Ophelia
Made it!! And I only cried twice.
It takes a minute to send, but when it does, a reply comes straight away. It’s past five in the morning there.
Alex
I miss you. Proud to be yours.
The picture attached is the little highland cow I got him for his birthday, resting on the pillow beside him, right where I should be.
Mabel appears, giving me a warm smile.
Why am I emotional? Is it sad that I’m so much better at befriending older people?
“Funny how you get attached to people after a only few hours,” she says, echoing my thoughts aloud.
I wrap her in a hug, squeezing tight as the whir of people goes on around us.
“Things have been ever so lonely since my daughter passed,” she says, voice wobbling. “Maybe we could be phone friends.”
“I was too scared to ask you,” I say, on a laugh.
“In case I thought you were trying to get into my will?”
“Mabel!No!”
She laughs, pulling away and handing me her phone, open on her contacts. I smile at the name she’s already put in.Ophelia Scared of Flying.
I put her in mine, too.Mabel Not Scared of Flying.
“You’ll have to come for tea next time you’re in Yorkshire.”
“I promise I will.”
She takes my hand in hers, the skin tanned and mottled with age, giving me a sincere look. “If he’s the right fella for you, you’ll get through the long distance.”
I squeeze her one last time, setting her off in the direction of the luggage claim. I head to Arrivals, trying to talk myself into spending the last of my emergency savings on a series of train tickets, even though it was supposed to be for driving lessons.
I wander aimlessly through to the airport foyer. It’s people-watching heaven. Men in sharp suits and earpieces hold iPads with people’s names in unhelpfully small text. That surely cannot be the most effective way to do it. Mabel would agree with me.
A girl with a giant backpack runs past me, leaping into the waiting arms of her parents. A couple kiss under the harsh airport lights, his hand lifting the tote bag off his husband’s shoulder. A woman and three toddlers whoop with excitement as a man jogs over, a big grin on his face.
A year ago, amonthago, it probably would’ve made me cry. A year ago, I found grief in the joy of others, self-doubt in the beauty of my friends.
I wait for the misery and the envy to hit me, but it doesn’t. All it does is warm my heart, restore my faith in the world a little more.
Or maybe I’m so happy to not be forty thousand feet in the air that I’ve gone delirious.
A flash of orange catches my eye, a ridiculous bundle of gold, orange, and yellow balloons, and another foil balloon shaped like a star. Each balloon has a letter on it.
YOU SURVIED.
I’m so distracted by the message, I almost miss the hands beneath them, waving frantically. Hardly notice Colette, Magda, and Divyabouncing around to get my attention, holding a flattened cardboard box that saysWelcome Back Opheliain big pink letters.
I gape at them like a goldfish, feet seeming to grow roots into the vinyl flooring of the airport.
I …what?
