Soon, My Friend (Currently Editing)

Love Actually

I sat down next to the counter by my gate, where a uniform dressed woman and a man stood in front of their computers working. I straightened up my back and put my hair in a ponytail. In some way I felt so grown up, as if I might as well could've had two of my children playing with each other right next to me.

Then I fetched the boarding pass in my handbag, the paper had been bent. I stressed about again, it wasn't that many times I'd travelled on my own. I think it began to approach a year ago last time I did, and that was when I went to Liverpool to spend a New Year's weekend with a friend who'd moved there.

I leaned back in the leather seat and closed my eyes for a few seconds.

The face of Harry popped up in my head again. It was like it had been waiting, plus that I felt a little guilty after having met Jacob. Why did the hell I feel that way? He did seem to be in a good place. Was I still attracted to Jacob? He did look great, though.

I guessed it had something with ex-lovers to do. You never forget them, they always find a way to reach into the deepest parts.

I shook my head slightly to myself and opened my eyes to check automatically if someone had seen it.

With a sigh I stood up. A small queue had been formed in front of the counter, and passengers interpreted everything the staff did. As soon as something could look like the boarding process was happening, they moved curiously on their bodies.

I was surprisingly, but fortunately, early and stood up behind a broad-shouldered and elderly man half a head taller than me. He had gray hair both in his neck and in his ears. He smelled homely, somehow. I heeded that there were standing two girlfriends behind me. They smelled of half the perfume department in the duty free. And they were French, chatting like they hadn't seen each other for years. Hm, well, maybe they hadn't.

I could pick up two or three sentences thanks to school French, just something with England being so grey, but still beautiful. It was actually quite grey outside as I looked out the window. Foggy. I didn't see much, but I glimpsed something that looked like an air foil out there.

The uniformed woman behind the counter spoke into a phone. Then she put it down and raised another one. She put it in front of her mouth, talking as her voice sounded in the speakers, it was now time for boarding. I fetched my passport and my ticket, clutched them together in my hand. Then I felt my pulse hammer faster again, as if it was out for a walk on its own. It was unbearable to stand there. But I had to.

I alternated from looking at the queue to the counter, out the window on the gray weather and back on the counter.

The queue began to move and my heart kept beating and beating. I reached the counter eventually and the woman looked me straight in the eye when I handed her my boarding pass and passport. She was beautiful in a tight manner, had eyeliner put on, red lipstick and loads of powder. Like she resembled more a mask than a woman, perhaps. But she had a very beautiful smile.

"Enjoy your flight." she said in French dominated English.

I nodded and smiled back: "Thank you."

I followed the others down the tunnel-like walkway, put in my earphones and listened to The Jam whilst waiting to move ahead. It was hopeless that they made us wait even longer in here, in the cool jetway, all pushed together. I longed for sitting somewhere high up in the air in a seat and look down. I longed for sitting down on a sofa in a hotel. I longed for laughter and I longed for Harry.

Eventually we were allowed to go on. We chased down a staircase and out of the building. I walked across the asphalted ground with quick steps and the wind constantly blowing in my face, the sound of air planes and helicopters above my head.