Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I didn’t turn around to wave at Una because I knew if I did, I’d never have got through those gates, but the moment I did, the reality hit me like a bucket of ice-cold water to the face. There were people everywhere and there was no avoiding them. There was no avoiding anything.
I looked up because that’s what Mairéad said to do if I found myself feeling claustrophobic so that I didn’t see the crowds and imagined the clouds instead. But all I saw were bright lights, which made me feel even more lightheaded. Then I scanned the area around me and found my exit points. I memorised the signs in my head. I could get out if I needed to. I could get out and phone Una and she’d turn around and come back and get me, I knew she would.
I pulled out my checklist from my pocket. My to-do list stared back at me. I crossed out what I’d done and scanned what I still had to do.
Get into Una’s car.
Get to airport.
Get out of Una’s car.
Avoid shuttle bus, walk to airport.
Find exit points.
Avoid drink even if Una gets one.
Get to Departure Lounge.
Say goodbye to Una (don’t let her snotty cries touch my face or clothes).
Security bit: bags, etc., on conveyor belt system.
Find flights screen.
Find flight gates.
Find nearest café.
Pinpoint toilets.
Have a cup of tea (optional, avoid if possible).
Read my book.
Fifteen minutes before departure gates, go to toilet (allow an extra ten minutes for OCD).
Sit back down if time (no more tea).
Wait to be called.
* Niall’s gift *
Niall’s gift, I’d put it in my handbag because I didn’t want to have to dig around my rucksack for it. I was going to open it in the car but I’d been so distracted by my own thoughts I’d forgotten all about it. I’d open it once I’d found the café.
When I saw the security bit, I ticked it off my list and made my way towards the lady nearest to me who was stood on the other side of a conveyor belt. Then I focused on the task in front of me, and nothing else, and put my stuff in the tray.
‘And your shoes, please,’ the lady interrupted my mission.
‘My shoes?’
‘They have to go in.’
‘Why?’
‘If you could put them in the tray, you can have them straight back once they’re through.’
‘But I’m not wearing socks.’
She shrugged and I felt sick at the thought of my bare feet on the ground where so many shitty shoes, and gross feet, had been. I knew what that meant. It meant I’d have to wipe my feet before putting my shoes back on otherwise the insides of my shoes would be dirty from my dirty feet and then I’d have to wipe them too. That was how my mind worked and it was exhausting.
I took my shoes off, put them in the tray and made my way towards a man who was standing on the other side of the security walk-through. It had no reason to beep yet I still convinced myself it would. And I didn’t really care if it did because all I could think about was the fact I didn’t have any shoes on and I needed to clean my feet as soon as possible, which I did by the way, in front of everyone, because I couldn’t be bothered to try and clean the insides of my shoes afterwards.
It wasn’t hard to find the flight screens because they were everywhere. People were stood around them searching for their gate numbers, but luckily for me the screens were high up, which was the point, I suppose, so that everyone could see where they needed to go without pushing into each other. I didn’t know what I’d imagined, some sort of cattle market maybe, everyone squashed together, swaying from left to right as they tried to find their destination.
It wasn’t like that though. Everyone gave each other space, though it wasn’t enough space for me. I needed no one to be there. I needed it to be just me. I should have gone first class. First class had space. I should have hired a private jet and then I could have flown on my own, had my own toilet, my own everything.
I stared up at the screen. Gate 2. I was flying from gate 2 . I was going to die. I was going to die a horrible death.
I still had time. I reached for my phone from my back pocket and dialled Una’s number.
‘Pearl? Are you OK? What’s wrong?’
‘It’s gate two.’
‘What is?’
‘I’m flying from gate two.’
‘OK great, you’ve found your gate, have you ticked it off your list?’
‘Two is death.’
‘What?’
‘Two. It means death. I’m going to die. Something is going to happen.’
‘Nothing is going to happen, Pearl.’
‘You need to come back.’
‘I’m on the motorway.’
‘Turn around.’
‘You can’t turn around on a motorway.’
‘You have to.’
‘Pearl, take a breath, think of?—’
‘Don’t fucking say it.’
‘You say it, I’ll just breathe with you.’
‘Number two is on the raft.’
‘That’s great, Pearl.’ She soothed down the phone at me.
‘It’s floating by on the river.’
‘Good.’
‘The river is red.’
‘OK.’
‘It’s blood.’
‘It’s not blood, Pearl, it’s just your fear, it’s being washed away. Where are you?’
‘I’m on the riverbank.’
‘Good.’
‘I’m trees, trees, trees ?—’
‘That’s it.’
‘Trees, trees, trees.’
‘Is Jack’s turbo penis on the raft?’
‘What?’
‘Is it big and throbbing waiting for you?’
‘Shut up.’
‘It worked though. Have you found the café yet?’
‘No.’
‘Go and find it and text me when you get there you flipping nutter.’
* * *
The café was exactly where Una said it would be, the closest one to the departure gates, and the toilets were just across from it. I texted Una to let her know I’d made it and then ordered a cup of tea and a cereal bar – peanut butter and honey – because I wouldn’t have to use any cutlery for that. I chose the table in the corner so that I was far enough away from anyone ordering but close enough to see how busy it might get so I could make my exit if I needed to. I was happy to stand up and wait if I had to.
I reached into the side pocket of my bag and pulled out four wipes – one for the table, which had probably already been cleaned but I couldn’t be sure, one for my chair (have you ever looked at a chair before you’ve sat down on it? Take a look next time), and two for my cup. I wiped the handle first and then used a fresh one for the sides, because not everyone holds the handle of a cup when they pick it up. I finished off by sanitising my hands.
I was just about to pull out my book and start reading to lose myself when the sound of high-pitched laughter rang out from behind me, followed by a group of women who entered the cafe. They all had pink fluffy ears on their heads except for the bride-to-be, who was clad in a white dress that was cut to her thighs and a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs that dangled from one wrist. On her back, I could just about make out the words smudged in bright red lipstick.
Runaway Bride.
And then it happened. A sneeze: a loud, uncovered, splattering sneeze from one of the hens. I watched as she failed to cover her mouth, as she continued to laugh and cackle with the rest of the group, how none of them flinched or seemed bothered by it at all, by the fact that they had just been sneezed over. That it would be clinging to their clothes, their skin, their hair.
The thing about me is I can feel a sneeze land on me even though technically I can’t. I’d seen a video of someone sneezing. I knew the facts. A sneeze shoots out at sixty miles per hour, it can travel up to twenty-six feet. And I was well within that range.
I’d thought about it happening. I’d thought about what I could do, how much I would need to do to make myself feel clean. I had enough antibacterial wipes to wipe my whole body and my head but what good would it really do? Mairéad had said the best way to get over it was to be in it, which meant I had to keep someone else’s snot on me and not wash it off. The thought was beyond unbearable. I fumbled for my antibacterial gel and squeezed it over my hands just to feel sane and then I stood up, put my bag on my shoulders and headed for the toilets.
I used the baby-changing cubicle. It was big and there was plenty of room for my bag and to take off what I needed, which would have been everything by the way, but that would have meant wiping down the baby-changing area to lay my clothes down and I didn’t have time (or the mental strength) for that.
So instead, I worked strategically. I started with my head. My hair was up in a bun so it was easy enough to rub over it, then the back of my neck. I took off my coat and wiped over the shoulders (the table and chair would have protected most of me). I ran the wipe over the arms and sleeves and then pulled out the antibacterial face wipes that I’d ordered online (six packs, because they didn’t sell them at O’Callaghan’s) and cleaned my face.
By the time I had finished, I was ready to get out and back to my seat (a different one, of course). But as I was leaving, I realised I’d put my bag on my shoulders after the sneeze, which meant it had transferred from my shoulders to my bag and then back to my shoulders from my bag (if you’re exhausted think how it is for me).
So I turned around, took it all off, and started it all over again.