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Chapter One
Suicide wasn’t the answer, and hindsight was always 20/20.
I knew this to be the truth, but in the present moment, giving a giant fuck-you to the people I thought were my friends and running away mademe feel better. Made me feel like I had control.
Naturally, it was all an illusion.
I had control over nothing.
No one cared what I did with my life, where I went, or how I destroyed everything in my wake. My future, if I wanted a fresh start, beckonedme with the promise of something new. All I had to do was survive the flight there. It was now or never.
A voice crackled over the loudspeaker. “Final boarding call for Air Canadaflight 127, bound for Vancouver.”
Fuck it.
There was no time like the present.
“Just wait,” I yelled to no one, as I pushed through athick crowd of people.
This new urge to take the reins and live the life I wanted – or at least try to – consumed me, propelling me down the lengthy corridors to the gate at the end. There wasno way I was missing this flight. Too much was on the line if I had to watch the plane pull away and deal with everything I’d left in the aftermath of my disastrous failure of a life.
I increased my speed and threw my arm through the other strap of my backpack, pulling tight to stop it from slamming against my back with each bouncy step.
I ran double time, rudelyyet apologetically pushing the people I was unable to avoid out of my way and screeched to a halt in front of the desired gate.
“Wait, please.”Breathlessly, I waved my boarding pass to the flight attendant at the desk.
“I need to see ID.” She clicked on the computer withouta glance.
Beyond the window,the plane sat still attached to the jetway, the spotlight on her nose highlighting the blanket of darkness surrounding it. Thank goodness it hadn’t left yet. The potential for a brand-new start still lay ahead.
I rooted throughthe Coach knockoff I discovered in the bottom of a bargain bin at Goodwill, and pulled out my temporarily invalid driver’s license, presenting it with my boarding pass. As I struggled to catch my breath, I swiped my forehead with the back of my hand.
“Seat 34A.” She handed back my effects. “Have a safe flight, Iris.”
Cringingat the sound of my birth name, since I’d long used a nickname, I slouched as I struggled to regulate my breathing while I walked down the jetway. Damn, I was truly out of shape. The crisp August midnight air mixed with a touch of something unfamiliar; the scent of it getting stronger upon approach.
My legs suddenly froze at the sight of the heavy metal door resting off to the sideof the mighty jet, ready to seal my fate. Once that door closed, there was no turning back.
My new beginning was just a mere five feet in front of me.
Could I really do it?
All I had to do was step on the plane.
Whether to appease the building ache or to remind myself I wasn’t important and had never been,I glanced over my shoulder to the stretched emptiness behind me for one more final check. No one aside from the flight attendant who’d just scanned my boarding pass was in view. Not a ‘friend’ not a ‘family member’.
“Come on in, we’re just getting ready fordeparture.” Another airline worker, with a nametag bearing Wendy, waved in a rush.
My hand shook as I held out the boarding pass, but thankfully, the length of the sleeve kept my tiger stripes from view, although she did stare at my hand longer than I thought was necessary.
“You just made it,” she said with a smile as her hand touched my shoulder. Her head bobbed as she attempted to readthe shaking seat assignment, until she grabbed the paper firmly. “You’re at the back, on the right. Window seat.”
A cold sweat washed over me as I left the unsteady jetway and put my foot onto the sturdy floor of the interior of the plane. Passing through the high-priced business class, the passengers glared while I shuffled by their seats, as if I were keeping them from their destinations. But I hadn’t. I’d arrived just on time.Just.The flight wasn’t scheduled to depart for another three minutes.
I stepped beyond the elite seats, into economy wherethe seats were crammed together, but where most of the passengers sent less than a cursory glance in my direction. Despite the late hour departure, the flight was nearly packed.
The sign above the first section of tightly packed seats indicated row 14. Clearly, at row 34, I was at the far back of the plane, and I shifted my backpack as I inched, reminding myself to breath as I moved towards my escape.
