The drive

We sat on the plane for a few hours just looking outside the window at the odd shapes and patterns of all the clouds. We started to land when the pilot announced over the intercom, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please be advised that we are heading through a bit of a rough storm, and there will be some bumps and inclines. Please remain seated and fasten your seatbelts tight. Thank you, and we will be landing shortly." I looked at both mine and Claire's seatbelts to make sure they were tight. "Crim, I feel like my breakfast is gonna meet the ground any minute now." I stared at her blankly for a hot second before realizing what she was trying to say. "Oh, uh, It's going to be okay. We are almost there, just take deep breaths." Each time the plane tilted to the left or right really far because of the storm, Claire would almost gag. When we finally landed, Claire bolted out the plane tunnel and straight to the nearest bathroom. I walked behind her trying not to laugh, otherwise I would seem like a horrible "parent". When she came out of the bathroom, she looked gravely ill. "Woah Claire! Are you okay?" She started to gather her things up, then stopped to glare a sarcastic look at me. "Well I mean, I just threw the heck up but I guess so!" Only she didn't say heck.

I couldn't help but giggle a little bit, then I burst out laughing. "Oh wow, what's so funny?" She put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow, as in what I used to call, "The grumpy penguin pose." "Hahaha I just haven't had this much fun since I was with you last." My face was red and a little teary, but I got my sister to laugh a little as well. On our way to the terminal bus station we got some airport food such as pretzels, donuts, and other completely "organic and nutrition weighted" items. We had landed in Asheville so we still had a ways to drive. I'd never been a fan of driving long distances, but I had to do a lot of it, sometimes not legally, during the rough years of my life. Just trying to live. Just trying to survive. At least I was good at it. As we drove up to Brevard, we talked about how things progressed in our lives since we were separated. I told Claire about the different places I went while hiding from people who were looking for me. I told her about all the different people I met, what they were like, what I was like to them. I told her about how a lot of days I wouldn't eat, and how some days I felt so faint that I would fall asleep for a long while and wake up at someone's house. I told her that I would run away from those nice people who found me, saved me from starvation, because that's just how much I didn't trust people. That was just how much I didn't want to go back. Claire told me about how she educated herself when she stopped going to school because Aunt May didn't care enough. She told me about the long periods of time where she just had to tell herself that everything would be just fine because there was nobody there for her. I felt a wave of guilt. Guilt for leaving my sister who I loved, behind with the same people I ran away from, who I hated. Guilt for not ever sending her letters because I told myself it was too risky. Guilt that I was so scared of anyone finding me that I tried not to even think of my sister. It was only when I noticed Claire shaking my arm, when I was so caught up in my thoughts of guilt, that I didn't notice I was crying. Not the soft and silent type of crying, the full on ugly crying. Snot dripping from my nose, my face all askew and scrunched. "Crimson. sis!" I snapped out of my own self pity and focused on my sister. I didn't want to tell her that I did think of her, yet denied coming to save her. I didn't want to tell her how I thought of myself, and how shameful I was. "Sorry. I'm just really happy we are together again. And I'm not ever going to leave you behind." Claire relaxed her worried facial expression and giggled. "I thought you were gonna like explode or something! Don't scare me like that!" I laughed and we continued to drive while lip syncing to our favorite nostalgic childhood music.