Seventeen and Invincible

The airport was busy, full of all the hustle and bustle of travel. Men in suits, brief cases held under their arms, one suitcase being pulled behind them, rushed by. Women with designer purses, red lipstick, high-waisted pencil skirts and cell phones clutched to their ears, clicked their heels across the cold tile in the air conditioned building. Older couples were on benches, hands clasped together, smiling at nothing. College kids, leaving for or returning from exchange programs, carried duffel bags on their shoulders and pulled overstuffed suitcases behind them. Some wore tie-dye and others were dressed in fashionable clothing like they were models. Maybe they were, after all, how would I know?

I stood near the entrance, not knowing what to do. I think fear was apparent in my eyes and my facial expressions. I looked from left to right, up and down trying to figure out where exactly I was supposed to go.

Did people look at me strange? I wondered. Was I grouped in with the departing college students? I didn’t look much like a businesswoman. If you asked me, I didn’t look like much of anything. I was seventeen—barely. I was standing by myself in an airport full of strangers. My hair was straightened and tossed over my right shoulder. My single suitcase was being dragged behind me, held tightly in my left hand. I felt inadequate and lonely in my ripped skinny jeans, brown high heeled boots and white and blue striped shirt. I wanted to wrap myself in Garrett’s arms, or a sweatshirt two sizes too big. I wanted to fight back the tears forming in my eyes, clinging to the waterproof mascara on my lashes.

I stomped my foot once frustratedly, digging my heel into the tile. Molly and Greg had left two days ago, claiming they were going home to set up. Though I knew they probably wouldn’t do anything to make it feel like a happy home, a part of me still held onto hope that, by some miracle, being in their home country would make them better. I thought that maybe being back in Germany, being with their family, maybe, just maybe, they’d finally treat me like a person. Maybe I’d finally get to meet my grandparents, or my cousins. Maybe something would finally feel right in Germany.

I lifted my wrist, glancing quickly at my watch, noting that I should probably check in, or whatever it is you’re supposed to do in an airport. When I turned, I found some college girl running toward a boy with open arms, jumping onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist and burying her face in the crook of his neck. He smiled, spinning her around and setting her on the ground. His hand brushed against her cheek and pushed the hair out of her face, while he moved closer, tilting his head to the side slightly, pressing his lips to hers. I turned away, not just because it was rude to stare, but because of this horrible feeling rippling through my stomach. I wanted to cry, I wanted to throw up, I wanted to run. I wanted to run far away from this airport. I wanted to run far away from Tempe and into Garrett’s arms, wherever he was now.

I swallowed hard and blinked away the tears, telling myself that crying was a sign of weakness and none of these strangers could see me vulnerable. I pushed away the ideas that maybe those two teenagers had what Garrett and I could have if I stayed. His smile found its way into my thoughts. I pushed it away, but the image of a brilliant smile wouldn’t leave my mind. The image held everything that was important to me. Garrett meant everything to me. Whenever I was with him, there were so many words on the tip of my tongue that I couldn’t vocalize; so many emotions that I couldn’t even verbalize. In that image in my mind I had twisted it to make it seem like he wanted to tell me the same things. In my mind he loved me too.

I snapped out of it when the woman at the counter cleared her throat. I smiled weakly and handed her my ticket. She smiled in reply and once our exchange was finished, I walked away, plopping down on an uncomfortable metal bench that all of the elderly couples made seem so comfortable.

My face was buried in my hands. I didn’t care about smudging the unsmudgable make-up. I didn’t care about my eyes turning red or my pulse beating like a drum in the back of my mind. I just cared about keeping the tears at bay.

My phone rang and I seriously considered ignoring it. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. I was in the mood to go home and unpack my bags. I wanted to go back to my room and curl up with a good book, my iPod, a sweatshirt and Garrett. I wanted to wake up and actually embrace the sunlight beaming through my windows. I wanted to wake up and have this all be a nightmare; a huge joke that I could laugh about.

“Hello?” I answered timidly.

“Where are you?” I sighed, relaxing instantly as the sound of his voice reached my ear drums.

“A-at the airport,” I whispered. “I’m waiting for my flight to start boarding.” I sighed, playing with a loose tread from my jeans. I waited for him to respond, playing with the hole in the knee of the pants, stopping to push my suddenly more brown than red hair out of my face. Maybe the less depressed I was the more shine and life it had. Maybe the dark color was symbolic of my depression.

“Turn around,” I heard him mumble. I rolled my eyes, disobeying him because I didn’t want to see the happy people on the bench across from mine.

“Why?” I paused, and looked up at the large clock on the wall. “And why do you sound all muffled and like you have a pillow over your head?” I heard a loud cough and pulled the phone away from my ear. “That was really weird, you just coughed and it sounded like it was here too.”

“Really? You don’t say?” he mused, urging me to turn around. “Just do it,” he added. I sighed, turning my head to lock eyes with the most amazing blue irises I’d ever seen.

“Garrett…” I stated quietly, out of breath and in amazement.

“Now aren’t you glad you turned around?” he questioned with a small laugh. “Come on, aren’t you happy to see me?” I nodded, no expression having formed on my face. I threw my arms around his neck and held on tight, a smile finally breaking out across my features.

“Why? But how? How did you get here? Why aren’t you on tour? What…?” He laughed and placed his arms on my shoulders, forcing my arms away from his neck.

“You know, we’re in this place called an airport. People from all over the country, all over the world, travel through here.” He smiled a dopey, goofy smiled and I rolled my eyes.

“I’m not ‘special,’ Garrett. I get that. I mean, just how? How did you leave?” I smiled brighter and could feel butterflies form and flutter in my stomach.

“We had a day off. I wanted to say good-bye. I wanted to be the one to have to watch you go; to let you be selfish for just a little while.” He smiled and my smile faltered. I looked down at the floor and away from him. “What’s wrong?”

“We have to say good-bye again?” I gulped. I could feel the tears prick the corners of my eyes again, and I could feel my stomach acid cook the stupid little butterflies alive. I could feel bile forcing its way up my esophagus. “No, Garrett. I can’t do it. You have to leave and I have to pretend you never showed up.” I took a step away, closing my eyes, putting my hands out in front of me to keep him from getting too close.

His hand cupped my cheek and his body pressed against my hands. “It isn’t good-bye. We’ll see each other again soon. Maybe not as soon as we’d like, but you lived seven years before you met me, you can go a half a year without me.” I shook my head because I honestly didn’t think I could. “I’ll come visit you when we have a break. Okay?” I shook my head, and felt him press his forehead to mine. “You’ll be okay.” I sighed and shook my head. “Yes you will.”

“How can you say that, Garrett? How can you tell me that I’ll be okay when you have no clue? How can you tell me that everything will be just fine when everything is falling apart?” He shrugged and kissed my cheek. “How? How can you do it? How can you be so sure?”

His lips brushed against mine and I brought my hands to his face. One hand rested on each of his cheeks and I could feel a little bit of stubble where he’d missed shaving. The faint calluses on my fingers from my horrible attempts at learning guitar traced against his skin. I didn’t want him to pull away. I didn’t want to lose him.

When his lips started to move away from mine I pulled him back forcefully, pulling him into another kiss. “Don’t stop. Don’t do that to me,” I sighed, stopping for a second to inhale. He kissed me again slowly, his hands resting on my hips. I didn’t want this to end.

“Ani,” he whispered, “Ani, come on,” he sighed, finally pulling me away from him. “Ani, we’re in public, we have to stop.” I shook my head and he pulled me into a hug.

“Garrett, no,” I whispered. He rubbed my back and soothed me until they announced that my flight was boarding.

“Shh,” he cooed, stepping back, and kissing my forehead. “I’ll see you soon, alright? I’ll be waiting right here for you when you get back.” I nodded slowly and stood on my tip toes to steal one last kiss from the boy with whom everything was supposed to be platonic. It was so far from platonic, for me anyway, that it wasn’t even a joke anymore.

“I’ll miss you,” I whispered.

“I know. I’ll miss you too. But I’ll be here, alright? I’ll be in Arizona when you come back. I will be waiting for you. I will call. I will email and I’ll write you letters on paper. I won’t forget you, but do your best to forget me.” I shook my head vehemently while he nodded, wiping away the few tears that had escaped and had begun to slide down my cheeks.

“I won’t forget you, Garrett. You’re the best friend I have.” He nodded slowly.

“I know, but try. For me.” I nodded, hearing the final boarding call for my flight. “You’ve gotta go.” I nodded again, and he kissed my forehead, then my lips, and spun me around, pushing me in the direction of the gate.

“Goodbye,” I whispered, turning around to face him one last time before I walked through the gate, my single bag behind me. He nodded and stood in the same spot staring at his shoes.

I walked onto the plane and found my seat, preparing for and eighteen hour flight to hell.