The Trouble with Flying (23 page)

But I open up my email anyway and stare at her message sitting right at the top.
artSPACE Live Poetry and Short Story Reading
.
Just read it
, I tell myself.
Reading it doesn’t mean you’ve agreed to anything yet
. I click on the email and got through the details. The event is happening next Thursday night. People are invited to come along and listen, and, since the programme isn’t yet full, anyone interested in taking part is asked to contact the event organiser by Monday.

I don’t have to do this. No one’s forcing me to. I could ignore the email and relax next Thursday night like I do every other night. No need to panic and stress myself out. But there’s a tiny yet persistent voice at the back of my mind that keeps whispering something.
Fly. Be brave. Take a chance.

I think of Aiden facing his fear head-on and stepping up to the edge of the mountain. I think of him daring me to talk to those two strangers at the restaurant. I think of how I failed. But … I can’t believe I’m actually thinking these words … if he can conquer his fear, so can I. I click the ‘Contact Sandy using this form’ link. I fill in all the requested information and hit ‘Send’ at the bottom of the form before I can come to my senses and back out of this. Then I return to Facebook and type another message to Aiden.

Sarah: I’m going to try and fly. Will you catch me if I fall?

I’m standing frozen in front of my mirror with my printed-out story in my hands when my phone interrupts my terrifying visions of tomorrow night. I peer over my shoulder at my desk and see a Facebook message from Aiden on my phone’s screen.

Aiden: So … I could probably introduce any topic beneath the sun for us to discuss this evening and you’d bring it right back to how you’re panicking about tomorrow night.

I grab the phone and throw myself onto my bed, which turns out to be a horrible idea, because hitting the mattress with my stomach makes me feel even closer to throwing up. I take some slow, deep breaths before replying.

Sarah: Who says I’m panicking?

Aiden: You’re not? That’s great!

Sarah: I. Am. Freaking. INSANE. I am BEYOND panicking. What on earth possessed me to think I could actually do this? I’m freezing up in front of MYSELF for goodness sake. What am I going to do in front of a whole room full of people?

Aiden: Um … imagine them naked?

Sarah: That is the stupidest thing ever. I don’t know who came up with that advice for banishing public-speaking phobia, but whoever it was clearly did NOT know what it’s like to experience REAL fear when a whole crowd’s attention is on you. I tried that during orals at school, and it did NOT work.

Aiden: But you survived then, so you’ll survive now.

Sarah: Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll die of fear.

Aiden: Kind of a pathetic way to die, don’t you think? If you’re going to go toes up due simply to fear, at least wait until you’re face to face with a lion or a knife-wielding psychopath or a time travelling T. rex.

Sarah: Thanks. You’re really helping.

Aiden: Am I? It’s hard to tell whether you’re being sarcastic. :-/ <— confused face.

Sarah: You’re helping so much that all my fears have magically transformed into happy little sunbirds that are flitting away into a rosy sunset.

Aiden: Sarcasm. Got it.

Sarah: I’m sorry! I’ve tried practising out loud, and it goes fine if all I think about is telling myself a story. But as soon as I imagine doing it in front of a crowd, I can’t seem to get the words out.

Aiden: Focus on the people you know. Your parents or Sophie or anyone else you’ve invited. Look ONLY at them. Then you won’t feel like you’re talking to strangers.

Sarah: Are you nuts? I haven’t TOLD anyone I’m doing this. It’s bad enough embarrassing myself in front of people I don’t know. Now you want me to do it in front of people I DO know?

Aiden: You won’t be embarrassing yourself.

Sarah: You don’t know that!

Aiden: Take Sophie with you. Seriously. Tell her to sit in the front row and ONLY look at her. That’s my last piece of advice.

Sarah: I wish I could take you.

Whoa, what? I am being
way
too honest for my own good right now. It’s too late, though, because as advanced as cell phones are these days, they don’t yet seem to include a ‘Bring that message back right now’ button. So now it’s sitting there at the bottom of our conversation, and Aiden is taking his sweet time replying.

No reply.

No reply.

WHY HASN’T HE REPLIED YET? I’ve probably scared him away forever. He’s probably figuring out a way to quickly end this conversation and—

Aiden: I wish I could be there.

Oh. My. Hat! It seems I may have been right about my fears transforming into happy little sunbirds, because all I can feel right now is a ridiculous sort of gleeful giddiness.

Sarah: You do?

Aiden: Of course. The only place I’ve wanted to be since I first met you is at your side.

Aaand the sunbirds are doing crazy happy flapping all around my insides. It’s utterly insane, because Aiden and I might as well be a gazillion miles apart, and who knows when we’ll see each other again, but I can’t help the fact that he’s the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I say goodnight to before I fall asleep, and the person I want to hear from every moment throughout the day, and I think I might be kinda crazy about him, AND HE LIKES ME BACK!

Aiden: Sorry. My brain lost control of my fingers for a moment. I really wasn’t planning on making you feel uncomfortable when you have something way more important to focus on tonight. Just forget that last message!

WHAT? Forget that last message? As if I could EVER erase those words from my brain. What could possibly be more important than this moment? If he thinks I’d rather be panicking about tomorrow night, he obviously has no clue how I feel about him. Which seems somewhat impossible considering we’ve fit about ten years worth of conversations into the ten days since I finished writing that book. Does he think I communicate this much with every guy I know?

I reread his message, then type my response.

Sarah: Why would I feel uncomfortable?

Aiden: (Feeling super relieved we’re not having this awkward conversation face to face.) Well, you know, it’s always uncomfortable when a guy admits that he might sort of … have feelings for a girl when he knows she doesn’t feel the same way.

My body attempts so many reactions to Aiden’s words at once that I think I short-circuit the emotion section of my brain, which leads to the calm response I type next instead of the
Aaaaah!!??:-D!!??Eeeee:-))))
that might have come out otherwise.

Sarah: How do you know I don’t feel the same way?

Aiden: (:-/ Confused face again.) Um, well, you never replied to my letter, so that was the only logical conclusion.

Sarah: What letter?

Aiden: The letter at the end of the book.

Sarah: What book?

Aiden: The pink book. The book I almost left the airport with. The book you said you finished reading.

“What the heck?” I mutter. I jump up and scan my bookshelf for the romance novel I borrowed from Julia and never finished reading after I arrived back in Durban. It was silly, frivolous stuff, after all, and I had far better books waiting on my to-read pile beside my bed. I snatch the book from between
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
and
I Am Number Four
and flip through the pages near the end. There’s the last page of the story, then the acknowledgements, then—WHAT IS THAT?

On the blank space after the second page of acknowledgements, before the page about the author, hastily written words have been penned in black ink. HE WROTE IN THE BOOK! If he were anyone else, I’d probably want to smack him for violating the pages of a novel, but these are Aiden’s words, and if I didn’t want to read them so badly, I’d probably be kissing the page.

Sarah,

I stood in front of you, and there were a thousand things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t figure out how to say any of them without COMPLETELY shocking you. How do you tell a person you only just met that you think they might be the one to show you that happily ever afters aren’t a myth after all? So I walked away. And then I started to panic: The universe (or God, as you’d probably say) gave me a second chance by putting you next to me, and I might be throwing it away by not being brave enough to tell you how I feel. And then I realised I STILL HAVE YOUR BOOK! And now I’m writing in it, and of all the words swirling about my head and my heart, the only thing I have time to write is … I want to see you again. I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want this to be it. And maybe you think I’m crazy, and you’re glad you never have to speak to me again, so that’s why it’s all up to you now. If this comes out as insane to you, then you can ignore it. You need never see me again. But if not—if you feel the same way I do—tell me. Answer me. I want to see you again.

You said your life is messed up at the moment. Well so is mine. Isn’t everyone’s? No one is perfect. And if we keep waiting for that moment when everything in our lives is neatly in place, we may end up missing what’s standing in front of us right now.

Aiden

[email protected]

The sunbirds have burst into flame. My whole body is hot and my hands are shaking and I’m not sure I’m even breathing anymore and I can’t believe this letter has been here the WHOLE TIME! Ever since Aiden ran back into the airport, put it into my hands, and kissed me. Of course I felt the same way! I still do!

I grab my phone from the bed, and it slips from my sweaty fingers. I deposit my butt on the floor and try again, holding it in both hands this time. Looks like I missed several messages while I was searching for and reading the letter.

Aiden: ???

Aiden: I swear I can hear crickets chirping.

Aiden: ????????

Aiden: Okay, seriously. You have to say something now.

My fingers fumble over the screen as I try to type a reply as quickly as I can.

Sarah: I never finished reading the book. I didn’t know you wrote a letter.

Aiden: Well … this is awkward.

Sarah: But if I had, this is how I would have responded: I want to see you again. I don’t want to say goodbye either. I don’t want this to be it. I don’t think you’re crazy or insane, and I want to be the one to show you that happily ever afters DO exist.

There’s a pause that lasts about a million seconds. Then—

Aiden: I want to kiss you.

I fall back on the carpet before my ridiculous giddiness can knock me out.

Aiden: I want to be right next to you.

Sarah: WHY ARE YOU SO FAR AWAY?!

Aiden: It won’t be forever.

Sarah: Really?

Aiden: We’ll figure something out.

Sarah: I’ll never be able to fall asleep tonight.

Aiden: Me neither. I’ll be wishing you were next to me.