He splashed some cool water on his face, hoping that the drops of water would hide his tears and his sore red eyes could be passed off as a minor cold.
Nicholas Davis was not an emotional man. He rarely cried and prided himself on the fact. It wasn't that crying was an act of weakness, but nothing moved him. Not even death. Yet, as he stood at the basin of the gents washroom of the Heathrow Airport looking at himself, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness for the things that had been and the things that would be.
Not today. I've got to be strong. For Melanie.
He picked up his backpack and headed towards the gate, where boarding for the flight to New York had just begun. He had arrived two hours early and had already checked in his baggage. Baggage was an understatement. He had checked in all that had remained with him. All his belongings.
He showed his boarding pass to the lady at the counter, who greeted him with a fake, plastic smile. Nicholas hated anything that was insincere. He made his way to his seat in the plane, a window seat that he had requested. He hoped he wouldn't have any annoying co-passengers. He looked around, looking for the emergency exit and found that it was two rows ahead of him. He didn't plan to die tonight, but death wouldn't be the worst thing at this point in his life.
The plane was filling slowly with a mix of people. Some English, some Irish, some Asians and Indians. He tried to divert his mind by observing people. Most seemed happy to fly to the USA. 'First time fliers' he thought, without realizing that it was the first time he was leaving the country as well. First time and forever.
His co-passenger arrived bustling with energy unnatural for a man his age. He was average height, with a slight stubble on his wrinkled face. His white hair indicated he was at least 60. He put his backpack in the luggage compartment on top and sat down with a thump which had a finality to it.
"Hey I'm Fred! Are you flying for the first time?" he asked, beaming.
Why is he smiling so much?
"Hi I'm Nick. Yeah I'm flying for the first time, just like you I guess" said Nicholas in tone which wasn't half as warm as the words.
"Yes I am flying for the first time. It's so exciting! I think I made it just at the Nick of time" exclaimed Fred, looking for a reaction to his little joke.
"Umm hmmm" Nicholas replied, determined not to give a foundation to this conversation. Nip it in the bud and you won't have to suffer his conversation for the rest of the flight.
He hoped that the third seat would be occupied by a chatter box, so that the two of them could get together and leave him alone.
Normally, Nicholas would have not minded company to kill time on a trip. But today was different. He wanted to be alone, to think things over and over again, knowing that they cause him pain, but still wanting to do it.
"Sometimes, you should feel pain. As a homage to the people who died. The world shouldn't remain the same at least for one person. Or else, what is the point of a human life", he thought as he decided to wallow in his misery.
A middle aged man with a very short moustache had already taken up the third seat, and Fred and man-with-Hitler-moustache seemed to be getting along. The air hostess announced that they were about to take off and advised everyone to wear their seat belts. Fred had already fastened his seat belt when he sat for the first time, in obvious excitement. In a few minutes, the plane started slowly, making it's way to the runway. As it straightened up from the turn, the acceleration began, and Nicholas was pushed back in his seat. He could feel his stomach as the plane picked up speed and with a swift arc, they were airborne. He looked sideways to see that Fred was frozen in his seat, his hands clutching the arm rests tightly. And just when Nicholas thought that the old man would subdue..
"That was AMAZING wasn't it! We should do it again." he said as that annoying grin came back on his face.
Nicholas ignored him and put on his headsets to block out the outer world. The outer world had lesser chaos than the inner world of Nick's mind. A thousand thoughts, a thousand images, all rushing at him. He was all alone he realized. He was stuck at forty thousand feet between two lands; the land that had been and the land that would be. He had sold his house in Westchester, England and he had decided to move to America on his uncle's request after what happened a couple of months back. So there he was, suspended in air with no place to go and no place to call home.
It was a mental thing, he realized, to have a place to call home. It gave a sense of assurance to every human to have a place that he can call his, that he can go to after a long and crappy day, or the place he can retire to even when he fails.
But Nick wouldn't get that. In USA, he would be the foreigner from England, and in England he would be the bloke who left England for greener pastures. It was like God was playing a cruel jape, taking away even his sense of identity.
Without realizing, Nick fell into a deep sleep and the images came to him unbidden.
He was running, in his dreams. Constantly looking back over his shoulder, but never finding anything. Yet, he ran. His footsteps seemed to leave a deep red color, a color similar to the color of blood, on the ground. He was sweating profusely, but he was feeling very cold. The sweat was not because of his running, but it was because of the fear. He had to outrun it. The cold seemed to be rising if he slowed down and he ran faster, stumbling and balancing himself. There was a helicopter waiting for him at the distance. He could only see its fan, rotating violently, ready to fly. The rest of the chopper was blocked by a big wall of mortar and red bricks. He had to climb the wall to get to safety. He got to the wall and looked for foot holes that he could use to hoist himself up. He desperately clawed at the bricks, but he just couldn't lift himself. And through the cracks of the wall, blood slowly oozed out, onto his hand......
He woke up with a violent jerk. He was still on the plane, the lights had dimmed. Fred and man-with-hitler-moustache were fast asleep. He called an air-hostess and found out that they plane was due to land in an hour. He had slept for an impressive six hours.
He spent the rest of the hour browsing their movie collection, and even put on one just to pass the time. Fred and man-with-hitler-moustache were awake soon.
"You slept quite a bit! Lucky man" said Fred.
Each sentence that the man uttered made Nick like him less and less, he decided. The captain announced that they would be landing and requested everyone to be seated. Fred clutched the armrest, scared surely, but was never going to admit it. They landed without incident and as they got down from the plane, Fred offered him a goodbye handshake.
"It was nice flying with you. Hope to do it again soon. Hehe" said Fred, with his signature grin.
"Yeah I don't think so. I'm moving here, so I won't be flying back to England." Nicholas replied, happily.
"Oh that's sad," said Fred, visibly disappointed. "Well you can give me a call if you want to meet up in New York. Here is the number where I'll be staying."
Fred handed him a card with a number on it.
"Sure I'll give you a call" replied Nicholas, though he had no intention of doing so.
They parted ways as they went for immigration checks and to get their baggage. Nick never saw him again, and was glad about that. He could get out of this airport, greet his uncle who would be waiting for him and then begin life anew.
The immigration and other formalities finished in an hour and he walked out of the airport looking for his uncle. He scanned the whole arrival section, but there was not a single soul that Nicholas recognized. There was no one waiting for Nicholas.
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