I stand at the airport, surrounded by my friends. Half the hospital is here, wanting to wish me off. I rub my eyes, maybe it wasn't a good idea to stay up all night, packing and fretting. No one says much, the idea that I'm going away hasn't fully sunk in yet, I don't think it will until my aeroplane has disappeared from sight. A sort of buzzing has settled itself on my brain, numbing it from pretty much everything. We've stood for what feels like hours, waiting for my plane to arrive. Harry and Clara are exchanging murmured words, I don't know what they are talking about. The rest of the group from the hospital is circling up, talking in hushed tones, and I stand by myself, facing the door. I close my eyes. I carry myself back to a time when life was good. Mother had just got home from work, after stopping off at the store. She called Harry and I down the stairs and wanted us to help bake chocolate chip cookies with her. At first, the teenage Harry, absolutely refused to help, but after much persuading, the two of us helped, laughing and pouring flour all over each other. I think that is one of the only times Harry and I actually got along in our childhood. Most of the time we were squabbling and arguing. I feel a hand on my shoulder and slowly open my eyes. The plane was boarding, and I hadn't even heard. Harry stands in front of me, sort of awkwardly, but I can tell that she's scared to see me leave. I reach down and hug her, something I haven't done since I was seven. She hugs me back, burying her face in my shoulder,
"Just... Don't die okay John?" I nod,
"I'll try Harry, trust me on that." She squeezes me and then steps back so everyone could have a go. Clara hugs me next, crying into my shoulder and mumbling something about how I shouldn't have to leave, and how it's not fair. The hospital groupie takes turns patting me on the back, wishing me luck and nudging me toward the door.
"Bye John! Good luck!" Harry calls behind me.
"Keep in touch yeah?" I turn back to the group and wave before walking onto the plane. I take a seat by the window, mostly to torture myself as we lift off for a long journey. I lean my head against the glass and watch London pull away and shrink further and further as we fly higher. I close my eyes again. Why me? Why now? I suppose it's a learning experience, and Harry was actually crying. Maybe she cares more than I give her credit for. A young man is sitting next to me, he leans over, holding his hand out,
"I'm Tyler."
"John." I shake his hand. He smiles at me,
"Afghanistan?"
"Yeah."
"Me too. Who came to see you off? I saw you standing there, you looked kind of alone, but there were some people around you."
"My sister and some coworkers." He nods before facing the seat in front of him,
"Are you scared?" he's being absolutely serious.
"Just a little bit." He nods,
"Me too." I rub my eyes. "Did you stay up all night too?" He wonders aloud.
"Yeah. Probably shouldn't have, eh?"
"I don't know. It helped clear the air between my girlfriend and I. And it helped with my debate."
"Debate?"
"Whether or not to propose." I smile,
"Did you?"
"Oh yeah! I figured, if I'm going to war might as well be able to come back to my fiance. What about you? You got a girlfriend?" I shake my head,
"Unattached. I feel like it's better that way. I don't want a girlfriend crying over my grave."
"You think we're going to die?"
"It's a possibility." The both of us fall quiet, thinking about what could happen, and the movements of the plane lull me to a slumber, nodding me off to a dreamless sleep.