Oopsie Daisy

Chapter 3 - Safely on the Ground

Chapter 3: Safely on the ground

Everybody has that one secret in life that they would never tell a soul. Solely because it’s embarrassing to them and they fear people would laugh at them for it. Without permission these secrets can slip out and you know all you can do is wait for the moment of reaction as you become controlled by a paralysing fear.

 Sometimes there is no need for this, the people told react in a way you never thought possible and you find yourself feeling comforted, a pleasurable sense of relief washing throughout every single cell in your body – uniting and tying trust into a pretty little bow.

And sometimes, the moment of reaction is exactly what you feared. The person told takes one of two pathways into a labyrinth of awkwardness and vulnerability. The path left is silence, and every movement you make is another twist around a corner for them. They will watch and survey you, to find their way out the maze with false understanding.  

On the other hand is laughter, a path so heavy despite how weightless the sound is. Your secrecy becomes their amusement which in turn becomes your torture.

But no matter which pathway is taken, they will both always come out the same exit, with one subconscious state they cannot avoid; upmost judgement.

Immediately after he had spoken I could sense that he would fit into the second category. I didn’t know this stranger so I could never expect him to understand a person like me, especially without knowing what I was like.

I kept my eyes glued to the window, thinking that if I pretended not to hear what he had just said then maybe the moment would vanish and I could stand up and leave.

A male in his late twenties or early thirties drove a small white truck into view. From the line of four carts attached to the rear of the vehicle, it was easy to see that he was the baggage handler. For me though that wasn’t what I saw him as, more so an opportunity; he was a distraction, something to focus on instead of the situation at hand.

I stared at him, concentrating on his characteristics. Multiple strands of blonde hair splayed across his forehead and curled upwards on top of his yellow halo of a hardhat. Thick grey earmuffs swallowed his ears in a cocoon of protection to drown out the intrusive sounds of the aircrafts either landing or taking off. My eyes trailed downwards to his slim torso which sported a thin PVC waistcoat.

Alike the hat, it was in a neon colour (this time orange). It occurred to me that what he wore was for none other than safety reasons, and would definitely win no awards for fashion outfit of the year.

As the man continued driving, his waistcoat steadily grew brighter. Every second that went by made my eyes want to close fraction by fraction as the light persistently developed but I kept them forced wide open. I was desperate not to turn and face the stranger sitting next to me. His humour at my expense was not something I wanted to witness and so I refused to be deterred from my distraction. I needed to slip away from the reality I was in, even if that meant acting almost like a new born stalker and study this mans every detail.

I trained my eyes on his face, examining it as best I could from the distance as he passed by my window of the plane. His facial features seemed rough, with a wide nose and deep set eyes. His full lips which had seemed relaxed at first pulled into a grimace and my eyebrows furrowed momentarily at the sight. Had I been looking in his direction I would have seen the direct patch of sunlight he was about to drive into.

Light exploded in an array of directions and lopsided angles as it bounced off of the gleaming metal. My eyes immediately brimmed with water and I squeezed them shut, turning to shield my face with my hands, though not before I caught a glimpse of an inked drawing.