Long-Distance Calls

4(0)4

*MATURE CONTENT AHEAD*

Day One

The insistent ringing of the alarm to which I wasn't used startled me away from my sleep. I quickly pressed the 'Snooze' button and turned to the other side to get some more good sleep.

I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't enjoying sleeping. Is it just me or does the bed feel more comfortable when you know you're about to leave it?

A few minutes later, I realized what day it was. I realized that that morning was way out of my routine, so I turned back to the phone and switched it on. The next alarm was about to ring, so I deactivated it.

I admit I did something very much so out of character, that morning, when I jumped out of the bed and ran to the bathroom. I wouldn't be this active in the morning if the whole room was falling apart.

It was the day. The day. How could I even just think about sleeping a little more. It was five in the morning. I had to shower. Had to.

It was 5:50 when I got out of the shower. I made sure that every inch of my body was very well clean. If there ever was a time to wash for a good reason, it was now.

I took a long look at myself in the mirror. I stared at my wet hair. This was a decisive moment in my life. I wouldn't have time to wash my hair again. As a matter of fact, I was already late. So I had only one chance of not fucking up the hairstyle as I always did.

This was the one day when I absolutely could not afford to have a bad hair day. I grabbed the volumizing mousse I'd bought a year ago and kept exclusively for this day. I sprayed it in my hands, a big ball of foam, quickly rubbed it and then slammed in my hair.

That mousse was supposed to give my hair enough volume to shape into the quiff I wanted, so I prayed six different deities it wouldn't screw up.

I blew the hair dryer on the back of my head, and I quickly started to give my hair a personality. When I was done with the blowdryer, I was happy with how my hair was shaping up to be.

Just one more little touch, now. Putting the hair clay on could've easily fucked everything up. That's why it took me about twenty minutes of applying and re-applying to get the closest version to the desired result. My mom was already calling my name, telling me to move or we'd lose the plane.

It was weird. My mom saying that we'd lose a plane. For seventeen years I'd gotten so used to the idea of my mom being scared of planes that I thought I'd never be on one. But 'the power of love is a curious thing', as that Back To The Future song said, and that day was magical. Out of the ordinary. Never before.

I put too much clay. My hair was hard to the touch, but as long as no one would lay a hand on it, it looked good.

The cab that would take us to the airport was already there when I left the house. My father was loading three big bags on it. "You made it," he shouted at me, "thought we were gonna have to leave without you."

I smirked. My mom was already sitting in the backseat of the cab when I joined her. "This is crazy," she said, as if she was thinking out loud.

"Mom," I said, a smile on my face. "I'm thankful. For once."

When we reached the airport, I'm pretty sure my parents had the same exact thought I had: to turn around and go back home.

Never had I seen so many people running around, so much confusion, constant hubbub making your ears hurt. And the place was huge. There were thousands of people in it and it still looked huge. It must be bigger than I could even imagine.