I felt much the same about the airport departure area. I cleared customs and security faster than I'd expected so I had over two hours to wait in the bland gray space. I walked around for a while, but everything looked the same so it seemed pointless. Instead, I found myself a seat in the corner and finally made myself start thinking about the goodbyes I needed to say.
Back when I was with Greg, we'd gone out constantly and I'd had a huge collection of acquaintances and casual friends. Now, though, I discovered to my surprise that I only needed to tell Candice and Lydia I was leaving. Nobody else would even notice my absence.
That shocked me. How had I become such a recluse without realizing it?
I didn't know, and I decided it didn't matter. It just made it easier to get out of the country. Out of my life.
My hands shaking, I called Candice first since I knew she didn't like late calls because of the kids.
She didn't answer her cell, which didn't have voice mail, so I geared myself up again and called her home phone.
"Hey, Larissa, what's up?"
I froze. For some stupid reason I hadn't expected to get Ian.
"Larissa?"
"Sorry, I..." It hit me hard then. I was leaving everyone I knew to fly to a country where I knew nobody and didn't speak the language. What the hell was I doing? It terrified me and I could only say, "Is Candice there?"
"Sorry, she took the kids over to her parents' place. Did you try her cell? She probably left it in the car but you could--"
"I did," I said, then I couldn't think of what to say next.
"I can have her call you back when she gets home. Or tomorrow if you'd rather."
Tomorrow I'd be in Frankfurt. "I... um..."
"Hey, look, are you okay? I just realized, you sound funny. Is anything wrong?"
Maybe this was actually for the best. I could leave without disrupting Candice's evening. "No, I'm fine." I made myself perk up my voice. "I'll just drop her an email. No big deal. No rush. Sorry for bugging you."
He laughed. "You're never a bug, Larissa," he said, his voice warm and friendly. "I'll tell her to check her email when she gets home. Tomorrow at the latest."
Feeling as warm as his voice at his tone, and hating myself for it, I said, "Thanks."
I got off the phone, then spent a good twenty minutes trying to compose the email. It was only when I realized that my phone's battery was running low that I gave up and sent it as it was, though it was too rambly and probably raised more questions than it solved.
Dear Candice,
This is weird, but here goes. I'm at the airport leaving for Kuwait. Yes, really. I'm going to be a teacher. I've got a contract for the rest of this school year and all of next year. I can come home in the summer, and at Christmas too, but I'm not sure yet if I will. I just need to be gone. Things aren't right for me in Toronto at the moment. It's nothing to do with you, so don't feel bad. I'm a mess, and maybe I'll be less of a mess there. I hope so, anyhow.
Take care of yourself and the kids and Ian, okay? I'm going to miss you guys.
Larissa
Typing the note made me miss them already, and picturing them made me remember how adoringly they all looked at Candice and that made me disgusted at my jealousy of my best friend, so I had to take a break to drink some water and be sure I wouldn't cry before I could call Lydia. As the phone rang I had a flash of hope that I'd get her voice mail and not have to actually talk to her, but her cheerful "Hey, Larissa" dimmed that flash.
Before I could speak she started telling me about her day, and I couldn't take it. My battery was almost gone and so was my strength, so I cut her off. "My phone's nearly dead so listen. I'm leaving."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm going to Kuwait."
After a short shocked pause, she said, "You're... what? Are you serious?"
"I'm at the airport right now. I just have to go away."
As I spoke, my phone made its 'low battery' beep and I knew I only had seconds left. I'd packed the charger in my suitcase to make my carry-on lighter, a move that now seemed idiotic. Yet another sign I couldn't do anything right.
"Larissa, I don't understand. You're happy here. You have a great life here. Why go there?"
Sadness and fear and confusion and a sudden ironic amusement exploded from me. I couldn't even pack a charger in the logical place. How could someone so clueless possibly have a great life? "Happy? Everything sucks. I can't... look, I just wanted you to know. I'm gone. I'll email once I get settled."
She said, "Why there? What are you--"
"Teaching. Look, I have to--"
I heard the difference in the connection, somehow, when the phone shut off. I didn't have Lydia any more.
I didn't have anyone now.
I only had me.
I couldn't think of anything worse.
Chapter Ten
I still felt awful when I settled into my window seat, sad and scared and alone, but when the plane's engines revved and we began taxiing down the runway something inside me seemed to let out its breath and relax and I began to feel calmer. I was on my way now, heading for my fresh start. Things could only get better.
I watched out the window as the lights of Toronto disappeared behind a blanket of clouds, like age spots vanishing under a layer of foundation. The further away we got from the world I knew, the better I felt.
The flight attendants served a meal, and once we'd had time to eat they turned off most of the plane's lights so people could sleep, but for a long time I didn't even try. I didn't feel the need. I sat looking out my window at the black blank sky and feeling lighter and brighter than I had in forever. I'd left everything rotten behind.
Including myself. My old self. I felt truly happy at the thought, for the first time in a very long time. No more screwing up, no more making stupid decisions. My future was as wide-open and empty as the sky. Nothing from before had come with me.
Unfortunately, when I decided I should take a nap it turned out that my lack of ability to sleep on airplanes had definitely come with me. Though I snuggled into my pillow against the window and took long deep breaths and even tried counting camels instead of sheep in honor of going to the Middle East, I was awake and that was that.
At least, that was that until the pilot announced we'd be landing in thirty minutes. Then sleep attacked me, trying to drag me under. I couldn't give in, though, because I'd feel awful if I did, so I had to keep giving my head sharp little shakes and wriggling in my seat to fight off the sleep I wanted so much.
When we landed in Frankfurt, it was almost impossible to haul myself to my feet. I hadn't worn a jacket over my jeans and light sweater, since I knew Kuwait would be warm, but I hadn't expected that we'd had to walk across the tarmac through drifting snow.
A flight attendant insisted I take a blanket with me, so I stumbled into the airport clutching my carry-on bag in one hand and holding the blanket around my shoulders with the other, feeling like a refugee. I discarded the blanket the first chance I got, because people were looking at me funny, but I still felt wrong and out of place. The airport was bustling, of course, as somehow they always are, and I wandered around staring blankly at the signs in German and wondering what to do with myself during the layover. My happiness on the flight was long gone and I kept thinking, over and over like the words were on a recorded loop in my head, "What have you done?"
I didn't know. But I'd done it, and I couldn't go back now. I'd literally come too far to go back.
As again my mind said, "What have you done?", the fatigue I'd been fighting off swept over me and brought with it a wave of emotion. I'd left every last person I knew. I was going to Kuwait to meet someone I'd never met before who'd take me to an apartment she'd booked and leave me there. Assuming she didn't immediately sell me for camel food or something. Of all the stupid things I'd done, this had to be number one.
My throat tightened and I came perilously close to bursting into sobs in the middle of the airport.
/> The seats and benches around the concourse were all occupied, so I found an empty wall and slid down it to sit on the floor. The pressure of the tiles against my back brought up unpleasant memories of Greg pinning me to the wall in Kegan's alley, but I wrapped my arms tightly around myself and took long deep breaths and eventually managed to push everything away.
I couldn't recapture the happiness I'd felt on the plane, but I did get to a sort of stunned calm. I was a new Larissa now. I would forget everything I'd done before and take full advantage of my new life.
My stomach growled, and I decided to take full advantage of the Euros Janet had told me to bring and find myself a snack. I peered into McDonald's, reading with a sort of dazed obsession the menu that wasn't the same as at home, but ended up at a little coffee shop with a delicious creamy hot chocolate and a huge chocolate chip cookie. Since I'd read the Harry Potter books I'd thought of chocolate as the thing to eat in times of shock or stress. Medicinal.
I ate slowly, reading a book on my ereader about a woman who went overseas and met the man of her dreams and hoping I'd end up living her story, and by the time I boarded the plane to Kuwait I was calm and peaceful and sure I'd be able to sleep.
Wrong. Again. When we reached Kuwait, I was jittery and frustrated and willing to trade everything I'd brought with me for a sleeping pill or a good knock on the head.
I'd settled down to sleep right after takeoff, and had almost been there when I'd felt an unpleasantly familiar sensation. I tried to convince myself it wasn't happening, but I knew it was. My period had arrived. Two days early.
Naturally I hadn't packed anything in my carry-on, so I had to haul myself out of my seat, past the large man sitting next to me who glared at me as if daring to get up was the worst thing I could have done, and go see if the bathroom held any supplies.
There was a spot for them but it was empty, so I had no choice but to leave the bathroom and ask the flight attendant assigned to my section, who was of course a man, if there were any pads or tampons available.
He rolled his eyes, and for a split second I thought he was going to give me a hard time for not having my own but then he said, "I guess someone cleared us out. Happens a lot. Yup, I've got more. Give me a second."
He went off to the back of the plane, while I stood by the bathroom and awkwardly let two people go ahead of me though they were clearly confused as to why I was hanging around the bathroom like some weird tiny-toilet-obsessed pervert, and then returned with a cardboard box in his hands. Once the bathroom was vacant, he went in for a few moments then came out and said, "All set. Sorry about that."
I mumbled my thanks, feeling so uncomfortable that he knew I had my period and knowing I shouldn't care and feeling stupid because I did care, and scooted in to take care of things.
After that, though, I couldn't relax, and I certainly couldn't get to sleep, and if I'd found getting off the plane in Frankfurt disorienting then Kuwait was like stepping into a spinning kaleidoscope.
It was an airport like any other, and even that confused me. In my head, 'Kuwait' and 'one-camel town' were synonymous, so seeing a modern airport threw me off. In the hall outside the arrival area, several Middle Eastern men and women in burgundy uniforms stood at attention holding signs. Most of the signs were in Arabic, which made it easy to pick out "Larissa Collins".
I went up to that woman. "Hi, I'm Larissa."
"Hello, madam," she said, smiling at me. "Are you ready to come with me?"
Madam? She had my name, and I'd have preferred she use it. It would have made the whole thing just a little less strange. But I nodded, and she smiled again and led me down the hall.
There was a line of people, mostly Middle Eastern, waiting to have their passports checked by a security guard, but she ignored them and took me right to the guard. Feeling guilty, I kept my eyes forward as he checked my paperwork and didn't look at the waiting people for fear they were angry with me. Nobody commented, though, and my guide had me through in moments.
"Now, for your visa. You have the money? Six Kuwaiti dinars, exact change?"
I did, since Janet had told me what to ask for at the bank, and I managed to find a one and a five amid the stiff unfamiliar bills in my wallet. The twenty Kuwaiti dinar bill was almost the same shade of green as a Canadian twenty, although of course the images on it were completely different, but it was worth closer to eighty Canadian dollars. That meant my visa was costing about twenty-four bucks, but Janet had assured me she'd reimburse me. I didn't care if she did: a small price to pay for a new life.
The guide relieved me of the money, and my passport, then went to the counter, again bypassing the waiting people. No line here, just people sitting slumped in brown vinyl chairs, all with some combination of exhaustion and frustration and annoyance on their faces. Mostly white people in the chairs, with a few from other ethnicities, but all the men behind the counter were Middle Eastern. I wondered how long it would take me to get used to seeing so many Middle Eastern faces, then felt bad. Was I a racist? I didn't think so.
I wondered, though, when I saw my guide hand my passport to a man and then leave the counter to speak to another guide. Men bustled back and forth behind the counter, and I immediately lost track of which one had my passport. I hated the 'they all look the same' statement people often made about races not their own, and yet I couldn't tell who was who.
I sat, feeling uncomfortable about that and keeping myself awake by looking around at the crowd of people and noticing to my surprise an Arabic-labelled but still clearly McDonald's restaurant down the hall, for what felt like forever until my guide returned to the counter. A flurry of words I didn't understand followed, and the men and my guide laughed. I wondered why, but convinced myself it didn't matter. If people here would be laughing at me, I might as well get used to it.
The guide brought over my passport and a sheet of paper. "Keep these with you at all times," she said. "If the police ask, you have to show them."
I blinked, but nodded.
She smiled and took me to the luggage pickup area. Since we'd had to wait for the visa, my luggage was among the last bags sadly circling on the belt. I assumed I'd be ready to go meet Janet once I'd claimed it, but instead I had to pass through another security post and the suitcases had to be x-rayed.
I'd never seen a security post like this. Four Middle Eastern men in long flowing white robes sat off to one side, drinking something steaming from tiny black cups and ignoring everyone around them. One man, casting envious looks at the others, stood beside the x-ray machine glancing occasionally at its screen as if he didn't much care what he saw.
I knew enough about security screenings not to ask right there why my things were being checked on their way out of the airport, but once my bags had passed the screening and I too had gone through an x-ray machine and the guide led me out into the concourse, I had to ask her.
"Checking for alcohol," she said. "It's not allowed."
I nodded, wondering how an x-ray machine would identify alcohol but not wanting to ask.
We walked along in silence for a few moments, then she stopped at another counter. Another burst of talking to the attendant there, then she reached out and took the phone he handed her. She dialed, glancing at her clipboard for the number, then said, "Madam, it's Sarah at the airport. Are you here?" After a moment, she said, "Okay. I will tell her," and hung up.
To me, she said, "Madam Janet will be here in ten minutes."
I nodded, and she turned and walked away.
I stood awkwardly, not sure whether I should be going after her or staying put, and even less sure how I would identify Janet.
After I stood by the counter for fifteen minutes, swaying with exhaustion but afraid to go find a seat in case I missed Janet, a short white woman, nearly as wide as she was tall, came running toward me, her fine brown hair a messy halo around her head. "Larissa! I'm so sorry, I had paperwork to finish and I lost track of time."
It was well after midnight
her time and she was still doing paperwork?
She stopped in front of me, panting. Her eyes flicked to the scrape on my cheek, and I was glad I'd told her about it during our phone call even though I'd felt ridiculous doing it. "You are Larissa, right?"
I realized I hadn't answered or even reacted to her words. "I am. Sorry, I'm a little spaced out."
She laughed. She had a great laugh, open and friendly, and I felt myself relax as she said, "If you weren't, I'd be surprised. Okay, let's get you to your apartment so you can sleep."
I'd left a Toronto with snow thick on the ground. Walking out into what would be a nice summer night at home, though it was only March, felt bizarre.
Janet led me to her car and we stuffed my luggage into the trunk and set off. As we drove and I listened to the soothing sound of the car engine, the sleep I hadn't been able to find on the plane rushed in again but I forced it back. I couldn't fall asleep in front of my brand new boss.
Staring out at the surprisingly modern highway to keep awake, I saw what for a second I thought was snow drifting across the pavement as it did at home and had done in Frankfurt. "What's that?"
"What?"
I pointed.
"Sand. Not a sand storm, thankfully. Too dangerous to drive in those. We haven't had one for a while, and Inshallah we won't get one until you're a little more settled."
"In..."
She glanced at me, puzzled. "Pardon?"
I felt my cheeks growing warm but I had to say, "You said insh... something. I don't know that word."
Another puzzled glance, then she burst out laughing. "Did I? I didn't even realize it. Inshallah." She spelled it for me then added, "It means 'God willing'. Wow, I really am acclimatized."
Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13) Page 36
