“I can tell.”
Kids give me a feeling of playfulness. Their souls are filled with innocence that I envy. In a way, I also feel bad for them. They have no idea how cruel this world can be. I pray to God this little girl will always be filled with light and happiness.
Mom bumps her shoulder into mine. “Have you accepted any colleges yet? You haven’t told me yet.”
I have. She might think I’m weird for wanting to pursue a career like this. But deep down, I feel that I’ll do well. I hate the thought of sitting at a desk all day in a business company. I want to help people. I crave to see people move on from their thunderstorms, just like how I am.
“I accepted a college for psychology a while ago,” I say with a proud smile.
Mom opens her mouth to say more when a lady’s voice suddenly announces that the plane is to be boarded. I glance at Mom with excitement. Seeing the look on my face gets a laugh out of her.
“Let’s go.”
Giving the lady my boarding ticket, I walk into the plane and find my seat in a matter of minutes. Mom can sense my nerves as she grips on to my hand when the safety video plays. I wish I had earplugs with me because this video is traumatizing before taking off into the air.
Is this really necessary?
Yes … yes, it is.
It doesn’t mean I like it though. God forbid if anything happens, I wouldn’t remember this video; I would follow what other people were doing while crying.
No, full-on sobbing.
My stomach feels like it’s been left on the ground as the plane catches height and it takes off. I breathe in and out as I close my eyes. The horrible turbulence makes me want to pass out. I relax and let go of Mom’s reddened hand when the trembles die down. She shakes it out while whimpering, and I eye the raw skin. Oops. I guess I had a better grip than I thought.
A few hours into the plane ride, they serve dinner. I learn a new lesson today. I hate airplane food. The combination of all the different foods mixing together in this plane makes me queasy. The only good part of dinner is the bread roll with butter. After dinner is cleared, I open myTwilightbook and start reading.
* * *
“And I thought Canada was hot in the summer,” Mom says while fanning herself.
The air here is fresh. The horns of cars blare all around us. The bright blue sky that I adore is free of clouds.
The hour we’ve been here, I can already feel warmth of welcomeness from the locals. They smile brighter and treat you like … family. Maybe that’s why Leonidas is who he is—so loving and understanding. I’ve wanted to go up to several people and hug them for their kindness.
We got through the airport here in Athens, Greece, in good time. Now, here we stand, burning under the scorching sun, waiting for a taxi. We’re failing. Every taxi we wave over with urgency is taken and doesn’t stop—or for that matter, slow down.
“Hey, please stop!” Mom whispers to herself when a yellow car comes into our vision.
We both wave but come out again with no luck. My forehead is wet with a light layer of sweat forming. God, if a taxi doesn’t stop now, I’m going to melt.
“Do it like this,” a man says from my right. His voice is rich with an accent that sounds like pure gold.
I love when Greek people speak in English. He looks to be in his mid-thirties. His body is built strong and tall. Just by looking at him, I already know he’s a heartbreaker.
He walks onto the road and whistles when he sees a taxi. Waving in the air, he passionately yells something in Greek. “Elate edo. Min kanete aftes tis kyries na perimenoun pia!” The man’s voice is loud and high-pitched in his mother tongue—and I mean, loud. I can feel it in my soul.
I look over at Mom in confusion. In response, I just get a shrug and a frown from her.
I’m dying to know what the man said, but I guess it will forever be a mystery.
A grateful smile graces my lips as a taxi pulls up next to us. A Greek man with a freshly shaven face gets out and helps us with our bags. Before getting in the car, I look over at the man who still stands near us with a smile on his face.
“Efcharisto,” I say confidently to him, for sure butchering the word.
One of his brown eyebrows rises up in shock.
Leonidas taught me a few words.Thank youwas one of them.
