Empty Closet

Untitled Part 2

After countless dramatic tantrums and lots of begging I finally convinced my mom to let me stay home for a little while longer before being shipped off. We agreed on half the summer because mom kept telling me, 'the sooner you get to Cathy's the faster you'll make friends. Wouldn't it be nice to know someone before school starts?' This was her only valid point. I held on to what little hope I had left that she might change her mind, I was super wrong. She's dead set on this new and abrupt arrangement.

My last week at home was miserable and painful. On my final day I said goodbye to the only life I'd ever known. I throw my suitcase, duffel bag and backpack in the backseat, then slump into the passenger's seat. Mom's trying to be supportive, but I can see right through her. We sit in uncomfortable silence all on the way to the airport. I watch out my window as my city flashes past my eyes for the last time.

My stomach twists in knots, I move sluggishly behind my mom towards the gate. I wrap my arms around her tightly, it's my last ray of hope if I never let go of her the plane will leave without me. But she twists and turns slightly out of my clench as a voice chimes from the overhead speakers, "this is the final boarding call for flight 1313 to Lake Mills Iowa. All passengers need to be aboard at this time."

Mom places her small hands on my shoulders. "Betsy you have to get on the plane. Please call me as soon as you get to Cathy's. I love you. Go." She takes a few steps back.

"I love you mom," I mumble. I wave bye as tears began to roll down my face. I stare at her saving a mental picture, thin sandy blonde hair rests on the base of her neck in a messy bun. Her eyes the same as mine, tears rolling out of them. She lifts her waif-like arm, places her palm to her lips and blows me a kiss.

Walking down the hallway in the sky was fun as a child. This time it feels like I'm walking death row. My legs wobble under me with each step I take. Stepping into the aircraft the stale recycled air fills my aching lungs.

A beautiful flight attendant greets me, "welcome aboard." Her eyes scan to my face, she tilts her head. I shuffle past, moving down the narrow aisle, scanning the numbers and letters under the overhead bins. I stop and glance down at a large man wearing a business suit. He makes no attempt to look, acknowledge or move for me. I roll my eyes and climb over him, harshly shoving my backpack under the seat in front of me then secure my seat belt. I exhale, turn to my left, a little old lady smiles up at me. I watch her mouth move, but all I can hear is buzzing. My chest tightens as if I'm not getting enough oxygen. I start to see spots, I close my eyes, slowly taking in and releasing breaths. A few moments later, the buzzing stops, and I can breathe again. These newly developed panic attacks seem to be getting shorter, that's a good sign. I sigh heavily leaning forward to watch the plane push away from the terminal. Engines ignite rumbling the plane alive. My dry eyes close.

At cruising altitude, the seat belt sign dings, my eyes open quickly without hesitation. A guardian angel disguised as a flight attendant appears, plopping open my tray table with the snap of a finger. The large man next to me grunts and moves his knee. She gently places down a napkin and two pre-packaged Oreo's. My eyes dart up, she winks. "Thank you," I whisper. That's all the energy I have at this moment to be polite. She nods then sits a glass of coke next to my cookies. I don't question any of it, I simply inhale the cookies as if they were a T-bone steak.

Back home no one thought about fashion except me. Something about luxury clothing calms me. I'd spend hours at the library reading and looking through magazines. Mom surprised me with a stack of new ones in hopes that they would help me relax on the plane. Bending over I gather them from my backpack and start flipping through them.

Wow, she was right. Four and a half hours later the plane touches down. As we taxi to the gate, I lean around the little old lady next to me to look out the window. This is the largest airport I'd ever seen, well in all honesty it's the only airport I've ever seen. I guess when I was younger, I wasn't to observant about my surroundings.

Shock demises after a few minutes, I have to do something I can't stand around here forever. Taking a few deep breaths, I place my hot pink Jan Sport across my back and pad forward without a clue as to where I'm going. My eyes dart up, trying to understand what all the monitors and signs mean. There's way too many, beads of sweet form along my hairline. I close my eyes taking in a long deep breath and count to three. I open them, a security guard standing near me comes into focus.

Quickly I make an uneven stride towards him waving my arm in the air. "Excuse me can you help me." I stop, he wrinkles his forehead, "can you tell me where to get my suitcase? I just landed and have no idea where to go." Chewing the inside of my cheek, I wait for a respond.

"You're looking for baggage claims?" I nod. "You head down the escalators, take a right and follow the signs." He turns and walks away. I clench my jaw, great more signs. I shake my head and make my way down the escalators as instructed. I watch bags revolve around and around me. Rocking back and forth on my heels, rubbing my hands together.

After what seems like an entirety, I spot mine creeping towards me. I scurry to yank them off the belt, slide my duffel bag over my shoulder and grab the handle of my suite case. Everything around me moves in slow motion, I become numb. Mom didn't give me any instruction except to call her when I get to Cathy's. I'm all alone, where am I supposed to go? More importantly how am I supposed to get there? Something out of the corner of my eye brings me back to reality. A handsome man dressed in a nice suit is holding a sign with my name on it. Tilting my head to the side I purse my lips.

I drag my feet across the shiny floor closer to him, clear my throat. "Um, excuse me I'm Betsy Butler." My voice soft. "Who are you and why are you holding a sign with my name on it?" My eyes dart around I can't make eye contact with him. "How did you know I'd be here?" My words trail off into a mumble.

His deep blue eyes staring at me. "Madam, I'm Mr. Peterson the Wolf's personal driver your aunt sent me for you." He studies my face with concern. "I'm here to take you home." He finishes with a polite smile and a nod.

My eyes frantically drop wishing I was literally going home. "Oh" is all I can say. I wrap my arms tightly around my body trying to control the pain in my chest.

"Do you have all your belongings Miss Butler?" Mr. Peterson's voice brings me back to here and now.

I look up at him. "Please call me Betsy and yes I have it all right here." I give him a half smile, tugging at my bags.

Peterson's hand extends, "may I take your bags."

I step back, "No I got them." My eyes fall to the ground followed by my shoulders.

"OK then Miss Butler," he pauses, "wait I'm sorry Betsy right this way please." I trail behind him through revolving doors. Outside the thick humid air chokes me. Yuck, I already miss the dry air, this is different.

Mr. Peterson leads the way towards the parking lot, I observe people smiling, jumping up and down, clapping their hands. Others wipe their eyes waving good bye. Emotions swirl through the thick air around me. There're people in every direction, yet I'm alone and already homesick. My stomach clenches my insides, my mouth goes dry.

We stop next to a black SUV Peterson extended his hand again. "Betsy may I please take your luggage now?"

I nod, "thank you," releasing my bags to him. "I'll keep this one." Holding on tightly to my hot pink Jan Sport. I twist side to side, my eyes dart to the ground.

Peterson signals. "No problem." He places the bags in the cargo area, turns about face like a soldier and opens the rear door for me. "There's cold water inside, you look thirsty." My head tilts, I look up at him for reassurance. He response with a polite nod, I proceed to climb in.