When In Cuba H.S.

Grey - 2

My parents cried when they dropped us off. I did too. I don't really know why though. I wasn't going to miss them all that much. I wasn't overly scared either. The only reason I could think of to explain the tears was change. I had always been uncomfortable with it. Maybe uncomfortable isn't the word for it. I just didn't like it. I didn't like the lack of control or the fact that I had no idea what was to come.

My mother squeezed me tighter and whispered something about, "safe travels," and "I love you." I had not been particularly fond of her for a while. I never really was; but it felt more strained than it should have to return her words. I did it anyway and she smiled. My dad and I were much closer. He had taken the day before I left off to spend time with me. As much as I tried to shut people out, I never could with him. He could always force a smile no matter how much I frowned.

"Ok baby, you are gonna have a good time with your sister. I want you to use this time to the best of your ability. Promise me you will try?" He used the same tone as Aiden did except with a little more... patience? Compassion maybe? I was trying. Not consistently, but I was. "No I am gonna spend a shit-ton of money and time not trying. Thanks for reminding me of the plan." He chuckled at that but I could still see the uneasiness behind his smile. "Come on, I already know you are hilarious. Be serious for a moment." I was about to come back with another sarcastic reply followed up by something to soothe his worry but a sniffle to my right caught my attention. My mother was still crying? "Ok Papi, I promise to try to have a good time. I love you, we have to go."

Aiden gave them each one last hug while I waited by the sliding doors. We checked in our shared bag quickly. Well, Aiden checked it in while I picked at my nail polish and struggled to remember if I put on deodorant that morning. I tried to discretely tuck my hands under my armpits and then covered my mouth with a fake cough so that I could have a sniff. I had remembered.

As much as I loved traveling, I hated airports. They were claustrophobic when busy and a void of terrifying unknown when not. I hadn't always been paranoid. I don't know that I am exceptionally so now either. But I would sometimes be hit with thoughts of mysterious danger. I chalked that up to my mother's constant retelling of tragedies from the internet. I suppose she liked to escape there too.

My father, on the other hand, retreated inside his own mind. I did that quite often as well; got lost in the possibilities, options, adding variables, rehashing conversations from the past and ones that had no chance of happening. The thing I spent the most time doing in my head was regretting.

Regret was coupled with self loathing. The worst part is that I knew it was irrational; to still feel guilt for talking when the teacher told me not to, and for my subsequent time out in kindergarten, was ridiculous. Yet every time I thought about it, or any mistake I had made in my life, I hated myself a little more. It was part of what made me so... sensitive? I had always felt deeply, about anything and everything really. It was only recently that I stopped showing it. Well, it felt like a recent change but I couldn't pinpoint when the shift had occurred. I couldn't be bothered anymore. I couldn't force myself to try when I didn't want to. I just couldn't- in a general sense.

"Lena, shoes off. Hurry up, you're holding up the line." There it was. The sound of frustration. I had messed up again; disappointed her in some small way that managed to make another crack in her facade of optimism.

I hated airport security too. I always ended up getting a pat down from some old, crusty man. Today was no different. I was pretty sure that men weren't supposed to pat down women but none of the TSA agents seemed the least bit concerned. His hair was a dirty grey color and thinning. He seemed to be giving "special attention" to my thigh area. The longer it went on, the more intense my gaze on him was. I'd like to believe that my glare accelerated his hair loss. His eyes seemed tired, much like my own. Yet there was a brightness behind them as they locked onto my chest- one that my own lacked. I stared ahead till he finished, retreating to my thoughts once again. I wondered who I would be stuck next to on the flight. Would they be interesting? Or silent? I suppose the two weren't mutually exclusive. Perhaps we would both be interesting to each other and neither of us would know about how special the other was because we'd remain quiet. Or maybe I would have an empty seat next to me and I wouldn't have to think about it at all. The man stepped back from me and gave me what I assumed was meant as a polite smile. I didn't return it, instead grabbing my carry on and shoes, I stepped around him.

"Ready?" I wasn't, "Yeah, let's go."

Well I guess that is Chapter Two!