Chapter Twenty-Four
Twenty-Four
“It’s insane. Getting into that thing, no engine.”
With every passing day, it hurt just a bit less, not like knives in my ribs or fire in my lungs. Now it was more like… pressure, a weird heaviness I carried the way I had my bag, or a random headache. Or a vivid dream that comes unwanted, flashing during a pretty good night’s sleep.
About reliving ghosts: I started preparing for the visit to the airfield.
Told Adam to bring something warm, and maybe take some magnesium so he doesn’t collapse in front of me.
I looked at all the black-and-white photos I had been receiving from my now-not-so-secret admirers, the picture now hanging proudly across my bed so that it would be the first thing I saw after waking up, and remembered to hug my dad before we left tomorrow morning.
In the end, the most love you get is not from those speaking through music, or jokes, or making beautiful promises: sometimes it’s from the ones who say the least.
While going down memory lane, another one my brain must have completely erased, struck me: Flight mood.
For a moment, I couldn’t put my finger on what it meant or what it was, until it clicked.
I took my phone, opened my folders with music, and there it was, hiding in plain sight, five playlists under @PChinaski’s “New songs for you”.
Flight mood. My playlist. The one I used to tune into before entering the cockpit: energetic, upbeat, a random mix of rock and pop tunes, from AC/DC to Beyoncé’s “Formation”.
I plugged in my earbuds and went through the whole playlist twice.
It was a weird, almost nauseating feeling of unease and butterflies in my stomach all at the same time, like my body couldn’t decide whether I wasn’t ready for this or if this was happiness.
One thing I was sure of: the playlist, after all that happened, was incomplete.
I needed a tune to bring my two worlds together, something that was mine and something that reminded me of that chapter.
Because he was a chapter, as he called it, one painfully mine, and I still felt it all.
So I took a deep breath, and I grabbed my phone again.
Me:
Any chance any of your musical protagonists wrote something not entirely depressing?
Five, ten minutes passed when I saw the familiar dots on the screen.
Paul?:
Probably not. All drunk and/or depressed, sorry. But John Mayer did a few live gigs with Ed Sheeran; not my style, but I’d give it a go.
Me:
You might want to update your playlists one day. Any recommendations?
Paul?:
Didn’t record it for any music apps, but check this on YouTube: [link to “Don’t” John Mayer this vertigo was overpowering.
Did Adam really feel like this when he came here?
I made it to the washroom, barely making it to the sink, when I couldn’t control the nausea anymore.
I leaned against the cold tiles, breathing in short bursts, feeling as though I was falling, as if the ground was slipping from beneath me. Shit.
I didn’t know if it was the airfield, or all the feelings, or simply sickness from the greasy food Adam was feeding me on the way here.
After I was done, I looked in the mirror one last time, dried my face with a bathroom towel, made sure my breath didn’t kill, and pieced myself back together to return to Adam.
Turned out he was one smart guy to bring a stash of ginger ales: that gingery kick and over-the-top sugar content were exactly what I needed to pump up my energy levels and regain, at least some, clarity.
But it was time to go. One small step, one short visit—and no flying—at a time.
“You see, sis, I’ve been coming prepared like this for the past decade, since Mom and Dad first forced me to come here. That Stanford brain is not to be underestimated,” said my brother, who still wore pants with stains from last week’s pizza.
After we came back home, Adam told Dad about his extraordinary ginger ale rescue mission at least three times, while adding drama to each new story. I went straight to bed, curled under the sheets, turned on a random “Jungle rain” sound mix on my phone, and slept like a log for ten hours straight.
I forgot to text Paul, but told myself he was busy enough not to notice.