answered honestly. “It had too much eye .”
Kian frowned, genuine confusion playing on his face. “Gwen,” he answered, quite seriously, “she had two eyes.”
“Oh, forget it!”
Chapter Seven
W aiting for a flight isn’t like usual waiting. You’re excited, nervous, and every once in a while, you entertain thoughts of a fiery death in a plummet to earth from thousands of feet above. Your activity is limited. You can only watch little children get on their parents’ nerves, or elderly people sit reading a book or businessmen tapping away on their laptops. Sustenance is limited to greasy fast food. Your smell is restricted to the cinnamon bun place down the hall mixing with the toilet at the other end of the hall. The five senses are crippled.
I was bored — going through security had been less than fun. Getting a pat-down from a retiree while Kian just smiled his way through was all the more annoying. I had been excited to have time to think about my vision, but my head was aching and I was grouchy.
Too many questions about my practical future — school, my parents, etc. — were plaguing me. And while Kian sat and texted with the mysterious all-knowing someone, looking like some historical character given a twenty-first century gadget, I groped at my forehead and squinted at the brightly lit ceiling.
“Where are you going?” Kian asked when I stood. He was back to hostage-taker mode in a second, but then remembered I had agreed to come willingly and relented. I felt bad for being a grouch.
“Restroom,” I replied. With my head pulsing, it was the most I could manage.
I walked into the even more brightly lit restroom, where only one stall was occupied. Grasping the sink to steady myself, I washed my face with cold water. But when I looked up, to my panic, I could not see anything but vague shapes and lights. I was gone in the mirror — then the mirror and the bathroom were gone too.
I felt blinded and started panicking. Now that I think about it, it probably lasted all of five seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Then, just as my sight was leaving me, my sense of hearing kicked in full force, but only in one ear.
Laughter. A man’s laughter sounded in my ear as if he stood behind me. My heart exploded all at once with the same excitement and love that I had felt in my previous vision and dream. The truest of true feelings.
“You know —” the voice began, but I was slipping, falling. I tried to grab at it, but I was too far away. My hearing and sight impaired, I was losing balance, and soon I hit the cold ceramic floor.
“Gwen!”
This voice was real now, concrete, and in both my ears. My sight was still blurred, but I felt around with a hand and grasped Kian’s hair.
“Is she okay?” a woman’s voice asked, and somewhere far away, a toilet flushed. For a moment, I thought how dirty I must look, lying on a bathroom floor in an airport. Classy.
“She’s okay,” Kian replied. “Just hasn’t eaten today. A little faint, is all.”
I heard the woman tsk.
“Young girls and eating disorders today,” she said disapprovingly. “I blame the media.” And with that she was gone. Had I not been incapacitated, I would have rolled my eyes.
Kian dragged me up and we hobbled over to the cinnamon bun place. He force-fed me a sticky roll as my vision came back in increments.
“You haven’t eaten,” he scolded. I shrugged. As much as I hated to admit it, the food was making me stronger. And he was being quite sweet, hovering over me like a mother hen.
“I heard a voice,” I told him when I had regained some strength. The flirty desk woman from before was calling rows to board. I was surprised when he said nothing. I looked up at him, suddenly suspicious. “Can you laugh?” I asked.
“Why?”
“Please, I just want to know you can laugh,” I said, giving the worst argument of my life.
Kian chuckled a little dutifully. Not even close. The voice I had heard was completely
Kian frowned, genuine confusion playing on his face. “Gwen,” he answered, quite seriously, “she had two eyes.”
“Oh, forget it!”
Chapter Seven
W aiting for a flight isn’t like usual waiting. You’re excited, nervous, and every once in a while, you entertain thoughts of a fiery death in a plummet to earth from thousands of feet above. Your activity is limited. You can only watch little children get on their parents’ nerves, or elderly people sit reading a book or businessmen tapping away on their laptops. Sustenance is limited to greasy fast food. Your smell is restricted to the cinnamon bun place down the hall mixing with the toilet at the other end of the hall. The five senses are crippled.
I was bored — going through security had been less than fun. Getting a pat-down from a retiree while Kian just smiled his way through was all the more annoying. I had been excited to have time to think about my vision, but my head was aching and I was grouchy.
Too many questions about my practical future — school, my parents, etc. — were plaguing me. And while Kian sat and texted with the mysterious all-knowing someone, looking like some historical character given a twenty-first century gadget, I groped at my forehead and squinted at the brightly lit ceiling.
“Where are you going?” Kian asked when I stood. He was back to hostage-taker mode in a second, but then remembered I had agreed to come willingly and relented. I felt bad for being a grouch.
“Restroom,” I replied. With my head pulsing, it was the most I could manage.
I walked into the even more brightly lit restroom, where only one stall was occupied. Grasping the sink to steady myself, I washed my face with cold water. But when I looked up, to my panic, I could not see anything but vague shapes and lights. I was gone in the mirror — then the mirror and the bathroom were gone too.
I felt blinded and started panicking. Now that I think about it, it probably lasted all of five seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Then, just as my sight was leaving me, my sense of hearing kicked in full force, but only in one ear.
Laughter. A man’s laughter sounded in my ear as if he stood behind me. My heart exploded all at once with the same excitement and love that I had felt in my previous vision and dream. The truest of true feelings.
“You know —” the voice began, but I was slipping, falling. I tried to grab at it, but I was too far away. My hearing and sight impaired, I was losing balance, and soon I hit the cold ceramic floor.
“Gwen!”
This voice was real now, concrete, and in both my ears. My sight was still blurred, but I felt around with a hand and grasped Kian’s hair.
“Is she okay?” a woman’s voice asked, and somewhere far away, a toilet flushed. For a moment, I thought how dirty I must look, lying on a bathroom floor in an airport. Classy.
“She’s okay,” Kian replied. “Just hasn’t eaten today. A little faint, is all.”
I heard the woman tsk.
“Young girls and eating disorders today,” she said disapprovingly. “I blame the media.” And with that she was gone. Had I not been incapacitated, I would have rolled my eyes.
Kian dragged me up and we hobbled over to the cinnamon bun place. He force-fed me a sticky roll as my vision came back in increments.
“You haven’t eaten,” he scolded. I shrugged. As much as I hated to admit it, the food was making me stronger. And he was being quite sweet, hovering over me like a mother hen.
“I heard a voice,” I told him when I had regained some strength. The flirty desk woman from before was calling rows to board. I was surprised when he said nothing. I looked up at him, suddenly suspicious. “Can you laugh?” I asked.
“Why?”
“Please, I just want to know you can laugh,” I said, giving the worst argument of my life.
Kian chuckled a little dutifully. Not even close. The voice I had heard was completely
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