The Love of My Family

(1) The Love of My Family

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"Alright, so when is my plane leaving?" I asked my adopted mother, trying not to sound like the most depressed person ever.

She smiled at me through her tears. "At three o'clock."

I peered around the airport, sighing. LAX was always too packed for comfort. "But it's only two-forty-five, right now."

My dad, beside us, laughed at me. "Honey, you've never been on a plane before. We're actually really late. If you're mother would be able to say goodbye coherently, you could get on your plane."

I glanced up at him. "You're not gonna miss me, Dad?"

I truly would miss him. And my mom. She might have been the one who encouraged me to go to France, meet a new family, but I didn't like leaving her alone.

He ruffled my hair affectionately. "Of course I will, kiddo."

I scowled at him, patting my hair down. Then I took my mom's hands. "Are you going to be okay alone, Mom?" My mother forced a smile. Dad was leaving the day after tomorrow on another business trip and wouldn't be back for another two weeks. I, on the other hand, would be gone for the rest of the summer. Three-and-a-half lonely months.

"Yes, honey. Now go to your plane," she said, contradicting her words with the tight embrace I was being held in. "I'll see you soon. Maybe I'll come visit."

Tears welled up in my eyes as she released me. This was almost as bad as it had been to say goodbye to my best friend, Angie, yesterday. We had been hugging and crying, until our other friend, Mark (gay, thank God), had shown up. Then it had been us three idiots crying in a circle while the neighbors watched.

I hugged my mom again tightly. "I'm really gonna miss you, Mom. I'll call you when I arrive." I turned to my dad. "You too, Daddy." I only called him that sometimes.

"Adrian Bonner, Joseph Farhorn, and Jacqueline Marquez. Flight 215 to France. Please report to gate 21A for boarding."

"That's me!" I squealed. "They put me on the big mic! That's so cool! I heard that people in bathrooms can hear it. So that means while everyone is peeing they can - "

My dad pushed me away, laughing. "Honey, hurry."

I hugged them tightly and blew a kiss, running off, following the airport signs to the gate.

When I finally found it, I skidded up to the desk through the empty seating area. "Hi," I said breathlessly to the attendant behind the desk. "I'm Jackie Marquez." I fished out my ticket, hoisting my bag higher on my shoulder.

"They were waiting for you, miss," the pretty blond said reprovingly, with a British accent. She stamped my pass. "Here you go."

There was a dark tunnel-like thing waiting before me. "Erm, I'm supposed to go through that?"

She smiled. "Yes. That will take you onto the plane."

"Right," I said uncertainly. I stepped in.

The attendant behind me muttered, "Americans!"

I giggled. Flight attendants are listed as number one for people who hate their jobs. I bit my lip; I think randomly when I'm nervous.

Making my way through the darkened passage, I found a light brightening my way. I ran through it, hoisting my gorgeous new bag higher, and rounded the corner.

Another young male flight attendant was waiting impatiently, tapping his foot, for me.

"Oh!" I ran forward, eager to make him stop his tapping. "Sorry! I had no idea you were waiting for me."

He cocked an eyebrow. "We weren't, miss. We were waiting for him." He pointed behind me.

I glanced back. A man was carting a few boxes, wrapped in plastic.

I blushed. "Well. Here's my ticket." I handed it to him.

Man. I thought these people were supposed to be all smiles and stuff. Looks like not.

He stamped it, ripped it, and pointed down the far left hallway. "Your seat is down that way. 32C."

I smiled, trying to be polite. "Thanks." I headed down the aisle, glancing up at the numbers, then down at my ticket. Eventually, I found my seat, next to the window. I smiled again, happy that I would be able to see the view clearly. I slid into the seat, and settled in, pushing my beautiful black-and-beige striped bag from FOREVER 21 (the best store, ever) under the seat in front of me.

It was 5 hours up to New York. That was a lot of time to pass. I lurched down suddenly, digging in my bag and pulled out my iPod and a book, getting comfortable in my seat again.

There was a cough on the overhead mic, then a voice came over. I strained to listen, frowning at how quickly they spoke.

"This is your pilot speaking, and we're ready to take off. We have beautiful weather today and it looks like we're going to be landing in New York City at 4 PM, eastern time. Settle down, and prepare for takeoff."

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