And What If I Were You

Chapter 1 - Part 11

Sunday, March 20, 2022

Pandanus Airport

Pandanus Island

11.15am. Taxiing on the tarmac...

The engines of the small plane shut off, just the sound of the propellers slowing their revolutions to fill the space. There's that same sensation, like sitting in a draining bathtub as the water runs down the plughole, making Louis feel like he's sinking through the floor of the fuselage.

It's been a bumpy and noisy journey, perhaps more due to the size of the plane than any actual turbulence, but the crew have been nothing but lovely, welcoming him aboard and attending to him diligently throughout. He's out of sorts though; tired, hungry, and in desperate need of a shower and a proper fucking bed to lay in for about a million hours.

The familiar ding of the seatbelt sign sounds in the cabin, passengers unbuckling their belts and getting to their feet. He's at the front of the plane, second row back with an empty window seat beside him, and he knows he'll be getting off before everyone else. He never understood people's need to stand up a millisecond after the plane stopped moving, it's not like they can go anywhere until the door is opened anyway.

He yawns, feeling like he hasn't slept in days even though that isn't the case. He nodded off for a little while on this flight, earbuds in, as exhaustion took over, and he'd managed a decent amount of sleep during the long haul flights overall, but his body clock is seriously messed up. He's not even sure what time it is back home. Home. Shit. This is his home now, he reminds himself.

A nervous knot forms in Louis' stomach as he waits for the flight attendant to assist him. He runs over what the procedure is; stay in his seat until they come and get him and then follow the escort off the plane to baggage collection where he'll be met by a bloke from the retreat called Gideon. He's got his residential confirmation tucked into his backpack along with all his other important documentation, his passport, and a small amount of cash. Pandanus doesn't work on cash, operating on a card-only basis, but he'd been advised to bring some with him just in case.

"Louis, are you ready?" Alaya asks from beside him as he hears her open the overhead compartment.

"Yes, thank you."

Louis pulls himself to standing using the back of the seat in front as leverage, and shuffles out into the aisle, legs stiff from sitting down on four flights over 40-plus hours.

"I've got your backpack and Gideon will meet us at the stairs."

"Sounds good."

Alaya had explained that they were very familiar with visually impaired passengers coming to stay at the artist's retreat and as a result, they had the transport process down to a fine art. It was reassuring, knowing that he wasn't such an oddity and the special accommodations they were making for him were actually routine for them.

The light in the cabin is still dimmed, the tiny porthole windows not allowing in much of the sunshine he knows is waiting outside. He stops at the end of the aisle, hands resting on the backs of the seats in the front row, listening as the seal of the plane's main door is released.

A wave of warm air floods the space, mixing with the stale, filtered air inside the plane. It's humid and cloying and sticks to Louis' skin, making the layer of oily travel-muck that covers every inch of him feel even more greasy and gross. He desperately needs that shower and some clean clothes.

A figure appears in his line of sight, filling the opening to the outside. "Hey Alaya," he hears a man's voice say, Gideon, he presumes.

"Hi Gideon. How's the family?" Alaya asks brightly.