The Aftermath

Chapter 2 - Or Maybe Not

Chapter 2 - Or Maybe Not

⠀⠀⠀⠀My Dad raised me to be tough and strong but when I step out of the airport and into the crowded car park, I feel like nothing is more appealing than curling up in a ball and dissolving under the burning sun.

⠀⠀⠀⠀I pull my sunglasses down my face to shield my tired eyes from the blinding light. I had no idea the heat was going to be so intense and when I glance down at my light denim jeans, I instantly regret my outfit choice. A couple of people frown at my attire when I scan my surroundings - everyone around me wears shorts, t-shirts and flip flops.

⠀⠀⠀⠀I really don't fit in here.

⠀⠀⠀⠀My throat tightens and I stay rooted to the spot amidst a crowd of bubbly tourists who pour out of the airport entrance. Though an old women's backpack presses against my stomach and I am sandwiched between a smiley German couple, I couldn't feel more alone.

⠀⠀⠀⠀I ache to be back home in rainy Oakdale with my outrageous family and loveable best friend. Before I got on the plane, I sobbed until my eyes felt like they had been scrubbed raw with sandpaper. But still a stubborn part of my mind is convinced that they aren't really gone and they still wait for me on the cruise ship in Bali.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Somewhere in this godforsaken parking lot Mr Manson is waiting to take me home and it makes my whole body is fill with dread and anxiety. I am beyond grateful to this mysterious family for letting me live with them but their home will never be the same as my home back in Oakdale.

⠀⠀⠀⠀My breathing becomes shallow as the singeing thoughts bounce around my head. I had never been this terrified in my life.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Sometimes life throws some rough shit at you Sierra," Dad's comforting words blare abruptly in my ears and I am reminded of the time when I came home crying on my first day of school because one of the popular girls tripped me up in front of everyone. "But you've just got to take it on the balls and get on with it because you've only got one chance in this world."

⠀⠀⠀⠀A small smile slowly tugs on my face as I remember Mum hitting him with a tea towel and scolding him for swearing. After he apologised to her, she hit him again for implying that I, the little four year old girl I was, had "balls".

⠀⠀⠀⠀As I wipe away a stray tear  that leaked from my eyes, a burst of determination releases in my veins and my grip around my suitcase tightens.

⠀⠀⠀⠀I needed to be strong and stay positive, no matter how much I wanted to breakdown. The Mansons would never see me upset, I'd make sure of it. They didn't deserve to deal with my misery after all they were doing for me.

⠀⠀⠀⠀I read the text from Mr Manson again, a little less distractedly than when I had first read it when I was in customs.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Hi Sierra! It's Mr Manson here. I am parked in section C7 with a silver Range Rover and I'm ready to pick you up whenever you're ready. I hope you had a great flight.

⠀⠀⠀⠀And without another look back, I begin my journey through the maze of cars under the crystal clear afternoon sky.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀* * * * *

⠀⠀⠀⠀It takes a lot longer than expected to find Mr Mansons silver Range Rover in section C7. The car park is about as vast as a country and I feel truly worn out when I eventually approach a man, I assume to be Mr Manson himself.

⠀⠀⠀⠀The man I see leans against a shiny four wheel drive and is dressed a lot smarter than me; a pale polo shirt, board shorts and tennis shoes. His hair is gelled back away from his face which reveals his furrowed eyebrows. He holds an iPhone to his ear, talking animatedly to someone over the line.