Capricorn Season - Jimmy Page

Chapter 19

My heels clicked against the laminate floor of Heathrow airport. It was packed. I didn't want to fly and I didn't want to be there, but I had to. I was nervous. Too many people. Too many voices.

My outfit was tight and uncomfortable but that was the price to pay for beauty. I wanted to look nice the first time Jimmy saw me after a few months. It wasn't like me to be so worried about what he thought but my anxious thoughts got the best of me. I worried he would be disappointed after not seeing me in so long. I wondered if it was even worth considering. I wore a pink dress I bought recently with some white pumps. My outfit matched my luggage.

Everything was fitting together, running flush as I started this new journey. It made me feel better about the uncertainty ahead. And there was lots of it. It wasn't like me to jump into things like this, not without knowing every little detail.

As I walked to my terminal I looked at the throngs of people. Whether they were waiting in line or sitting on the floor, they meandered. They wandered like clueless chickens with their heads cut off. They clucked and flapped their beaks as they tried to find their way to baggage claim, stomping around and fluttering their sickle feathers as they searched for their passports. I couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous they all looked.

Not that I was much better. I was so nervous I couldn't see where I was going. I almost went to the wrong terminal! I checked three more times as I opened the door to the lounge marked with a big red 5, just to be sure. Thankfully I was in the right place.

"Here you are, miss, just take a seat and wait for the plane to board." The fair-skinned desk lady gave me a thin-lipped smile and handed me back my pink passport. Another piece of the ensemble. I followed her orders and went to find a chair, releasing a large breath as I finally sat. It had been almost a year since I had been on a plane. This would only be my second flight ever, which was the reason for all this anxiety.

I sucked in a breath and stepped into the hallway. It was time to board the plane. The worst part. I could feel anxiety bubbling in my chest. I found my seat in five short strides. My nails hit the rigid plastic armrest as I nervously tapped. I'm sure everyone was annoyed with me as my feet clomped against the carpeted floor, but I couldn't help it. I had to get my nervous energy out somehow.

I remembered being amazed when Dominic told me about his plane ride to and from Africa, and how wonderful the experience was. That was his first plane trip and he was delighted to be flown by David E. Harris, the first black pilot. Harris became the plane captain by 1967, a year and a half before I flew for the first time. I compared my experience on this Pan Am flight to Dominic's account.

Sometimes I let him creep in, allowing his judgment to run free in my mind. It was so long ago, I know, but I couldn't help it. It felt good to swim in that lake of nostalgia. I remembered his words from so long ago and the way he drew out his syllables, how his face contorted in total joy when he made himself laugh, and how gorgeous he looked with smoke coiling around his lips.

He's actually the one who told me about England. He spoke about Reading and told me all about how magical the culture was, about the history, food, and architecture. He told me about Reading festivale and how one of his friends saw The Rolling Stones. He said he wanted to take me there. His face was painted with total elation. He had a huge mouth, lips, and teeth cracking into a geode smile, glittering and beautiful. I always thought he was a very pretty man. I wondered how he looked now, if he was still gorgeous, if he was still an asshole.

That's why I think I still let him into my head the way I did. His effect couldn't be understated. He still presided over my life, affecting where I lived, even with just his words. I worried that he would always have some measure of control over my life. I still judged myself based on his rubric, still looked off his paper as I made moves across my life. I didn't know if that was because he was my first and last boyfriend, the only man who filled the role of my absent father, or if I hadn't gotten over him yet.