A story I recently wrote for a writing contest. Just wanted to know what others thought of it smile
I snapped the phone shut angrily and took shuddering breaths. The taxi driver looked at me in the rear view, but I avoided his gaze as I used a single finger to try and wipe the involuntary tears escaping my eyes in an attempt to not smudge my makeup. The foreign driver again checked the mirror,
“Are you OK?” he asked in a thick accent. I shook my head,
“Yeah, fine,” I answered hoarsely. I cleared my throat and then the cab was silent for the rest of the ride.
The airport wasn’t busy, that’s a benefit of a 3 am flight. I thanked the driver for helping me with my luggage and left him a healthy tip. He wished me a good morning before pulling away. I entered the terminal building. I always preferred the airport at night I looked for my line but realized it wasn’t open yet. So I took a seat on a bench and leaned my head up against the wall, closing my eyes. I thought moving out would be different. I always pictured the day I left to a college halfway across the country. In my fantasy it was day time, and my family was here with me. Everyone was smiling, hugging, wishing me luck. Then when I would get to customs, and they could come no further, my mom would break down, not wanting her baby to leave. Then my dad would have to support her and I would wave one last time before moving on to my gate.
But that wasn’t going to happen; that was clear 2 years ago.
Instead, here I was, alone at the airport at 3 o’clock in the morning. My cell phone started ringing again. I picked it up reluctantly,
“What?” came my irritated greeting,
“Don’t snap at me, young lady,” was my father’s annoyed reply,
“That’s the problem; I’m not young anymore!” I said loudly, tired of having this argument over and over again.
“You are only 20; you don’t know anything about the world. It’s not safe to go to college 3 provinces away.” I almost growled in exasperation at my father’s utter ignorance.
“I don’t know anything? Well, at this rate, I never will. You’ve held off my future for almost 3 years. I’m sick of it, and I’m sick of you!” a passerby looked at me curiously as he walked.
“Samantha, I am your father. I raised you, I protected you and I’m not letting you go. Show some respect. Now, I’m coming to get you.”
“Don’t waste your time. My line is open now.”
“Don’t you get into tha-” I hung up, an older couple sitting at the small Tim Horton’s restaurant watched me with sympathy as I grabbed my bags and entered the line, near the back since it had filled quite rapidly while I was on the phone.
By the time I had gotten my seat and boarding pass it was almost an hour and a half later. I power walked towards the hall leading to the customs gate. After I got through there, I would be safe. My heart dropped when I heard my name,
“Samantha Ranker! Get your a** back here!” every other patron in earshot looked at me when I cast a worried glance back at my father. I walked faster, and eventually broke into a run. Customs was just ahead now. I spotted a luckily empty line. “Sam!” my father’s voice echoed down the hall towards me, attracting the gazes of more passengers. I took off my carry on and threw it onto the belt. The security guard waved me through the metal detector and thankfully nothing beeped. I grabbed my belongings and looked back. I jumped and drew a sharp breath. My dad was now being held by two guards to stop him from coming through the gates after me. As he struggled my stomach twisted into several knots.
“Sammy, please, stay at home.” His eyes glazed over, as did my own,
“Sorry, dad, but I have to this.”
“I love you,” he said quietly.
“I love you, too, dad.” I turned before he could see my tears. Despite my sadness, I was also relieved. It hadn’t been exactly how I had pictured it, but it had been easier than I had expected.
The little girl my father knew had been going and going for the past 3 years, and now she was finally gone.
Going, Going, Gone
I snapped the phone shut angrily and took shuddering breaths. The taxi driver looked at me in the rear view, but I avoided his gaze as I used a single finger to try and wipe the involuntary tears escaping my eyes in an attempt to not smudge my makeup. The foreign driver again checked the mirror,
“Are you OK?” he asked in a thick accent. I shook my head,
“Yeah, fine,” I answered hoarsely. I cleared my throat and then the cab was silent for the rest of the ride.
The airport wasn’t busy, that’s a benefit of a 3 am flight. I thanked the driver for helping me with my luggage and left him a healthy tip. He wished me a good morning before pulling away. I entered the terminal building. I always preferred the airport at night I looked for my line but realized it wasn’t open yet. So I took a seat on a bench and leaned my head up against the wall, closing my eyes. I thought moving out would be different. I always pictured the day I left to a college halfway across the country. In my fantasy it was day time, and my family was here with me. Everyone was smiling, hugging, wishing me luck. Then when I would get to customs, and they could come no further, my mom would break down, not wanting her baby to leave. Then my dad would have to support her and I would wave one last time before moving on to my gate.
But that wasn’t going to happen; that was clear 2 years ago.
Instead, here I was, alone at the airport at 3 o’clock in the morning. My cell phone started ringing again. I picked it up reluctantly,
“What?” came my irritated greeting,
“Don’t snap at me, young lady,” was my father’s annoyed reply,
“That’s the problem; I’m not young anymore!” I said loudly, tired of having this argument over and over again.
“You are only 20; you don’t know anything about the world. It’s not safe to go to college 3 provinces away.” I almost growled in exasperation at my father’s utter ignorance.
“I don’t know anything? Well, at this rate, I never will. You’ve held off my future for almost 3 years. I’m sick of it, and I’m sick of you!” a passerby looked at me curiously as he walked.
“Samantha, I am your father. I raised you, I protected you and I’m not letting you go. Show some respect. Now, I’m coming to get you.”
“Don’t waste your time. My line is open now.”
“Don’t you get into tha-” I hung up, an older couple sitting at the small Tim Horton’s restaurant watched me with sympathy as I grabbed my bags and entered the line, near the back since it had filled quite rapidly while I was on the phone.
By the time I had gotten my seat and boarding pass it was almost an hour and a half later. I power walked towards the hall leading to the customs gate. After I got through there, I would be safe. My heart dropped when I heard my name,
“Samantha Ranker! Get your a** back here!” every other patron in earshot looked at me when I cast a worried glance back at my father. I walked faster, and eventually broke into a run. Customs was just ahead now. I spotted a luckily empty line. “Sam!” my father’s voice echoed down the hall towards me, attracting the gazes of more passengers. I took off my carry on and threw it onto the belt. The security guard waved me through the metal detector and thankfully nothing beeped. I grabbed my belongings and looked back. I jumped and drew a sharp breath. My dad was now being held by two guards to stop him from coming through the gates after me. As he struggled my stomach twisted into several knots.
“Sammy, please, stay at home.” His eyes glazed over, as did my own,
“Sorry, dad, but I have to this.”
“I love you,” he said quietly.
“I love you, too, dad.” I turned before he could see my tears. Despite my sadness, I was also relieved. It hadn’t been exactly how I had pictured it, but it had been easier than I had expected.
The little girl my father knew had been going and going for the past 3 years, and now she was finally gone.
