One Journey, the Final

Chapter 21

I could barely sleep that night. I kept tossing and turning, worrying that this was all insane. Another part of me wondered if I would wake up tomorrow and find that this entire year has all been a dream.

Ok, so I worry too much.

When I woke up, the sun was shining beautifully like the baby sun in Teletubbies, and the sky a pale blue. That was a good sign. I took a shower and dressed in my outfit that I had picked last night. Comfortable t-shirt, jean shorts, and red Converse shoes. I threw my messy hair up into a pony tail, not trying to impress anyone, and sprayed on a splash of perfume. Six-thirty hit and I quickly grabbed my suitcase and a cab to the airport. It was a bit strange to be there, considering the last time I was here, I was saying goodbye to Harry. Lucky for me, there weren't many people, and I was able to board the plane within an hour. I looked out the window at the world down below, sitting next to an old man with a blind fold on, peacefully sleeping. He was quietly snoring. An eight hour flight could not go any faster. I reached down to my carry-on and pulled out my favorite book, Jane Eyre. After about an hour and a half of reading, my eyes start to burn, and I decide to take a nap. I wake up two hours later. Only four-and a half hours to go! To my amazement, the old man sitting next to me is awake too, happily eating a sandwich.

            "Did you order that?" I ask, noticing now my growling belly. With his mouth full, he shakes his head, "no."

           "I'm Annabel," I say, outstretching my hand. With a hand full of bread crumbs, he shakes it. I grit my teeth and slyly wipe off the crumbs when he's not looking.

           "Donald. My name's Donald," he said. "Are you hungry?" I tried to protest that I was not hungry, but before I could say anything, my stomach growled, loudly. He chuckled slightly to himself, reached down to his bag, and handed me aa granola bar. I gratefully took it, and chewed happily.

           "So what's a pretty little girl like you doing here on a plane alone?" Donald asked, putting down his sandwich.

           "Mercy. I'm trying to get a second chance with this guy..." I said, my voice trailing off.

          "Oh I see, he must mean a lot to you. Must be a good enough whipper-snapper, eh?" he asked, nudging my arm with his boney elbow. Ow.

        "Well I hope he is. I'm flying all the way to London so we can be together," I said dryly. Donald smiled and said,

       "So you're fulfilling the role that technically he's supposed to play? Like in those movies where the guy chases after the girl last minute at the airport?" I nodded, my mouth in a tight line. He began to laugh. His laugh was old and humble, and had a slight wheeze.

      "Well, that's perfectly fine. I don't see anything wrong with it, especially in these days. Sometimes, you just got to flow with the generation. Like that new funky music you're all playing these days. Boo-boppity, teeny fun feel good music. I can't say that I necessarily like it, but I won't call you a 'devil child' if you listen to it." He smiled. I smiled too. Donald was a nice man.

         "But you've got to understand, men don't think like women do. Some guys look at women like a nice slice of warm apple pie. You can't take just one bite. You've got to have it all. Women, are like..." he paused, searching for the right wording. "Jello. Sweet, and if you make them wait too long, they'll be gone. Jello is always changing form, like women and always changing their minds. My wife was like Jello. Sweet, a little red, and jiggly. Don't tell her I said that." he said with a warm smile. I giggled.

       "So where's your wife?" I asked. Donald's face fell a little. I could tell that I had said something wrong.

       "She...didn't make it. This weekend is actually our 60th anniversary. So I'm going to Europe and celebrating it, without her," he said, his eyes quickly reddening.

      "I'm...so sorry," I said, feeling a lump form in my throat.

       "It's alright," he smiled again, "She loved travelling. I just like getting away with her. That's the thing about relationships, you have to spend time with each other. I loved Beth-Anne." He wiped a tear from his face. I might've joined him.

        "So, who's your beau?" He asked. I laughed, and responded,

       "Oh he's quite a catch. He's actually a singer for a boo-boppity boy band. He's charming though. And this is my second chance at true love," I said cheesily. I realized right there that what I said was true. The love that Harry and I had, it couldn't be replicated with anyone else. It was our personal relationship, and my personal feelings. Donald patted my hand, his eyes sparkling. He was like a grandfather, he had that same kindness about him.

       The rest of the ride went as smooth as Jello.