3. Zara
Zara
“What the fuck have I got myself into?” I mutter as I refasten my seatbelt like the flight attendant requested.
I lean up and look out the little oval window to stare at my home for the next two weeks.
Mountains upon mountains of snow covered tops fill my view, and among excitement there are also zings of fear. My sister's view echoes in my head.
Are ye aff your heid? Black people don’t ski, Zara! Yer gonnae get yerself killed, dafty.
Those words have me straightening my back in defiance. Childish as it may be, telling me not to do something usually has the opposite effect. Like now. My sister and our shared group of friends have gone for a wild two weeks in the sun while me, myself and I have opted for a ski trip for one.
My wee maw was right, my stubbornness might be the death of me one day.
I smile at the thought of her wee face and think of the stories I'll be able to tell her when I come home. Even if the skiing is a complete bust I have two weeks to reflect and think about what I want to do with my life. I love my family, but living in Glasgow all my days isn’t for me.
I want more from life and I’m not going to get that if I don’t venture out.
So here’s to step one towards the new me.
I hope I don’t live to regret it.
“Ladies and gentleman, please fasten your seatbelts, we are coming in for our landing, welcome to Northern Cape Airport...”
The flight attendant continues her speech, and though I should be listening, my mind is reeling.
“Here we go. I pep-talk under my breath as my buckle locks. “You got this. Just get your things, get to the hotel, and just freaking live a little. C’mon, Hen, gie it laldi.”
“Thank you for your help.”
I call after the man who just dragged all my skiing stuff to my room.
Not all heroes wear capes. I sit on the edge of my bed and take in my space.
It looks cosy enough, double bed for me to starfish, a chest of drawers beside the window and a matching wardrobe along with my own ensuite. Yep, this will do nicely.
I get up with a groan and take a big stretch while walking to my window. I know I need to unpack, but the slopes are calling me. That’s why I’m here after all. I straighten my back, discarding my family's doubt from my mind.
“What do they know? They barely leave Scotland for fucks sake.”
Other than snowpants, I’m basically ready to boost. My gloves are in my pocket and I still have this itchy monstrosity of a hat on my head. It would be daft to take it all off, unpack and then get it all back on again. Aye fuck that.
“So that settles it,” I shrug, scurrying to my things like a giddy schoolgirl.
On my way out the door though, it fads. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and have to go back to get a better look.
“Jeezo.”
A blob of electric blue stares back at me. The two piece puffy snowsuit I thought was perfect, is not at all flattering.
I press my lips between my teeth to stop from giggling.
“You look like an estranged member of the teletubbies” I shake my head, but turn my rear to the mirror. “But your rump still looks tasty,” I smirk.