CHAPTER 4
Jet Airliner
Friends and family gathered at our house early Saturday morning to see us off. The airport shuttle arrived promptly at nine and we loaded our luggage into the back of the large van. We each received extended hugs and lots of kisses from the crowd and the tears were flowing freely. Even though we had been talking about it everyday for the past couple of weeks, it was harder than I thought it would be to actually say goodbye. We promised to call often and, of course, keep up daily via social media and texts.
We lived less than an hour from the airport, but it seemed to take forever. Once again, I was feeling apprehensive about the move. One thing I had learned, though, was that school started much earlier in Georgia. The first day of school was August 6, three whole weeks earlier than Bradford. I'd have only one boring, friendless month in Eden instead of nearly two before facing the seniors at South Effingham High School. I figured I'd use some of that time to read, fix up my room and help my mother with the rest of the house. She would have only one week to organize before having to start her new job.
After arriving at the airport and checking our bags, we headed to the gate. Even though it was called Logan International Airport, which, to me, implied that it was an enormous facility, it was pretty small, and the entire process took us only a few short minutes. I anxiously checked the current time and our departure time. We had about thirty minutes before having to board. I took a walk to the newsstand to pick up a trashy tabloid for the flight.
It was time. This was it. I was leaving Massachusetts, my home of sixteen years. I walked with my family down the jetway that led to the airplane. We found our seats and I helped my mother get my younger siblings strapped in. It was going to take us five long hours to get to Savannah due to a one-hour layover in Atlanta. I dug through my purse and found my phone. I needed something mellow right now to calm my internal anxiety. Hmmm? some Queensr?che, "Silent Lucidity". I let my overactive mind take a rest while I listened to the music. "So here it is, another chance, wide awake you face the day. Your dream is over. Or has it just begun?" Darn! I can't escape it. I closed my eyes when the captain announced that we were preparing to take off.
Surprisingly, the time passed fairly quickly. Before I knew it, we were being told to put our tray tables up and to be sure our seat belts were securely fastened. Now I was glad we had an hour in Atlanta. That would give us plenty of time to stretch our legs, use the restroom and get a drink and a snack.
When we got off the plane, we were directed to Concourse B. This airport is huge, I thought as I looked around. I helped my mother corral the kids and we headed in the direction we were told to go. After making all the necessary stops, we got to our gate. It was time to board. Only an hour to Savannah, an hour till my new life begins. Looking out the window, I saw a much smaller aircraft than the one that had carried us safely from Boston to Atlanta. I didn't like the looks of this one. It wasn't that I was afraid to fly in a small plane, necessarily. I was, however, afraid of hurling due to motion sickness, an issue that had plagued me since pre-school.
As we walked down the aisle looking for our seats, I was actually hoping to find my seat close to the lavatory, sure I'd end up there before the flight was over. Short flights made me especially queasy. "Eight, nine, ten?" I counted the rows under my breath. 15C. Yes! I thought excitedly. Wow, how lame was I to be excited that my seat was next to the bathroom? Hollie was assigned the seat next to me, the window seat. I let her sit down first, then I took my seat and situated my bag under the seat in front of me. Hollie was thrilled to have the seat next to the window and I was happy to be on the aisle. Even though it was a small plane, only two seats on either side with the aisle down the middle, I still preferred the aisle. I hated being confined in a small area and had a hard time sitting still for any length of time.
"This is your captain speaking. We are third in the queue and should be taking off in about four minutes. We will land in Savannah at approximately 3:55. It's a hot one today, folks. Currently about 96? with high humidity."
For the second time today, I prepared for take-off.
The flight was short, the landing was smooth, and, although my stomach was a bit queasy, I had not needed to use the barf bag that I had placed in the front of the storage compartment located directly in front of me or the bathroom located directly behind me.
Once all six of us had retrieved our luggage from the carousel, we followed the driver that the hospital had sent for us. Were we being driven to Eden in a limo? I wondered to myself. How embarrassing! Thankfully, the driver showed us to a white, non-descript fifteen-passenger van similar to the one we had taken to the airport in Boston. He loaded our luggage in the back and we all took our seats inside.
"Man, is it hot here!" I said out loud to no one in particular. We had done nothing more than walk outside for about a minute to reach the van and I was already sweating. I was impatiently waiting for the driver to hurry up and load the bags so he could turn the van on and get the air conditioner cranking.
The driver heard me and laughed. "First time in Georgia?"
"First time in the southeast," Caroline replied quickly before I had a chance to say something sarcastic. "We're from Massachusetts."
"Yankees," he said with a smile.
"Afraid so," Mum said, returning the smile.
As we drove the twenty-two miles from the "big city" to the middle of nowhere, as evidenced by the fact that there was absolutely nothing but blacktop and trees once we hit I-16, our driver answered every random question thrown at him. Turns out, his name was Tripp and he was born and raised a couple of towns over from Eden. He was twenty-five years old, unmarried, and poised to inherent his family's car service business. We all agreed that his accent was adorable.
Before long, we were getting off the highway at Exit 148. I was making a mental note. A right here, a left there, and Tripp pulled the van into our long driveway. Wow! This house was really big! Mum's new job must be paying well. It sat back off the road a ways and the driveway was lined on either side with what we were informed were Bradford pear trees. How appropriate, seeing that we just moved from Bradford. The house was brick that had been painted white, the many windows were flanked by working black shutters, and the front porch stretched the entire length of the house. Four big, white columns appeared to hold up a mini-deck that extended out from the middle of the second story and was enclosed by a short, black wrought iron fence. We couldn't get out of the van fast enough. The kids ran around to the back of the house and we could hear them calling to each other, "Hey! Look over here!" My mother and I helped Tripp bring the suitcases up to the front porch on which had been left four black rocking chairs, two on either side of a red door, a couple of side tables, and several Boston ferns hanging between the columns.
I noticed what looked like a Star of David encircled with Hebrew letters painted on the house above the lintel over the front door. How odd, I thought, then shrugged it off.
The door had been unlocked for us earlier in the day by the real estate agent. Tripp opened the door and, just like the stereotypical southern gentlemen I had seen on tv, stepped back, drawled, "After you, ladies," paused while we walked over the threshold, and finished with, "Welcome to your new home."
Being an aspiring journalist, I wasn't usually at a loss for words. Now it seemed that all I could say was "wow". All my apprehension seemed so ridiculous. I couldn't adequately explain what I was feeling at the moment, but I had this weird sense that I belonged here. This was definitely home.