Fake It 'Til You Make It

|02| The Airport

I was awoken by a tap on my shoulder. Glancing up, I met the golden eyes of a stewardess. Then, looking around, I realized the plane was empty, her and I the only living souls aboard the aircraft.

"I'm sorry to awaken you, but we've landed," she smiled, her voice warm and friendly.

My eyes widened as I attempted to hop from my seat. However, I flushed as I felt a pressure around my stomach, keeping me I place. Hastily, I threw off the buckle and squeezed out of the row of seats, leaving behind a half closed window. I noticed no light flittered through it as the stewardess moved to the side, her eyes crinkling as she smiled wider.

"Thank you," I whispered, reaching up to grab my carry on bag from the overhead bin. Due to what people ridiculed to be an abnormally tall height, I was able to snatch it with ease.

I swung the bag over my shoulder, clinging to it tightly. It was my latest gift from Amelia, a designer bag made of white leather she had saved up for, and I refused to let it out of my sight. It also held my most valued possessions; pictures, camera
makeup, phone, etcetera.

The elderly lady walked in front of me toward the exit. In this moment, as I watched her silver hair sway to and fro down her back, I remembered why I had boarded this plane in the first place. Because no one wanted me. Because he found out. Because my mother hated me.

A tear slid down my cheek as I hurried into the cool little hallway, waving to the little old lady over my shoulder.

Soon enough, I emerged into the airport. Lush carpet cushioned my flats and the flight counter sat to my right. I clutched the strap of my bag tighter, feeling as though my throat was squeezing shut. My heart thudded wildly and I struggled to place one foot in front of the other.

I trudged in a random direction, glancing at the intricate piece of art in the center of black tiles. It shimmered in the artificial light, blues and greens of the twisted glass waving a greeting.

Not many people were in the airport. They appeared in random clusters, some boarding planes and a few scattered at restaurants.

I still couldn't process why I was there in the first place. How could my own mother ship me away? What was my biological father like? Prickles of fear spread through me like a wildfire.

He wouldn't like me, I told myself. Not when my own parents loathed me. How could Dad turn on me? We had such an amazing bond, and he was always there for me.

A tear slipped down my cheek as my phone buzzed in my bag. It's insistent nagging caused me to yank it out and bring it to my ear, not paying attention to the caller I.D. It was probably my biological father asking about picking me up. Mom probably gave my number to him without my consent.

"A-Ada?"

My heart shattered at the pain lacing her voice. "Amelia. Are you okay?"

A strangled sob escaped her and I yearned to fly back to what I once called home to comfort her. "Lia? What's wrong? You can tell me."

"I-I want you to come back. Mom's so emotionally unstable. Dad left and- and I'm scared, Ada."

"I'm sorry," I choked, a lump forming in my throat. I spotted an abandoned bench and plopped myself onto it, staring at the seating area of some Mexican restaurant. "I can't just fly back, Lia. Mom doesn't want me. No one does."

"Ada, don't speak like that! Dad's just- upset. And mom's just stupid. You're my sister, half or not, and I love you."

"I love you, too, sis. Just stay strong."

I could visualize her bobbing her head like she usually did, silently attempting to collect herself for my sake. She felt like she had to be the stronger one, like she had to be my rock all the time. What she didn't realize was that everyone has a breaking point, and I think that was hers. And mine as well.