One Touch | Charlie Gillespie

T W E N T Y - S I X

"What do you think I should do with June?"

Seven hours and eighty-five minutes later, the plane lands on the runway of Miami International Airport.

It is 6 P.M when I nudge Quinn to wake her up. She doze off two hours ago after I told her to get some sleep. This weekend is going to be an exhausted one, I could tell. Being around my family has always made me feel safe, but they're so loud and dramatic by nature that our accu's need to be fully loaded before attending our relatives.

"Where are we?" Her eyes flatter open, looking around cautiously. Quinn sits up as I stuff my headphones in their case. "We're home. Let's go."

The passengers who sat behind us during the flight walk past our seats down the aisle, their suitcases clutched in their hands and their bags hanging from their shoulders. Some people who had just woken up from their nap are rubbing their eyes, while others are chatting and laughing with one another.

Quinn and I also get out of our seats to get our suitcases off the shelf above us. "Have we already applauded for the pilots and the staff?" she asks as she sets her soft pink suitcase on the floor.

I chuckle, nodding. "Yes we have, but you totally slept through it." I realize my backpack is a little bit heavier than I thought when I drag it to my back and almost fall forward. Maybe those six different dresses and five pair of shoes weren't that necessary after all.

We walk off the plane's steps that lead to the ground, passing the blond flight attendant who smiles friendly at us. "Have a nice day," she tells us. Now I see her by daylight, I notice she looks familiar, like I've seen her somewhere before. "Thank you, you too," I return with a smile as I keep walking. Quinn does the same. I turn my head to the lady one more time before I decide to put the weird feeling in my gut away.

It is noisy and very crowded at the airport. Mothers are running after their children who are distracted by stuffed animals that sit neatly in the window of souvenir shops. Men in suits are speed-walking with phones clutched to their ears, while a group of Chinese people slurp from their Starbucks drink.

"My parents are waiting at the parking lot," Quinn says, grabbing my arm and leading me toward the exit. She reminds me of the fact that my parents are not here to welcome me with wide arms. I could have seen it coming, you know, that my Dad would have a last minute meeting, but it still feels awful. As if I'm not important to him. And though my aunt Petra, Quinn's mom, is just as busy with work as my father is, she always seems to find a way to be there for Quinn. And also for me, but that's because she doesn't really have choice.

We walk out of the exit and head toward the parking lot. Not much later, our eyes catch two people waving their arms heavily at us. They stand in front of a black car, waiting for us to approach. I see Quinn smiling next to me. She has missed her parents of course.

"My baby!" aunt Petra calls as she runs to Quinn with wide arms. "Oh, I missed you!"
Quinn's dad, Frank, welcomes me by giving me a quick hug. I've known him my whole life, but we've never really been close. He probably just feels sorry because my own dad isn't here to pick me up.

Aunt Petra and uncle Frank switch places, so now it's my turn to be hugged tightly by Quinn's mom. "June! How are you, honey? How was backpacking? And your new job?"

I should probably explain this. Before I went to visit Quinn, I have backpacked for five months in seven different countries. On my own. And yes, that might sound lonely, but it was actually really fun. In the middle of my trip, I got that call from Kenny, so I haven't been in Florida for over six months. That's also why I was hoping my father would pick me up from the airport.