You and Me (Plus Everyone In Between Us)

Fly Low

It looked daunting, but I knew it had to be done.

All five of us waited outside of Pearson Airport. Our flight was a shy one hour away. I saw all the planes flying in the distance, zipping through the air. I swallowed a gulp.

I had never been on a plane before. Hell, I've barely even left Scarborough.

"Are you sure you guys have everything?" Dad asked, lifting my suitcase out of the car.

"Yes," I sighed, not wanting to go through his long list of everything.

"I can't believe you guys get to go onto a plane before me," Maria grumbled.

"Don't worry," I said. "We'll take lots of pictures so that you can appreciate being there."

"Not on that crappy phone of yours," Maria joked, and I snorted.

I glanced over to Mom and Dad, who were in the middle of a parting kiss to one another. The three of us fake gagged, and they pulled apart, jokingly glaring at us.

Dad came up to me and hugged me. "Have fun on your trip. Make sure that you follow your Mom's rules and sing well, okay?"

It was odd hearing them encourage it. But it was a start. A very slow one nonetheless.

"Okay, Mom!"

"I've already told our family on WhatsApp that you were auditioning," Mom said.

A small smile formed on my lips. Maybe I didn't like the WhatsApp group because I wasn't in there. But it felt a little nice that Mom felt I was important enough to tell everyone about this.

"We should start going Mom," I reminded. "We have an hour before the flight and we haven't even checked in."

Mom shrugged. "We have some more time."

"We don't," I countered. "We have an hour until we fly."

With a sigh, we left the rest of them and got our boarding passes printed before I wedged mine into my new crisp passport, which took me ages to wait in line for.

Everything was such an overwhelming journey. We rushed our way through customs, had our bags put through this machine, and took off everything that could be used to hide a secret weapon of mass destruction. Like socks.

I don't know why I feel anxious about this. I wonder if I accidentally brought a bomb in my backpack, but once everything is cleared again, we put everything back on, and I am relieved of the sticky floors.

I check my phone and panic. "We have ten minutes. We have to go!"

"Wait!" Mom called, but then I was already running, navigating our gate on the bright signs ahead. I ran and ran, bag rolling across marble floors ferociously.

"Last call for the Air Canada flight to Los Angeles," the intercom said once we got there.

"No!" I yelled, doubling over out of sheer tiredness, feeling my breath tickling my knees. I strained my head up to see the desk attendant closing the door.

"We're late," Mom huffs. "We're going to have to go home. There's no way we can make it."

No. I'm not giving up now. At least not this easy.

"Wait!" I yelled. "We're on the flight. Can you let us in?

I handed her my boarding pass and posed to make sure my passport looked like me. She flung open the door, revealing the grey hallway on the plane, and I continued my mad dash.

Suddenly I was on the plane, seats full of people ready for takeoff. I sighed in relief once we entered the plane and found our seats. Mom sat down next to me once she stored her bag above her.

That was close.

Mom sat down next to me, and soon the flight attendants were demonstrating some safety thing I caught glimpses of and heard snippets of. Whatever this cabin pressure thing was, I didn't want to lose it.

I sat back in my seat with a smile creeping on my face.

We're here.

I turned over to look at the window, then promptly turned back at the sight of those huge wings and engine alike, and pulled down the window cover.

"Good thing we made it?" I turned to talk to Mom, who nodded quickly and shrugged.

"If you're scared, we can get off," Mom quickly whispered. "I even heard it was windy today. We might crash."

I gulped. "We won't."

It was all well.

Soon the plane accelerated off the runway and I squeezed my eyes shut as the plane took a terrifying launch into the air. Then it stopped, and I felt weightless.

All was safe now.

♩

A cool gust of air swept across my face as Mom and I entered the hotel room. It was chilling. Literally. The room felt cramped on entry with two beds squeezed onto the brown carpeted floor. The flat-screen TV mounted on the way cast a soft glow across the room. The studio for the auditions was just a short distance away.

"This is... nice," I muttered, trying to break the silence, but my words echoed in silence. I flopped onto the bed near the window, stomach-first into the soft sheets.

Mom stood there, her eyes scanning the room with a sense of unease as if searching for deeper understanding. I felt suffocated by the silence. Should we be talking, maybe?

"Did you stay in a hotel room like this when you first came to Canada?" I blurted out, desperate to fill the void with any conversation, no matter how awkward.

She appeared taken aback by the sudden question, her eyes widening for a brief moment. "No," she replied. "I stayed in a dirty motel. I had no money."

"Oh," I mumbled, regretting it immediately. The tension thickened, wrapping around us like an uncomfortable shroud. I hadn't expected such a loaded response, and now I felt the weight of her unspoken past.

"You know," Mom started, her voice tinged with doubt, "you could never know why they picked you. What if they chose you because they thought you were bad? What if they just want to embarrass you?"

My heart sank at her words, the doubts that I had managed to push aside now clawing their way to the surface. What if the judges saw right through me and selected me only to humiliate me? The fear gripped me, but I couldn't bring myself to voice it aloud. That would prove them right. They couldn't be right. At least not now.

"I... I don't know," I stammered. "I thought I did pretty well... And, uh, you already told the whole family. That would be awkward."

A dismissive 'hmph' escaped her lips, and my stomach knotted, amplifying my insecurity. The room suddenly shrunk in me.

"What if they don't take you?" she pressed, her gaze piercing into me. "You could still be a good singer and not have them choose you."

Taking a deep breath, I mustered what little determination remained within me. "I'll... I'll try my best," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "Okay?"

Mom's gaze bore into me, a mixture of concern and skepticism.

"Okay."