Chapter 44

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After spending so little money throughout the trip, I had enough to splurge a little on presents. My thick wallet was ready to thin down.

For my father a big bottle of bourbon to add to his alcohol cabinet he never drank from and was always expanding.

For Emily, the baby sister of Jack and Finn that I only barely remember, a block of chocolate. Enough, I hope, to give her the sugar high that parents just love.

For Jack and Finn's parents, Becca and Andy, a bottle of red wine with the biggest price tag I could find. I hoped it wrongly gave the impression I was somewhat adult and mature. The pretty ladies at the counter confirmed for me that it would give this impression as they used words like, breathing and aerating, and how aged it is.

For Mother, a key chain with a little map of Ibiza and a postcard with a view of a beach. These small gifts could easily fit in a letter I would send her when I landed in London. They seemed wrongly impersonal but it would have to do.

For Finn, a set of Cuban cigars in a golden-crested red box that smelled sweet and rich.

For Jack, though at the moment it seemed we were not speaking, I got him a little leather pocket that had a small sharp knife inside. It ached to seem his so blank and numb to me. I would try anything to branch communication with him, anything that didn't involve hurting Finn in the process.

Lastly, I searched the isles for something to gift myself. Perfume seemed practical but after smelling 3 or 4 they all smelled of the same bitter chemical aroma that made my head throb with a head ache.

I bought a tight and itchy tourist tshirt that had a high collar that felt slightly restricting. On the front it had in a zany scrawl "Ibiza, Spain". It was a disgusting orange and the writing contrasted oddly in a neon green.

It was the kind of shirt your parents brought you back on their trip away and you vowed you loved .to them, and then hid it away in your draws never to be seen again.

I loved it. The awkward fit along the chest that made it obvious it was a unisex T-shirt. The impractically thick seams along the hem of the shirt making it chaff uncomfortably. I could sense that the fault-filled design had not been changed for twenty years.

Over the loud speaker an authoritative woman who was almost continuously calling announcements asked for passengers on flight LND1498 from Ibiza to London to start boarding. That was me.

Everyone effortlessly found each other at the setting area just outside the doorway connecting the airport to the plane.

I was only slightly late because my hunger for chocolate got the better of me and I bought a block to share for the flight. But, even in the deepest depth of my soul I knew I was lying to myself. That block of chocolate wasn't being eaten by anyone else but me.

Entering the plane felt the start of something big and I wasn't sure what. Finn's hand interlocked with mine and ever time I looked up at him his calming expression, my slight anxiety would disintegrate.

After more than 8 years, I was itching to be home, in London.

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