There's a first time for everything, right? I think to myself lugging my bag onto the plane. My first time flying, first time being away from my family, my first time being actually independent. I should be scared, shit maybe I am, but all I'm feeling right now is excitement for the potential I have. I get to really find out who I am, away from everything I know- apart from my brother who I haven't seen in 13 years. He's a few years older than me and now that I'm 20, my mum and I figured it's time to start fresh, somewhere new. My brother is just a helpful stepping stone. I haven't got his phone number, so all I have to go on is his name. I like a challenge though.
I figured if it's my first time flying, I may as well fly first class. I find my seat and settle down, taking out my book from my bag. It's not long before we takeoff, which hurts way more than I thought. Soon enough we're 10 hours into the flight, only 6 hours to go- more or less. A flight attendant approaches me and asks if I'm hungry- I'm still having the nuts she gave me earlier. I ask for an iced coffee with oat milk to help keep me up. The pain of being lactose intolerant bothers me every day. I'm given a fancy straw with my drink and a mini skincare bag. I finish my drink and rest my eyes, just for a little bit.
I wake up to an announcement- "Ladies and gentlemen, British Airways welcomes you to the Outer Banks, North Carolina. The local time is 11:25 PM. For your safety and the safety of those around you, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened and keep the aisle(s) clear until we are parked at the gate." I smile to myself and slide open the little cubicle door of my mini room. The plane lands and everyone starts to get up, so I do the same and slide my bag off the storage compartment above me. I follow the crowd of people leaving the plane and as I do, I feel salty air baptise me. I walk off the plane and leave the airport. All of my calls and texts have now come through so I call my mum and let her know I've landed safely. We catch up briefly and I go on my way.
There's a convenience store up ahead so I quicken my pace and pick up a six pack of coke, water and some cigarettes. "Fresh face! What's a girl like you doing out here?" The cashier is an elderly man, seems sweet. I smile at him politely. "Starting over. Could I get a bag for these please?" I reply. His eyebrows raise, "Of course! Is that an accent I hear? Australian?" He asks. I bite back my lips from smiling. Why does everyone confuse British with Australian? They sound nothing alike. Right? "Uh sure. Thank you." I say and hand him the money. I continue my journey, relying on asking strangers where my brother lives but no one seems to know who I'm talking about. I see a girl on a bike coming up towards me so I hold out my hand as if to wave. She slows down and puts her foot down to stop. She jumps off her bike and walks up to me. Her dirty blonde hair frames her face perfectly, her almond eyes are lit up by streetlights and her lips curl into a small smile. "Hey I'm new to the area, kinda, could you help me-' I start. 'Yeah sure where you headed?" She asks happily. I smile. "Uh well that's the issue' I laugh, 'His name is Theo, Theodore, he's my brother. He used to go by Bear at home. I'm trying to find him.". She looks at me with a thoughtful expression. 'Theodore...' she mutters to herself, questioning the name. "It's okay really, I'll find him, I'll let you carry on now." I say politely as I step away from her, she gently puts a hand on my shoulder. "Here's my number, in case you don't find him and need somewhere to crash." She smiles and writes her number on my palm. "I'm Sarah." She says. I smile back. "Milah. Thanks for helping me." I wave her off as she rides away on her bike. I exhale and walk down the dark street, hoping to run into more people, but I don't. After 2 hours of hopelessly trying and searching, I give in and phone Sarah.
"Really, it's okay stop thanking me! This is my room, make yourself at home." Sarah says welcomingly as she bounces onto her huge bed. I can't thank her enough. I ask to take a shower and Sarah tells me off for even asking. I laugh and set my stuff on the floor- then I open my bag and grab my oversized nirvana top. After a needed hot shower, I do my skincare and throw the top over my head. I join Sarah on the bed. "So. Tell me all about yourself." Sarah looks at me excitedly as she's laying on her stomach, her chin resting on her hands. "There's not much to say' I chuckle, 'I'm 20, I grew up in London, moved around way too much, it's just my mum and sister back home, I'm a tattooist and a psychologist. Or shrink to most people.' Sarah stares at me with a face of awe and pure interest. I bite back a laugh as I ask her 'what?'. She sits up and holds my arms as she says, "You're the coolest person I know. I have so many ideas of clients for you- for both of your professions." She finishes with a laugh. I smile. "That would be appreciated to be honest." I smirk at her. "Your turn now. And you kinda have no choice as I'm your elder. Respect and all." I say playfully. In no world does a two year difference actually matter- apart from some cases. She laughs and tells me about herself, though her manner implicates she's not telling me the whole truth. I don't blame her, we did just meet. Suddenly, it's feels like a teenage sleepover. Sarah puts Netflix on, makes us some popcorn, brings a whole bottle of tequila and talk tmi. "Milah. Do you have a lover?" Sarah giggles, the alcohol getting to her. "Not for a long time. You?" I smile, trying to forget the rush of memories in my head from that question. She nods quickly and starts blushing. "We're married. Well, not legally or anything. But yeah." Sarah slurs. I laugh and help her get under the covers. I give her a bottle of water from my bag and encourage her to sober up before she falls asleep- hangovers are the universe's punishment. Sarah drinks a little and very quickly dozes off watching a true crime documentary. I cover her with her blanket, switch the tv off and set myself up on the floor, using my hoodies as a pillow and my bathrobe as a blanket. Goodnight I whisper into the dark.
I wake up in the middle of the night, or morning I'm not sure, and find myself craving juice. Hesitating for a few minutes, I say fuck it and quietly open the door to head downstairs. Sarah hadn't shown me around the house so I walk into the wrong rooms a few times before finally seeing a fridge through a doorway. I silently walk towards the fridge and open it, scanning it for any juice. There it is, on the top shelf, apple juice. My favourite. I pick the carton up and try to search the cupboards for a glass to pour some into- but they're very high up and I'm not. I'm just under 5'2, which makes it hard for people to take me seriously at my jobs but I don't let it bother me. Though I am very bothered right now because I just want a damn cup. I climb up onto the counter and search the cupboards one by one, finally finding the right cupboard and taking a glass. I'm about to slide off the counter when my eyes dart to a darker corner in the kitchen.
I feel my heart rate slowly rising so I raise the glass to use as a weapon. I jump down and the figure comes closer, the dim light from outside revealing the dark mass. He's extremely tall, well built and has an unreadable expression on his face. "Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" His voice booms. I take a step back. "Who are you?" I reply in a defensive tone. He chuckles. "Are you trying to rob the place? If that's the case, I'd run if I were you." He speaks lowly as he steps toward me. "If I were robbing the place, I'd be sure not to get caught.' I snap. 'I'm a friend of Sarah's. A thirsty one, who wants a cup of apple juice. Is that an issue?" I state plainly, pouring the juice into my glass. I notice a small smirk on his lips. "Why are you in the kitchen?" I ask, as if it's my house. He walks past me, opens a cupboard and grabs a glass. He pours himself some juice and leans against the counter opposite me, his feet crossed at the ankles. "I'm thirsty in my own home, is that an issue?" He replies. I finish my drink and walk over to the sink, my back facing him. Within a few seconds he places his cup in the sink, leaning over my shoulder, and walks away silently. I scoff to myself. I'm definitely not washing that if that's what he thinks. I head back upstairs and rest my eyes.
