crescendo

Arrival

OLIVIA

After 6 and a half hours on a plane from New York to California, I'm out of the sky.

Afterwards a not-so-smooth landing, I grab my bags and walk out through the tunnel. I breathe in that almost-fresh airport air and follow the signs to a Starbucks near the entrance.

The plain-looking girl at the counter looks bored and so do the people around her. I guess an airport isn't exactly the most entertaining place to be on a Saturday.

I'm almost at the front of the line when a man with a shaved head cuts in front of me. I'm about to tap on his shoulder and tell him off when he turns around.

"Matthew Wilson?"

"Olivia? Is that you? It's been forever," he exclaims.

Matthew Wilson, one of my good friends from college. I haven't seen him in a couple of years. I remember how happy he used to make me, so I channel that energy and enthusiasm into our conversation.

"How have you been?," I ask him.

"Good," he says, laughing. "Anything new with you Olivia?"

My heart drops. John had died just about a year ago. I don't want to dampen the chit chat, so I play along with the afternoon catch-up.

"Not much. Just working and living life," I say.

"How's that boyfriend of yours? Jim, was it?"

"John," I say defensively.

I can't lie at this point. It was a direct question.

"Oh, I forgot to mention... John died almost a year ago," I whisper, trying not to cry in public.

"Oh... that's... I'm sorry."

"It's ok. That's actually why I'm here. I'm starting a new life here in California."

"Really? That's sounds interesting."

He glances at his watch then looks at me sympathetically.

"Well, look at the time," he says with almost too much enthusiasm.

"See you," he says before rushing off deep into the airport.

I sigh and order my food.
Another person driven away by the depressed widow.
Once I'm done eating, I rush outside to try and get an Uber.

DEAN

I'm barely awake when the plane comes to a bumpy landing.

"All passengers, we are on the landing strip and we will be approaching a stopping point in a few moments."

I try to look out the window as the plane comes to a stop. Everyone on the plane rushes to get their bags and get into the airport. Tom and I stay back and let people pass.

I observe the last few people that walk by. A tall, quiet man with his eyes on his watch, a woman with curly brown hair and a loud personality, and a boy who looks just about 17, with somber eyes and acne.

After waiting for a few minutes, the plane is empty and we grab our stuff.

Tom has to get his suitcase, so I go with him. There, the woman with the curly brown hair is getting stopped as the metal detector she had just gone through beeps incessantly.

They asked to check her, and when she resisted, they tried to inspect her by force.

She struggled to escape their grasp and explain she didn't have anything on her. People watched in silence, whispering, judging, trying to avoid conflict.

Once all her stuff was checked, they realize the thing that set off the metal detector was a necklace. All that, for a necklace.

They let finally let her go. She walks off in an outraged huff and the security guards look almost embarrassed. Eventually, the small crowd scatters into the depths of the airport, leaving nothing but us, the luggage belt, and the security guards.

"Dean," says a voice.

"Dean," the voice says louder.

I tune back into my life and look at Tom.

"What," I ask.

"We're going to be late for real this time man. Stop tuning out!"

"Oh," I say; not realizing that I had not been paying attention.

We walk outside, get into a Lyft, and start on our way to the party.

ISABELLE

Let's do a quick recap.
I got off the plane at about 7:30, got a Lyft to my hotel, and decided to go out.
Now let's come back to right now.
I'm getting changed when someone knocks on the door.
"Who is it," I ask.
"Room service."
"I didn't order anything," I say, confused.
"Must be the wrong room number. Sorry."
That was weird. This hotel has good reviews.
Anyway, as I finish getting ready, my phone rings. My dad is calling. Great. Just as I decide to have some fun tonight.
"Hi Dad," I say with annoyance.
"Hi sweetheart," he says with an all-too-familiar tone.
"Did you get what I sent you?"
"What are you talking about? You didn't send me anything," I say.
Then I remember the food at my door.
"Oh, you mean the food? Yeah, it was delicious," I say.
"Are you lying," he asks me.
I don't respond. This might backfire if I say anything.
"I thought we were done with the lies," he says with dismay.
I think to myself, "I don't think that we will ever be done with most things."