An Hour Ahead

Chapter 11: Here I Come

A faint ring came from a distance. It was familiar. I didn't know if it was coming from an inanimate object in my room or if it was playing back in my dream. I opened my eyes and heard the sound again. It was the ringtone I dreaded hearing every morning. It woke me up everyday at 7:00 am. Today, it shook me awake even earlier, 6:00. Damn you, inevitable noise. I grabbed my Kindle Fire and swiped the snooze button off on my alarm clock app. I locked the screen and threw the device back down on my bed and choked it with a pillow. I forced myself out of bed and flicked on my switch, turning on both the ceiling fan and light. I picked up the stack of neatly folded clothes on my dresser. I put my outfit of the day, or as Alex and I would call it, "OOTD," on the dresser every night before I went to bed so that I wouldn't have to worry about looking like road-kill the next day. For today's flight, I chose my favorite dark-washed boot-cut jeans, a burgundy v-neck sweater, and a black and white infinity scarf. For shoes, I'd wear a pair of brown-leather heeled booties. I felt I might as well not bum it up, as I'm trying to impress the guy I've been crushing on for the past year. It's not like I was going to see him immediately, but the fact that he lived in the same place I was travelling seemed like a valid reason to give my physical appearance some care.

My hair was still damp from the shower I took the night before. I unleashed my hair that was constricted in a messy bun. I smoothed and untangled it with my periwinkle Conair hairbrush with the fun jelly-like handle at the end. I tousled my hair with my fingers for a messier look. I liked combing my hair sometimes, but enjoyed messing with it after, even more. I'm weird, I know. I just dig really messy hairdo's y'know? I jumped into my jeans and pulled them up to my hips, buttoning it securely.. after two tries.

"Case, you need to get on that Zumba," I whispered to myself beneath my breath.

I slipped on the sweater and fastened a necklace around my neck that was given to me by a good friend of mine. It held a wishbone, a golden leaf, a teeny empty jar, and a storybook locket that contained two pictures of cats that flaunted my secret life as a lonely cat lady. Inside joke between me and her actually. I always joke about how I'm going to end up in a cold apartment with a portable heater, knitting for a living with precisely 27 cats that would prance happily on yarn balls before my feet. If my dreams of marrying a hockey player (ahem.. ) were to be shot down, that's how my life would be. It's all planned out.

I then wrapped the infinity scarf around my neck twice. I blanketed my feet with grey ankle socks. I grabbed my Juicy Couture "Viva La Juicy" perfume and put two spritz on either side of my neck, that I would smear on my wrists, then onto the rest of my clothes. Topping off my outfit, I combed my hair back with a tan headband that stood out in my dark brown hair. I'm not much of a make-up kinda girl. As a matter of fact, I hate make-up. I'll only wear it for special occasions. My face has a mind of its own. It chooses to throw a tantrum on me and break out with acne one day, then decide it wants to have a cry fest and get all oily on me, the next. Make-up was not my face's best friend. It wasn't mine, either.

"Casey doll!" Mom yelped from the livingroom. I heard the fatigue in her voice. I hated doing this to my mom. Making her wake up so early for me. Hell, if I ever had kids, I'd make their dad do the waking up and suffering. "Are you ready? It's 7:25, hon! We gotta get you to the airport!" she added.

There was mom again. She was usually late for other things such as picking me up from school sometimes, attending doctor's appointments, and watching new episodes of American Idol at 7:00 pm. Though for some reason, she never failed to get to the airport at least an hour or two prior to a flight. I don't know why she's rushing me so bad. My flight wasn't until 8 somethin'.

I just decided not to argue. "Alright, mom. I'm ready." I rolled my luggage on the hard wood floor until I saw her staring at me from the bottom of the stairs. Oh, I know. I picked it up then, testing my poor muscular strength. She winked at me and mouthed the words, "That's better."