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“Vacation?” His voice is a smooth rumble, and if he notices my discomfort, he kindly decides to ignore it. Still staring at the seat in front of me, I gave him a nod, but realize that of course he cannot see my reaction. “Uh, yes. Just for the weekend,” I clarify.
“First time in New York, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Erm,” I hesitate before finally facing him again. Surely it wouldn’t be smart to tell him that I’m traveling alone? He raises an eyebrow and then holds up his hands in surrender.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”
“No, it’s just…“I’m a socially awkward person who doesn’t have any friends and spends her free time either in church or at my parents’ house.Uhm, better not share that information. Instead, I offer, “No, not alone. I’m meeting my friends downtown.”
I’m meeting myfriends. How cool does that sound? I’m officially naming this weekendmy revelation. Nice and dramatic, I like it. The rise of the phoenix, since I’ve buried the dusty, cat-loving granny version of myself. And this cooler version of myself will be damned if she lets this huge fellow get in the way of her mission. “We’re all flying in from different locations, that is.”
“Nice,” he hums. “Well, I hope you have fun.”
He goes back to his phone and I turn my head to peer through the small window only to catch a glimpse of the spectacularly changing sky. Gradually, more light comes into view, and I realize that we’re actually flying into a different time zone. It’s a first for me.
It feels like a week ago that my father drove me to Charles de Gaulle airport, a journey that lasted a good part of the night. We talked during the ride,reallytalked. Nothing like the usual conversations we have at home, which is a funny mixture between church related things and the practical organization of a household that contains three adults. God, it feels so good to be away from there.
Soverygood.
This perhaps sounds boring, but I really do enjoy exchanging interpretations of the Bible—of how certain passages are being used during sermons, of how my parents use that knowledge during their lectures at the university. I am, after all, a theology graduate. But when it was just me and Father in the car, the air was filled with something else. With hope? I’m not sure. Yet he told me that it was time for me to spread my wings and fly. Another sentence that may come from the Bible, but I don’t mind. It’s a sweet thing to say.
So, this weekend…Ireallyhope that when I meet the other girls tomorrow, we’re going to click the same as we did online. Ireallyhope that we’ll be having a long day,andnight.
I close my eyes. It might not be a bad idea to get some sleep now, while I still can. But as I drift off, my thoughts take me straight back to Mother, Father, and the girlfriends I’m meeting tomorrow. The life I’m trying so hard to turn upside down.
Gosh, Mother was so angry, but really, what did she expect? There’s no way that she can keep me locked down in a damn assistant role all my life. No, I was supposed to resign anyway. And move into the convent. Father practically begged me to reconsider and focus on having a good time with my friends. Though, I secretly wonder if this isn’t a ship that has long sailed? Don’t people make friends when they’re like, teenagers?
No. No. No.
But knowing that Father will do anything to keep me out of the convent, feelsgood—feels like despite me having no bloody clue what I’m doing here in this life, I’m still wanted. Because it’s true—living in a convent feels like the ultimate sacrifice. And somewhere along the way I’ve lost faith in whether or not it’s one I’m ready to make.
I let out a sigh and open my eyes again. Sleep won’t come until I’ve checked into my hotel. I’m too wound up now anyway. I’ve written down the address of the hotel on multiple pieces of paper. I shoved one in my hand bag, one in my carry-on luggage and one in my wallet. Just in case. Instead, I grab my phone and take a snapshot of the spectacular view.I’ll keep it with me forever.If this turns out to be a memory soon, at least I’ll have the picture that goes with it. If not, I might actually one day wonder if it ever really happened at all. Can’t have that. I tuck the phone back and grab the gold-colored notebook that I’ve bought especially for the trip. I’ve named it“Ambitions and Talents”which might be a bit tacky, but hey. I already scribbled down a few ideas: singer, cook, photographer. I cross out the last one, gazing through the window once more at the now bright blue light and let out a sigh, before tucking it back in my handbag.
I must have drifted off, but my eyes fly wide open when the plane jolts. My ears pop, and a fit of panic shoots through my body. I look out and see land below me. The stewards rush past and there’s an announcement that seat belts need to be fastened.
Merde.
I touch the cross at my neck as my breath catches in my throat, and then my trembling fingers fumble in my bag to get my inhaler out. This is the reason I don’t like planes. This is the reason I prefer to stay at home. The panic narrows my airways even further and I squeeze my eyes shut. Am I seriously about to have an asthma attack here on the plane?
“Did you hear about the French plane crash?” The tall American suddenly asks. I snap my gaze at him with wild eyes. “W-what?”
“Did you hear about the French plane crash?” He repeats, his eyes glittering. The plane jolts again and I take in a mouth of air. “N-no?”
“They searched the wreckage for survivors but all they found was de brie.” He gives a low rumble of a laugh and I, completely taken aback by the joke, frown at him.
“The brie?” Then the joke clicks. “Debris? Dubrie! Oh.”
My co-passenger observes my gesture as I toss the inhaler back into my handbag. “All good now?”
“Yes.” I sigh, feeling a sudden relief. I didn’t need my meds to get my breathing back to normal. Perhaps there is a way I can finally beat this. “Thank you.”
Barely an hour later, I am standing on the platform with my suitcase and handbag clutched to my chest, ready to board the subway train to Greenwich Village. Ready to make the journey to anewdestination. Prue and Monika have warned us all that we are going to go partying this weekend, and the thought makes my body tremble with anticipation.
It isn’t like I’ve never been anywhere outside of France. After my studies I contemplated either doing a PhD or writing a book. I chose the latter, visiting a number of churches in Europe speaking extensively with their priests. Two years later I presented my findings to the faculty of theology, in the presence of a handful of students and my parents. And then,nothing.
