Status: Active, work on it every now and then.
The Simplest Thing in the World
Two
The next morning Sean and I sat at a booth at Denny’s, his treat.
“Have you said goodbye to everyone yet?”
I stabbed a piece of egg, “Sort of. I called Marcus and Beck last night.”
“What about Zoey?”
His eyes were sad yet understanding.
“We said goodbye a couple of days ago. I know the guys deserve more than a phone call, but I can only say goodbye so many times without turning into a sobbing mess.”
He stared at my face a second too long, and I became instantly self-conscious.
“What are you looking at?” I asked as my hand reached for my jawline. He moved it away.
“Stop that. I wasn't staring at the scar. There’s no reason to cover it up either. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
“It’s ugly,” I mumbled.
“No, it’s not. I know you see it that way now, but that scar is a part of you, a part of your story. It’s a reminder of your parents.”
I kept quiet. I didn't see it as beautiful at all or special, it was a curse. A disgusting reminder of the crash that took my family, a crash I could have prevented…
Sean drove me to the airport, holding my hand the whole way, neither one of us wanting to let go. And we didn't, not until we had to. My aunt and uncle met us there with my luggage on a little cart. I wasn't too surprised that my cousins hadn't come. I don’t think they were sad to see me leave. I was only a temporary nuisance in their home. In fact they were probably having a nice celebratory party right now in my honor. We all sat silently by my gate. My aunt was popping her gum while eyeing the vendors hungrily, and my uncle read a paper that was clearly more than a couple weeks old, but he didn't seem to mind as long as it kept him from having to make small talk. Sean and I weren't talking either. We were off in our own little world, watching people as they passed. Too soon, the intercom began to boom.
“Ladies and gentleman, flight 609 – Chicago to London is now boarding.”
My aunt couldn't stand up fast enough, grabbing my carry on bag.
“Alright, kiddo. Now, be good for your grandparents.”
She gave me a swift hug and shuffled me over to her husband, who shook my hand and told me to “be good.”
Sean waited patiently to get me back because we all knew he was the only one who cared that I was leaving. He held out his arms, and I stepped into them. I tried my best to memorize the feel of this. He squeezed me tight, then planted a soft kiss on my lips.
“We’ll e-mail and call, okay? I love you. I love you so much,” he kissed me again. “Have a safe flight, baby.”
He let me go, and I walked toward the gate, handed the lady my ticket, and glanced back once more. The tears stung my eyes. They all stood there, staring back at me. Sean raised his hand in a small gesture of goodbye, and with that I left behind everything I’d ever known.
I had only been on a plane once before. I was eleven and my parents had taken me to California. We visited with my father’s brother and also went to the Disney park. It was my fondest memory, and now this ride was taking me away from my worst. The plan had been that “in the unfortunate even of the passing of Mr. and Mrs. Carter Kay that their daughter (me), Celia Kay, would be put in custody of her grandparents Harold and Ruth Kay.” Well, unfortunately for me Harold and Ruth Kay lived in merry ‘ol England. The trip was long, and quite lonely. He only bit of luck I seemed to have on the flight was snatching up the window seat. Of course as luck would have it, a mother and rambunctious son sat down beside me. The woman tried relentlessly to calm the boy down, but he appeared to be having a ball destroying a SkyMall magazine. Once the boy began dozing off, the mother felt obligated to engage me in conversation.
“Where are you heading, dear?”
She was nice enough, but I wasn't exactly in the mood to exchange pleasantries.
“My parents just died.”
That shut her up.
Eight hours later my plane landed. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and glanced out the little, oval window and saw darkness. Glancing at my watch, I estimate the time to be roughly two AM.
“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Heathrow Airport.”
After grabbing my things and exiting the plane, I find my way to immigration lines.
“Hello, miss,” said the worker. “I’ll need to see your information. Passport, visa…those sort of things. Thank you, miss.”
The lady glanced over my things before asking, “What is the purpose of your stay? Business or pleasure?”
Neither, I thought to myself.
“I…um…I’m going to live with my grandparents?”
She nodded, stamped a few papers, and handed me back my documents.
“Welcome to London, Miss Kay. Enjoy your stay.”
The airport seemed gigantic, although it wasn't much larger than O’Hare. Perhaps the magnanimous feel came simply from the fact that I was in a foreign land. Alone. As in by myself.
“Watch it, love,” said a passing man as he nearly knocked me over.
The baggage claim wad devoid of most activity. A few other passengers from my flight stood around, hoping their bags would magically appear on the circling conveyor belt. A moment of panic filled me up as I realized the carousel was empty, not even my things were there. An airport employee stood off to the side, supervising the minute crowd.
“Excuse me, sir?”
He looked down at me. His name tag dubbed him Michael. I looked at the empty carousel, and then back to Michael.
“Are all of the suitcases gone? For the 609 flight?”
Recognition animated his features, “You mean the flight from Chicago?” I nodded. “If they aren't over there, then they've probably been lost.”
He gestured to a small, roped off section in the corner of the room. I saw my bags immediately and breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis adverted. After flinging my backpack on and grabbing my lone suitcase, I met up with Michael again.
“Do you know how to get to Manor Inn?” I asked, reading the name from my phone. With a kind smile, he pointed me in the right direction.
Thirty-five minutes later, I flopped down on the most uncomfortable bed I have ever slept on. If I could say one good thing about my aunt and uncle it would be that they shelled out the dough for my plane ticket and a night at a small motel for the night. Although, they probably only paid for it because they wanted to get rid of me so badly. Grandfather Kay was to pick me up from the Manor Inn at ten AM. The room was small, but suitable for one occupant. Picking up my phone, I saw a text message from Sean: Call me when you land. Love you <3.
“Hello?”
I loved hearing his voice, even if he was a whole ocean away.
“HI. It’s me. I’m here.”
“Hey, baby. How was the flight?”
I sighed, laying back on the bed, “I slept through most of it.”
“What time is it there?”
“Three in the morning.” I answered.
“Wow, it’s only eight here. I bet you won’t sleep very well tonight then, will you?”
I pushed the covers of the bed back and wiggled under them, “Probably not, but I should still try, or else tomorrow will be extremely long.”
Sean cleared his voice, “Alright, C. I’ll let you go then. Call me tomorrow…I mean, later today? You know what I mean.”
“Okay,” I chuckled. “I love you, Sean.”
“I love you too, Celia.”
A day full of stress, goodbyes, traveling, and sadness can take a lot out of a person. So, as I laid in the lumpy bed, it took nearly no time at all for the slumber to drag me under.
“Have you said goodbye to everyone yet?”
I stabbed a piece of egg, “Sort of. I called Marcus and Beck last night.”
“What about Zoey?”
His eyes were sad yet understanding.
“We said goodbye a couple of days ago. I know the guys deserve more than a phone call, but I can only say goodbye so many times without turning into a sobbing mess.”
He stared at my face a second too long, and I became instantly self-conscious.
“What are you looking at?” I asked as my hand reached for my jawline. He moved it away.
“Stop that. I wasn't staring at the scar. There’s no reason to cover it up either. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
“It’s ugly,” I mumbled.
“No, it’s not. I know you see it that way now, but that scar is a part of you, a part of your story. It’s a reminder of your parents.”
I kept quiet. I didn't see it as beautiful at all or special, it was a curse. A disgusting reminder of the crash that took my family, a crash I could have prevented…
***
Sean drove me to the airport, holding my hand the whole way, neither one of us wanting to let go. And we didn't, not until we had to. My aunt and uncle met us there with my luggage on a little cart. I wasn't too surprised that my cousins hadn't come. I don’t think they were sad to see me leave. I was only a temporary nuisance in their home. In fact they were probably having a nice celebratory party right now in my honor. We all sat silently by my gate. My aunt was popping her gum while eyeing the vendors hungrily, and my uncle read a paper that was clearly more than a couple weeks old, but he didn't seem to mind as long as it kept him from having to make small talk. Sean and I weren't talking either. We were off in our own little world, watching people as they passed. Too soon, the intercom began to boom.
“Ladies and gentleman, flight 609 – Chicago to London is now boarding.”
My aunt couldn't stand up fast enough, grabbing my carry on bag.
“Alright, kiddo. Now, be good for your grandparents.”
She gave me a swift hug and shuffled me over to her husband, who shook my hand and told me to “be good.”
Sean waited patiently to get me back because we all knew he was the only one who cared that I was leaving. He held out his arms, and I stepped into them. I tried my best to memorize the feel of this. He squeezed me tight, then planted a soft kiss on my lips.
“We’ll e-mail and call, okay? I love you. I love you so much,” he kissed me again. “Have a safe flight, baby.”
He let me go, and I walked toward the gate, handed the lady my ticket, and glanced back once more. The tears stung my eyes. They all stood there, staring back at me. Sean raised his hand in a small gesture of goodbye, and with that I left behind everything I’d ever known.
***
I had only been on a plane once before. I was eleven and my parents had taken me to California. We visited with my father’s brother and also went to the Disney park. It was my fondest memory, and now this ride was taking me away from my worst. The plan had been that “in the unfortunate even of the passing of Mr. and Mrs. Carter Kay that their daughter (me), Celia Kay, would be put in custody of her grandparents Harold and Ruth Kay.” Well, unfortunately for me Harold and Ruth Kay lived in merry ‘ol England. The trip was long, and quite lonely. He only bit of luck I seemed to have on the flight was snatching up the window seat. Of course as luck would have it, a mother and rambunctious son sat down beside me. The woman tried relentlessly to calm the boy down, but he appeared to be having a ball destroying a SkyMall magazine. Once the boy began dozing off, the mother felt obligated to engage me in conversation.
“Where are you heading, dear?”
She was nice enough, but I wasn't exactly in the mood to exchange pleasantries.
“My parents just died.”
That shut her up.
***
Eight hours later my plane landed. I wiped the sleep from my eyes and glanced out the little, oval window and saw darkness. Glancing at my watch, I estimate the time to be roughly two AM.
“Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Heathrow Airport.”
After grabbing my things and exiting the plane, I find my way to immigration lines.
“Hello, miss,” said the worker. “I’ll need to see your information. Passport, visa…those sort of things. Thank you, miss.”
The lady glanced over my things before asking, “What is the purpose of your stay? Business or pleasure?”
Neither, I thought to myself.
“I…um…I’m going to live with my grandparents?”
She nodded, stamped a few papers, and handed me back my documents.
“Welcome to London, Miss Kay. Enjoy your stay.”
The airport seemed gigantic, although it wasn't much larger than O’Hare. Perhaps the magnanimous feel came simply from the fact that I was in a foreign land. Alone. As in by myself.
“Watch it, love,” said a passing man as he nearly knocked me over.
The baggage claim wad devoid of most activity. A few other passengers from my flight stood around, hoping their bags would magically appear on the circling conveyor belt. A moment of panic filled me up as I realized the carousel was empty, not even my things were there. An airport employee stood off to the side, supervising the minute crowd.
“Excuse me, sir?”
He looked down at me. His name tag dubbed him Michael. I looked at the empty carousel, and then back to Michael.
“Are all of the suitcases gone? For the 609 flight?”
Recognition animated his features, “You mean the flight from Chicago?” I nodded. “If they aren't over there, then they've probably been lost.”
He gestured to a small, roped off section in the corner of the room. I saw my bags immediately and breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis adverted. After flinging my backpack on and grabbing my lone suitcase, I met up with Michael again.
“Do you know how to get to Manor Inn?” I asked, reading the name from my phone. With a kind smile, he pointed me in the right direction.
***
Thirty-five minutes later, I flopped down on the most uncomfortable bed I have ever slept on. If I could say one good thing about my aunt and uncle it would be that they shelled out the dough for my plane ticket and a night at a small motel for the night. Although, they probably only paid for it because they wanted to get rid of me so badly. Grandfather Kay was to pick me up from the Manor Inn at ten AM. The room was small, but suitable for one occupant. Picking up my phone, I saw a text message from Sean: Call me when you land. Love you <3.
“Hello?”
I loved hearing his voice, even if he was a whole ocean away.
“HI. It’s me. I’m here.”
“Hey, baby. How was the flight?”
I sighed, laying back on the bed, “I slept through most of it.”
“What time is it there?”
“Three in the morning.” I answered.
“Wow, it’s only eight here. I bet you won’t sleep very well tonight then, will you?”
I pushed the covers of the bed back and wiggled under them, “Probably not, but I should still try, or else tomorrow will be extremely long.”
Sean cleared his voice, “Alright, C. I’ll let you go then. Call me tomorrow…I mean, later today? You know what I mean.”
“Okay,” I chuckled. “I love you, Sean.”
“I love you too, Celia.”
A day full of stress, goodbyes, traveling, and sadness can take a lot out of a person. So, as I laid in the lumpy bed, it took nearly no time at all for the slumber to drag me under.