. A tear ran down my cheek.

After a few minutes of screaming children’s yells, gentle parent’s soothing, and my own adrenaline rush, the plane touched down on the pavement. We bounced a few times, my elbow slamming the armrest as we did so. I wanted off this abominable technological device. I wanted the fields again.

We sat awkwardly for a few moments before grabbing our things. I moved quickly. My urge to see Mom and Dad was immense. I wanted more than anything to have them know and understand what had happened. They needed to know! I bolted off the plane into the air tunnel, and finally into the airport terminal.

Ah, what had happened the old days when as soon as you were off a plane there were your loved ones, waiting. Now, I had an infernal number of checkpoints before I could hold them close. I stopped as I reached a security checkpoint and customs, but due to my small luggage and European Union passport, was moved through quickly. I shoved my slip on hiking sneakers into the tray, along with my purse and luggage, and bounced through the metal detector. I waited behind a man with an infant patiently, as he collected his things. I pulled out my stuff and found a seat by the door. My shoes on my feet and my luggage in hand, I headed out to meet my parents.

I found them by the luggage terminal. I saw them first, as I came down the escalator. Mom was sitting in a blue-leather chair by the window. Her hair seemed browner than before, its fierce orange color softened by her years. She seemed heavier, too, and I imagined that she was in a great deal of pain from her hip. My Dad was sitting next to her, a collection of notebooks in hand. No doubt he was writing something, either for his blog or for his novel. They were so strange together; Mom limping and chubby, approximately 5’2, next to Dad who towered at 6’2 and stood straight and lean. I ran towards them, ready to tell them everything.

They saw me and pointed. Mom smiled, and Dad gave me one of his smirks. I ran to Mom first, and hugged her before turning to my father. The books in his hand made it impossible to hug him, but he mumbled, “Hey! Who are you?” with his look of complete seriousness, his eyes almost angry.

I laughed, “Oh it is so wonderful to see you!” I began feeling anxious. Could they tell?

“How is everything here?” I asked, my arms almost outstretched for love.

“Fine, fine,” said Mom and Dad in unison, standing and walking towards the door. Dad picked up my luggage bag. “Nothing’s changed here.”

I stood awkwardly there for a moment as they walked towards the door. I could feel a head-ache and unwept tears forming. I leaned down to pick up my stuff and walked defeated after them. I knew they were wrong. I knew what they didn’t.

“Everything’s changed,” I mumbled, and disappeared out the sliding automatic doors.