Mom was none too happy that Dad was okay with me going to Hawaii, but if she objected, she didn't say otherwise after Dad and I talked in my bedroom.
Dylan and Samantha were harder to win over.
“You’re going to leave me with her?” Dylan asked me, jutting a thumb toward his girlfriend. He sounded like he was trying to joke, but it felt like there was a lot of truth to his words. He didn't want me to go.
If I were honest, I didn't want to go either.
Which was precisely why I had to go.
“You could have come too, you know. I’m sure they take losers.” I use his same playful tone. And just like him, there is a lot of truth to my words as well. I wanted him to come. I wanted him to come out to Hawaii, profess that he had a huge crush on me as well, and we would live happily ever after.
But life is nothing like the movies, right?
“We’re going to miss you so much,” Samantha said, giving me a hug. “And you,” she said, batting at Dylan's arm, “shouldn't be so afraid to be alone with your girlfriend.”
Dylan gave me a “help-me” look. I laughed, and that was the end of our conversation.
Hopefully, that wasn't the end of our friendship. Dylan and Samantha would be going to the local college, together, and I was going to be thousands of miles away. I'd be fooling myself if I believed that most friendships could survive that distance.
This is such a huge step for me to take by myself.
And I’m admittedly a little scared.
“You don’t look okay,” I say, looking at my father. The sweat has now started dripping down his brow, and he keeps looking out the window, like he's expecting something bad to happen.
He glances back at me, tries to smile, before simply nodding. “I just don't feel well,” he says. “I think that burrito earlier is doing me in.”
Before we left, Dad and I had eaten at the food court at the airport. I had a burrito as well, but it’s not making me anywhere near as sick as it is doing to Dad.
I frown at him, but I don't say anything more.
Instead, I looked down at my hands in my lap. I feel oddly empty.
I take out my phone and swipe through the different pictures that the university had sent me to hype me up for this big move that I'm making. Every picture is filled with sunlight, sandy beaches, and smiling students all doing legal and safe things -- which I’m sure the university approves.
But they look like they're having fun, like they don't have a care in the world.
Hopefully, that will be me in a few weeks. Hell, that could be me in a few hours once we land in paradise.
“Pardon the interruption,” the flight attendant says over the intercom. “We will now begin boarding for flight 1486 to Honolulu, Hawaii. All passengers please make your way to the gate. We will begin by boarding first class.”
This is it. Moments before we head out.
I lick my lips and look at Dad. “Looks like we’re going.”
He sighs and gives me a long nod before standing up. He shoulders my carry-on and grabs the other three bags.
“Do you need help with that?” I ask, reaching for the straps.
He shakes his head and readjusts the bag. “No, I've got this.”
I think he’s looking for an excuse to keep his hands occupied.
We join the other passengers that are heading toward the gates where a line has already formed. I can see the flight attendant leading through the first-class passengers, and wistfully, I wish we were in first class. A five-hour flight in luxury would be much better than a five-hour flight in coach.
At least I have the window seat.
I glance around, taking stock of the passengers. Some are already in what looks to be like beachgoing attire, as they are obviously on their way to Hawaii for a vacation. Some people are in business suits, while others are in T-shirts and jeans.
I can't help but feel out of place.
“All passengers in Group 2. Please proceed to the gates,” the flight attendant says.
I glance down at the tickets on my phone screen. “That's us,” I tell Dad. “We’re Group 2.”
Dad looks at me, blinks a few times, and then nods.
At the front of the line, I scan my phone in the machine and it beeps.
“You are all good to go. Ms. Poole,” the flight attendant tells me, smiling graciously.
Dad does the same thing behind me, and we’re on the jetway to the plane. Every step feels like it's a part of something bigger.
It’s crowded inside the plane. People are stowing away their luggage, ducking into seats, and talking to each other excitedly.
All without a care in the world. I need to be that way.
Why do I feel a sense of impending doom?
“Here're our seats,” I say, matching up the seat numbers with our tickets.
Behind me, Dad doesn't say anything, long enough for me to look back at him in concern.
“Dad?”
He gives himself a little shake and looks at the seat numbers. “Is this where we are sitting?”
I swallow and nod, wondering where my dad’s mind is at the moment. “Yep.”
I shuffle over my seat to get to the window and buckle myself in. I settle into my seat, clasp my hands across my lap, and close my eyes, taking in a deep breath.
Just a few more hours.
Then I will be in paradise.
Dad takes the seat next to me, and buckles his own seatbelt. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, wanting to ask him again what was wrong, but I don't. I've learned a long time ago not to press issues. If someone did not want to answer it.
So, I pop my earbuds into my ears and hit play on the latest audiobook on my phone. I close my eyes and sit back in my chair, even through the safety demonstrations that the flight attendant shows us.
It isn't until I can feel the wheels leave the ground and we’re in the air above the Bay Area that I open my eyes again and look out the window.
To the west of us, the sky is dark with black storm clouds that fill the horizon. They look ominous. And we’re heading right toward it.
Planes fly through thunderstorms all the time, I remind myself. We’ll be fine.
“Were we supposed to have bad weather today?” I give Dad a little nudge with my elbow.
He turns towards me, then follows my gaze out the window to see the dark stormy sky. He gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down his throat, and shakes his head. “I don't think so.”
His eyes are so wide as he speaks, I can see the whites around the iris.
I frown as I look at him.
The intercom in the cabin bings. “This is your captain speaking,” the pilot says over the intercom. “As you can probably tell, we are about to enter an unexpected storm cell. Unfortunately, we can't go above or below the clouds, so we will have to go right through it. We expect some turbulence, but nothing too bad. Please stay in your seats while the fasten seatbelt sign is still on.”
And to punctuate his command, the seatbelt sign bings once again.
Through the window, I can see the daylight disappear as the dark storm clouds consume us. The light inside the plane changes into almost nighttime with the dark clouds outside. I hear the telltale plink plink of rain against the window and look out again. Lightning sparks off in the distance circling around the clouds.
Planes fly through thunderstorms all the time, I mentally repeat.