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Assistant: Title: Hello Darlin’
        Author: Walkingdownadarkalley Walkingdownadarkalley 
        Chapter: 3/14 
        Summary: It all started when Powder put up a wedding invitation on the fridge.I asked her not to mention Caitlyn, yet she openly recalls old stories and memories in a fond manner, a way to tease me. Each one is a stab to the heart, but over the years the pain numbed down to a dull, muted ache.ORSeveral years after a break up and zero communication, Vi gets a sudden invite to her ex’s wedding in London. Powder encourages her to go, but Vi isn’t sure she’s ready to see Caitlyn after things ended badly.
        Contents: Chapter 3: Flight Anxiety
    

    

        
          
          
            I warned y'all that my updates would be stupidly random
          
        

  

  
  
    
    I had no idea what was appropriate for a wedding gift. I kept returning to the website for ideas, and it mostly just looked like aesthetically pleasing house items like bowls and napkin holders. But the small market in town was more akin to that of a Dollar Store. And no matter how practical, gifting her new shampoo didn’t really seem like the right message to send. Not like I could’ve taken that on the plane anyways. I was searching for something that said,  ‘congratulations but also it's totally awkward that I’m here but I’m still happy for you!’  yet remained classy. I was somewhat surprised when they didn’t have a card for that, as these places always have cards for literally  any  occasion.  But then I saw it. A mug. A  specific mug. And a mug that was practically identical to a handmade mug Caitlyn would drink her coffee out of every morning once upon a time. It was blue washed, but with little white bunnies hopping around the entire outside of it. It looked like they put stickers on the mug before dyeing it to make the bunny shape. It wasn’t insanely detailed or special, but it was cute, and Caitlyn liked it. She got in the habit of using it every morning because, according to her, it was the perfect serving size for her first coffee of the day.  I grabbed it off the shelf, immediately inspecting the  sh@t  out of it. The label on the bottom belonged to the store and I tried peeling it off only to reveal a non branded bottom. Someone probably stole these designs and mass produced them, as so often happens to artists. Because I was pretty sure Caitlyn bought  her  mug from a local art event when we went on a road trip. This one was generic, not authentic, and had brothers and sisters in different colors with different animals. There were red ones with birds, yellow ones with cats, green ones with dogs, and even purple with bats. But despite it being a reproduction of the real thing, how  insane  was it that I found this the day before seeing her again? It almost felt like fate, though I didn’t believe in such things. It was a reasonable price, and just as I started to walk away it hit me that  ‘I should also probably get one for her fiancé too right?’  It indeed was  their  wedding, not  just Caitlyn’s. So I turned on my heels and grabbed the bird one too, rushing to the register before I could think about it any further. Before I could think about the implications of buying Caitlyn something from  our previous life together, or that I was christening her new one with the same mug plus a matching mate. When I sat them down on the front counter, I heard an almost immediate greeting from a familiar voice, and one that put me at ease the same way my sister’s does.  “Is that all for you this fine afternoon,  ma’am? ” I shook my head at his antics and phony attitude, grinning as I dug around for my wallet. His voice was laced with fake pleasantries and a joking grin, as this particular cashier recognized me the moment I came into view. I suppose he decided it would be funny to be overly polite and throw on a ridiculous customer service act when he indeed knew I hated that sh@t. I ignored his little joke as I finally managed to grab my money. “Benzo got you workin’ the front today?” “Yes,  oh my god,  Vi it’s  so boring.” Looking up I saw those puppy dog eyes, ones he’s had years to master, though he still is yet to learn they never worked on me. Other than that, he looked like he always did, tall, with his work apron on and his nametag in place. His white hair flopped from side to side when he made exaggerated movements, like when he’d gesture wildly at nothing. His playful mood that day was clearly born from his boredom, trying to keep himself entertained, and those pathetic puppy dog eyes, upon second glance, had a plea in them too. “ No, Ekko  ,” my voice took on that parenting tone I have stored away from raising Powder. “I’m not making up an emergency to get you out of work,  again .” “C’mon!” he complained. “It’s worked before!” “ No  ,” I said again. “It worked  once  and then the last four times you had me try to fool Benzo you got your ass beat and I got an earful. I’d like to avoid that, thank you.” Slapping down my money (and exact change might I add) Ekko groaned at me and counted it to double check before putting the transaction through. The store wasn’t busy in the slightest, undoubtedly the source of the boy's boredom. I figured I’d indulge him and chat for a bit considering he didn’t have much else to do. He caught me up on his college, a funny story of Powder from the last time they hung out, and definitely talked my ear off about how he wished he had a more exciting job. Any time I tried to offer up some friendly advice, he’d just whine and call me old. That with each passing year I became less and less fun as I got more and more  elderly . To that I responded by plopping myself to sit on the small counter between us and snag him in a noogie. And I didn’t let go until he was begging for mercy. Eventually, though, the conversation changed direction. “What’re the mugs for?” he asked. “Hm?” my mind was elsewhere, forgetting for a moment the bag I had in my hand. Ekko nodded to it. “The mugs you just bought,” he clarified, then leaned forward on the counter with both arms. “You’ve never really been one for… cutesy decor.” “They aren’t  that  cutesy…” Ekko guffawed loudly at me, almost making me flinch.  “Vi, there’s  birds  and  bunnies  on them. You drink out of styrofoam cups you steal from work, your protein shake cups with the wire b@lls, or you drink from  nothing . Maybe the faucet. Or a hose.” “You make me sound like a feral animal.” My brow furrowed once more. “ Well… ” he trailed off, and I smacked him, eliciting a yelp. “You kids outta learn to respect your elders!” I joked, trying to avoid the question as best as I could. My grip was tight on my bag now as I desperately wanted to avoid this subject. Ekko often joined in on teasing me with Powder about Caitlyn, but he didn’t know the full story, how serious it all was, so he may unknowingly cross a line and I really didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with it at that moment.   “So you admit it!” He screamed, and I sighed, relieved.  I got lucky and he didn’t prod on about the mugs.  And shortly after, I took my leave back home and arrived to see that Powder had fallen asleep on the couch.  She looked as sweet as when she was a little baby, no one could guess the constant atrocities she said to me and practically everyone else. I didn’t wake her, and instead threw a blanket over her. Taking a nap before we left for the airport seemed like a good idea, as we’d need to be awake in the very early hours of the morning that quickly approached. So, I wrapped the mugs up with what little wrapping paper we had (Christmas themed, or technically winter, so I hoped she didn’t mind snowflakes) and set them securely in the center of my suitcase. Then I set one alarm (or ten) and took my own nap on top of my covers. I simply flopped down face first, and I was out like a light, never realizing how tired I was. . “ Would you stop that, for Christ sake?”   “Huh? Oh–” I put the pen down. “ Sorry .” “ Sheesh ,” Powder sighed. “Why are you so nervous? I haven’t seen you like this in years.” “It’s… nothing, yeah, I dunno… just nothing,” I blabbed. Before, Powder and I had been doodling, thus the pen in my hand. We were just waiting at our gate in the airport, the last group to board. And when we stopped our doodling in favor of just relaxing back and doom scrolling Instagram, I suppose I subconsciously started clicking the pen over and over again out of nerves. It was kind of a secret. But I tried to own it.  I have a fear of flying. It never made sense to me how those big metal boxes could stay up in the sky for so long, or that they didn’t get struck by lightning more often. When I was a kid I was deathly afraid of the air, having no connection to the ground. Heights didn’t bother me as long as there was a way to get down to the ground, which there usually was. Rocks, windowsills, telephone poles, a tree; I could use my environment around me and get safely down to the ground. So no, I wasn’t scared of heights. I was scared of being helpless if the plane started to go down, and dying because of some idiot’s mistakes. As I grew older, I got better about it, usually just sleeping as much as I could for the duration of the flight. And it wasn’t too bad of a fear, as my broke ass wasn’t traveling all that much. So I was pretty much all good. Except for now.  Because I had another secret. The plane was the least of my troubles now, my anxiety spiking from the undeniable fact that in less than 24 hours I would see Caitlyn Kiramman again. Just talking about doing it and being mature and calm and collected was easy (at least compared to what’s next); I thought I could totally handle this. But now my mind was drifting to reality more and more, and the idea of her just standing in front of me after all those years made me shake down to my bones. But I didn’t want Powder to know that, so to her, this plane ride was definitely going to be a long one of coaching me through breathing exercises I learned in therapy. The idea of Caitlyn Kiramman still lived in my head through memories, both good and bad. Like a favorite book, I had every detail, every word memorized. A shameful fact that I hardly admitted to myself most of the time. But I indeed did have Caitlyn’s every detail stored away in a filing cabinet somewhere in my brain.  She wasn’t exactly the kind of woman you let go easily. Especially when she was the one to aid me in so many personal journeys. Those kinds of people do tend to stick. But I had told everyone around me I’d moved on, completely. And despite telling Powder we were going to the wedding for some final closure, as far as I was concerned, I  was  over her. Old habits just die hard, I supposed. Three years don't just suddenly disappear overnight. Of  course not. Even though I knew she was very likely different, completely different, from how I remembered her, that didn’t stop me from sweating with nerves. The last words we exchanged with each other were those in anger. No goodbyes, no awkward small talk while she moved out. She left while I was at work, not even giving me a chance to wave her off as she got in a cab for the airport.  
   Because she had decided to take that job after all. 
 The last time we saw each other we were both crying, both exhausted, and both voiceless as our shouting had gone on too long. She stormed out, leaving me alone in our kitchen… And now I was going to be seeing her again. Staring her right in the face. And I wasn’t entirely sure as to why it was freaking me out so much. Did I think she was going to still be mad at me? Did I think I was going to suddenly get mad at her again? Perhaps the fear of an old argument bubbling back up after years of burying it just terrified me to the point of almost throwing up. “ Hey , Earth to Vi,” my sister was shaking my shoulder. “Our group is boarding.” “Oh,” I said dumbly. The ocean of thoughts in my head was so close to drowning me, and I had a hard time keeping myself present. That much was obvious. Looking at Powder for only a second, I then stood and made sure we had our tickets ready and in hand.   
   Well… here we go. 
 
   Sh@t. 
 . The flight wasn’t half bad. To be honest most of my energy went into trying to push Caitlyn from my mind, so I hardly paid attention to the anxieties of the air. At one point I did doze off, only to be woken up by a fleeting bad dream that I couldn’t tell you the details about. Powder entertained herself with a sketchbook the whole time, drawing abstract scribbles of what looked like different monsters battling each other. I smiled when I caught a glimpse of that, reminded of a game we used to play. But before we knew it we landed. The constant river of English accents was overwhelming. There weren’t really a lot of English people in our town. I could count them on one hand. And even then I think they’ve moved away now because my memories of them only reside in the time I was in high school. Hearing the familiar round vowels of the infamous London accent was making my head spin. The only place that used to come from was the one and the only Caitlyn Kiramman, and I had grown to associate it with her.  I avoided watching movies or TV shows with English people in them for a while.  Maybe that’s pathetic, but the way she talked, so proper, so uptight, was so charming and endearing. I loved everything about it. From the silly words we didn’t use in the US to the way she pronounced words ending in  –ittle . 
   Little. Brittle. Tittle. Spittle. 
 It always made me laugh and her cheeks would turn pink. I’d pinch them to get rid of her pout and make it worse, usually a shout coming soon after that. But it always ended in giggles. Those memories from over the years started to surface as I heard passersby in conversation, catching a sentence or two that felt all too familiar. Powder managed to ground me, either accidentally or intentionally. I’m not sure if she noticed my rigid movements and darting eyes as I surveyed the airport, but regardless her grip on my forearm as she tugged me to luggage was a well needed distraction and pull back to reality.  Luckily our things didn’t get lost overseas and as soon as we retrieved our bags we were stepping out into the chilly London air, puffs of hot air expelling from our lips. Even though we were well into April, Europe hadn’t caught the memo yet. Most of the north remained chilly and rainy, spare for a few warm days of sun that lulled everyone into a sweet, false complacency.  I shuddered and rubbed my arms, my hoodie all of a sudden becoming inadequate. A taxi pulled up not too shortly after I waved one down, and both my sister and I were relieved to get into the car with blasting heaters on. We sighed together on accident, which made us giggle, yet we were silent on the way to the hotel. For different reasons, we were both absolutely drained and positively dreading the bachelorette party we’d find ourselves at in only a few hours. . 
   “Holy f@ck…” 
 “My sentiments exactly…” Powder was gaping up at the ceiling, following me into the hotel room. We both were staring upwards, equally entranced by the giant skylight on the ceiling. We practically felt like we were outside with how much of the ceiling was actually just window. We both couldn’t deny it was stunning;  egregiously pompous , but stunning nonetheless. The rest of the room was just as fancy, every surface shining and clean, the two beds made and pressed without a wrinkle, a toilet seat you could eat off of. Insane.  Powder was more keen on exploring the many amenities and odd, but nice things around the space. While she was stuffing small body wash bottles into her bag, I was busy unpacking mine. The glitz and glamor only held my attention for so long before it all became boring and superficial to me. Instead I pulled my suit out to hang up in the closet. Unsurprisingly, there was a steamer in there too, so any creases that the flight over caused in my one and only suit could be smoothed out by tomorrow.  
   Oh God, tomorrow? 
 
   Caitlyn’s getting married tomorrow. 
 I dusted it off despite nothing being there, just to make sure it wasn’t more f@ck@d up than it usually was, and once I was satisfied I let myself fall onto one of the beds. As I flopped down on my stomach I let out a long, dramatic sigh that turned into a groan. I heard Powder still messing around with things in the bathroom, but the noise subsided quickly as my brain faded in and out of the reality of what was around me. Even though I had slept the majority of the flight, my eyes remained heavy, and my brain was already tired. Through the stress of travel in general, I’d been out of energy anyways, but combine that with the mental exhaustion of just the situation , and I clearly had a lot more resting to do.  My mind was dragging its feet, still unable to fully come to grips with the fact that we were now in another country. Another  continent  . I was attending a wedding tomorrow, and a wedding of an ex I haven’t seen in  five years  (I finally did the math on the plane to see exactly just how long it had been). My stomach was in knots, threatening to make me sick, and it felt like a black hole collapsing in on itself. Anxiety was controlling every bone in my body, making my legs shake without remorse. I couldn’t help it. And even though I was trying my best not to spiral down the  “why?”  question rabbit hole again, it was increasing in difficulty with each passing second.  So to avoid it, I closed my eyes and willed my brain to turn off. I’d simply just sleep until we had to get ready for the bachelorette party in a few hours. It was sometime in the early evening at a restaurant I already forgot the name of; no doubt a terribly posh one. Though I hoped there would be something there that I  could  buy. I had managed to exchange my cash for the right currency, because I certainly didn’t expect the family to buy everyone meals. Even though they  did  rent rooms for overseas guests…  make it make sense, brain . But I didn’t want to take chances. With these kinds of people you never knew when the kindness would stop, and when payment was reinstated.  I trusted Powder to wake me on time, too lazy to grab my phone from where it slid off the bed and hit the floor. Merely, I let my thoughts drift to that comfortable black space of sleep to escape the world around me, even if just for a little bit.'
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