Collide

(2) | .James. | Then

Six Years Before

I had never really been a fan of flying. I didn't like the way it made your stomach twist when the plane lifted off the ground when it takes off. I didn't like the way it made your heart bounce between your chest and your stomach when it lands.

I had no other option though.

Unless I wanted to miss the opportunity of the band having their first potential debut, I had to go. I had to suffer from the five hour plane journey from Ontario to New York.

Five hours.

Five hours and ten minutes to be precise.

Three hundred and ten minutes.

Eighteen thousand six hundred seconds.

Two thousand four hundred and twelve miles.

I've travelled further. I've been all the way to Europe to visit Nona and Pops and back. That flight was nine hours.

Nine hours two minutes.

Those last two minutes made me feel more than a little queasy but I survived. I'm pretty sure Mom had to shut me up by shoving a dummy between my chapped lips because I was just that young, but I still survived.

The section of the plane we were in had three seats by the windows and four in the middle of the two aisles.

The three boys which made up the band we were a part of had already found their seats. I was a row in front of them because there wasn't a spare seat for me to sit down in.

E12. My seat number.

I lift up my hand baggage and slot it into the cubby above my head.

A short blonde approaches me, owning a soft smile on her face. One of the sweetest smiles I'd seen. There weren't a lot of people on this plane who seemed to be as enthusiastic as she was.

"E12?" she asks. Her hand clutched the handle of her own luggage.

She looks up at me and I nod my head. "Great. I'm E11 so I may need to squish in between you and my friend if that's okay."

Her voice was gentle and considerate. Almost rhythmic and lyrical in a way. She makes it sound like she's reading out a poem and it brings me at a loss for words.

I step aside, giving her way to reach her seat but she looks down at her luggage. Given her height, I doubt she would have been able to get it up there herself.

"I've got it." I lean down and lift up her case before pushing it up and slotting it into the cubby next to mine. It was unusually heavy. It felt like I was lifting weights when I lifted up her baggage.

"Sorry." She laughs lightly but it comes out as a giggle.

I wish I could have captured that moment in a video on my phone and replayed it over and over again just to be reminded of how much innocence there is in the world.

"I've got a few camera gadgets inside there." She laughs again and I smile, watching her slide herself inside our row to sit down on her seat.

I follow suit, sitting myself down on the outside by the aisle. I was glad I wasn't sat by the window. That probably would have made me feel nauseous as soon as we were no longer on hard ground.

"Gadgets?" I dig further.

She probably didn't have enough space in her actual luggage and didn't want to pay extra for the weight. That was clever of her.

"I'm studying art and photography. I'm going to New York for the creative arts programme," she tells me.

"No way," I gasp. No way.