Sweet Rush

Fifteen

With every step I take towards the entrance of the small plane to South Carolina, my heart drops lower and lower. The shame and guilt of lying to my parents weigh heavy and I have no other choice but to put on the best performance of my non-existant acting career. I settle into the cozy business class seat my mom booked for me. Unfortunately, they couldn't get me a window seat stopping me from my fit of disassociation for the one hour and forty minutes of my flight. I decide to put my mind to rest and watch my comfort show 'Glee'. My thoughts casually wander to Jane and how I've been denying my ill-defined feelings for him. I mean suffocating them really. I can't bring myself to succumb to any of it because I'll fall. Fall hard. As I said, I won't be my boss's mistress but it's getting hard to not confront my feelings. It's crazy how chemicals work, making you feel weird things towards someone even if they've been a complete asshole you barely know. I sadly can't help myself.

I feel as if he's had a part to play in all of this, from the hickey to the suggestive comments. I fail to decipher if he says those things to get a chance with me in bed or whether he's trying to shoot his shot in the worst way possible. Besides, I just know he's the type of guy that would throw me at the wolves after he get what he wants.

The drama in Glee goes from a level one to ten, and now I'm completely distracted muting my thoughts of Jane. I wish it was like this all the time.

After about an hour, the voice of the pilot echoes throughout the cabin as he announces that we are about to land. I take a breath of relief or out of fear- I can't decide yet. It's the real deal now. I'm about to see my parents for the first time in months. I've rehearsed my lines about school countless times, making sure that I check off every scenario that I'm put in. And if a curveball gets thrown at me, I'll rely on that one improv class I took in grade ten. That's when I found out that I can do a sick impromptu so I've got this in the bag.

I roll my eyes as all the 15 people on this flight rise when the beep signal is activated. It's as if they believe they'll make it much farther than the people that exit the plane after them. I grab the one carry on that I have and shimmy past the crowd and out to the tunnel. I'm soon in the airport and make my way towards the kiosk to check out before going towards the exit. When I'm near, I see in the distance the most treasurable people in my life. They're clinging to each other with smiles so bright, I'm blinded by their joy. My mom does a little clap as I slowly run towards them. My dad is now spreading his arms wide open, preparing to embrace me just like he always did when I was ten. As I get closer, I brace for his extreme bear hug, crashing into his warm chest. I feel my mother's gentle palms around my shoulders and I sink into the loving espouse.

"Hi baby." my dad says between kisses and I smile because I've missed them so dearly. He unwraps his arms from around me and they both shower me in more kisses. Perks of being an only child is you get all the love and full attention. I'm treated like the sun itself and I'd be damned if a guy ever treats me otherwise.

"Are you ready for a nice home made meal, because I've made your favourite." my moms says with the biggest grin on her face. My mom is a beast in the kitchen and every time she cooks, I keep questioning why I haven't died from a food coma yet. I end up stuffing my face every time, barely able to move after eating. All this time in New York, I've been craving my mom's Frogmore Stew. If you haven't grown up in South Carolina then you wouldn't know that the Frogmore Stew is the ultimate seafood boil. I've tried to sate my desire by trying regular seafood but none can compare to the rich and blessed homemade version.

"I can just taste it right now, ma." I giggle as dad takes my bag and carries it towards the car. The atmosphere change from New York to South Carolina is refreshing. This is exactly what I needed, a break from all the hassle that New York offers. Even though I hate my sleepy town, it's not so bad for being the prodigal's daughter. I get into the back of the car, letting them know that I'm too jet lagged to talk and I'd like to take a nap.

Quite frankly, I don't need a nap at all, just some silence while I soak in my thoughts and watch the vibrant greenery pass by. It's around 7pm, the November kind, so the sky is painted in the aftermath of a picturesque sunset with streaks of burnt orange, pink and red in the pool of cornflower blue. Inevitably what comes with the silence, is the baggage I need to offload but I'll just have to play it cool. I just need to act normal. Like nothing is happening. In about fifteen minutes we've pulled up to the house. Nothing has changed since I left. My mother's small garden at the front is slowly dwindling away as mother nature prepares for winter. A feeling of nostalgia comes over me as I walk up the steps to our porch. I can almost smell the creamy aroma of our home from out here. Dad opens the door for me, letting me in before himself. I'm met with everything I left which slightly brings tears to my eyes. Our family portraits throughout the years line the walls of the foyer with some eccentric African art my mother bought while travelling. My mom encourages me to head to my room to get some rest before eating even though it was well past dinner time. I don't care what time it is, I'm getting a bowl of that stew. I do what she says and go to my room which is such a major difference from my room back in New York. This room holds a lot because I've grown up in this space. I'm one of those people who hasn't gotten rid of their childhood stuff yet, so it's pretty clustered but cozy nonetheless. I throw myself on the bed, and savour the softness. I have no idea why my bed here is much more welcoming than the one in New York. It must be a difference in quality. Before resting, I decide to take a nice long warm shower. I could definitely use the remedy of a nice shower. All I want to do is wash the airport feeling away and fully embody the Southern 'homey' experience while I can. Because sooner rather than later, I'll be out of here and missing it.

I slip off my joggers and oversized hoodie, leaving the remnants of New York and the night life behind. Right now and for the rest of this weekend, I'm Malia Rose, journalism major at NYU.

After taking longer than I needed to in the shower, I pad down to the TV room where my parents are watching a cheesy Tyler Perry movie. One that I've managed to miss out of the Tyler Perry verse. I squeeze in between them, and they make room for me while chuckling at my childish ways.

"How was the flight hun?" mom asks, caressing my shoulder.

"It was fine. How are you doing?" I look up at her as she reads my eyes, understanding that this question holds more that I let on. It means 'have you seen the doctor? Are you sick?', but I know she'll neither confirm or deny anything.

"I'm fine as peach, darling. Are you going to get your stew?" She brushes off the question like she always does, shuffling a bit in the couch.

"Soon."

"So how's New York?" dad chimes in.

"Cold." I forcefully laugh, hoping that'll answer his question. "I'm a bit hungry so I'll grab some stew." I excuse myself from this conversation that seems to be going south.
When I'm out of sight, I exhale, releasing the tension that was building up in me. This doesn't feel right, I seriously need to say something or cope with this much better than I am now. Maybe I'll tell them over the weekend, but I don't think it's a smart choice to make that decision while I'm eating the world's best Frogmore stew.

Oh boy, what the heck do I do now?