Page 10 of The Surfer

4

RIPLEY

The first thingI see when I step through the gate into the Arrivals Lounge is the massive Kangaroo stuffed toy.

And the next thing I see is the equally massive sign announcing my name in large handwritten block letters.

WELCOME TO AUSTRALIA RIPLEY SAILOR.

Of course.

Sandy.

My best friend’s waiting for me, leaning over the airport barrier with the biggest smile on her face, the handwritten sign in one hand and the giant stuffed Kangaroo in the other. I recognize her immediately even though we’ve never met in person, she just looks exactly like I imagine. She’s told me online how she’s a tall girl, but I’m still surprised by her five-foot-eight height. I’m tiny compared to her.

She looks like a goddamn supermodel.

Slim. Tanned. Long blonde hair.

Wow.

I mean, I’m not too surprised by her overwhelming beauty. She never looks anything but immaculate on all our Facetime calls with each other, but it’s pretty blinding actually seeing her in the flesh right here in front of me in the airport.

It’s definitely, without a doubt, her.

Sandy.

My heart stops. I can’t believe I’ve made it here, even after all the long tiring flights and severe lack of soap, I’m still so absolutely excited seeing my best friend in person. I want to do a little dance right now in the airport even with everyone watching, and I’m a pretty shy girl. I just can’t believe it. I’m here, standing in front of Sandy.

In Australia.

Sandy squeals in excitement and lifts her arms over the barrier. I don’t need an invite, I rush into her arms, enveloped by the biggest hug from her. A well-deserved hug after all those cramped hours sitting in the air.

I’ve made it.

The waist-high barrier is caught between us, but it doesn’t matter. Our arms fit perfectly around each other.

“Sandy!”

“Ripley!”

I’ve been super nervous on the flight over whether our chemistry will survive meeting in person, but these first few moments in the airport Arrival Lounge entirely dispels any anxiety I have left. We are like sisters greeting each other. Sandy is a few years older than me, at twenty-four, and I’ve just turned twenty a few months ago, so she is kinda like my older sister.

Sandy lets go of me and I drop my bag.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she says, motioning me around the barrier. She leaves the giant stuffed Kangaroo toy on the airport ground and hugs me again.

“I’m so happy I’ve made it,” I reply into her hair as she squeezes me tight.

“I’ve had to wait ages,” Sandy says, letting me go from her embrace. “The incoming flights board said your plane landed ages ago. What kept you so long? Are you okay?”

I gesture back towards the border gate. “The border guards are very thorough,” I reply. “Let’s get a selfie, my Mom was non-stop pestering me about getting one with you for weeks before I left.”

It’s true, all my Mom wants is a photo of Sandy and me together at the airport. Sandy leans in over my shoulder as I snap us on my phone.

Mom.

I miss her already. My mind drifts back to the apartment we share back home in Queens and how lonely she must be feeling stuck there now. Mom and I have never spent more than a few days apart ever since the day I was born. This trip away from her will be a big thing for her.