Flying To Houston

I set pen to paper and wrote out another scene that fit the description of my character. I wrote several scenes. I drew another line. I scanned back through the many scenarios I had started—fun times with family, with friends, all material needs met. Tack onto all of that a college degree. But what would his struggle be? Physical disease? Mental disorders? The hidden undertones of abuse? Pain that no one else would understand? A loss of motor function? The death of a loved one?

There were so many possibilities. So many kinds of conflict that I had written about time and time again. Did I include something more personal? A conflict that resonated closer to home than not? Was it something like that Admin183 was looking for? Or was it something else entirely? My thoughts returned to Josh. Developmentally challenged due to a surgery; riddled with pain on a daily basis, and not able to do much more than minimal movements and sounds.

"Writer's block?" Dad asked as I flipped to a clean page.

"Nope."

I set my pen against the page and started anew. I fleshed out happy scenario after happy scenario, a few with something small forcing the character to pause and take notice, but few others are aware of how often this starts to occur. A family celebration to congratulate the main character on completing a PhD in Neuroscience and his younger sister on completing Junior High. But the main character…

"Time to board now, Kathrine," Dad said. His voice derailed my flow.

"Alright." I closed my notebook and picked up my bag.

I presented my ticket to a man waiting by the door. He scanned it then handed it back to me. I entered the door and walked down a ramp to the entrance of the plane. I followed the people in front of me slowly, stepping carefully as I walked down the aisle to my seat near the back of the plane. I had just turned into my row of seats when Dad touched my arm.

"I'm just a few rows behind you if you need anything," he said.

I nodded then shimmied to my seat.

I opened my bag and ate one of the snack bars. I was not feeling very hungry, but knew it would be best to have a little something since I had been up for several hours. I reopened my notebook. I scanned the last paragraph to get my rhythm back. I almost set my pen against the page when an announcement came on and the plane started backing away from the terminal. I slid my bag under the seat in front of me, fastened my seat belt then tuned out the world around me as I returned to my story.

Horrible food poisoning. A grand mal convulsive seizure that puts him in the hospital. In and out of consciousness. Major disorientation. Can't move.…

"Excuse me, Miss," a man said. "Miss?"

I turned and looked up.

"Would you like anything to eat or drink?"

I shook my head no. I had other things in my bag I could eat if I chose and I still wasn't feeling very hungry.

"Okay." The man talked to other people around me.

I turned back to my story. Now that he was waking, what type of damage did I want him to discover? What after effects did I want the sporadic pain, headaches, and seizure to leave this man? I looked out the window and watched the sunlight and the clouds as I thought. My eyes dropped slightly as I pondered the weak body I left in the hospital bed. I only let my eyes close a moment when a jolt brought me upright. I looked around. No one else seemed affected by the jolt.

"Welcome to Houston International," a woman said over the speakers. "We will be taxiing for the next several minutes and we ask that you keep your seat belts fastened until the plane has stopped and the seat belt light has been turned off…."

The announcement continued for another minute, but I let out my breath then pulled my bag out from under the seat. I put my notebook away and pulled out the directions I needed to get to the college. Guess what I had written would have to be good enough. I remained seated after we stopped and most everyone gathered their belongings and shuffled out of the plane. My dad waited for me in the aisle. We left the plane together. Now to find baggage claim for my other bag. I stopped once we were out the door to look at the many signs.

"Are you doing okay, Kathrine?" Dad asked.

"Tired," I said.

"Did you eat while we were on the plane?"

"A snack bar when we boarded." I took a step towards the sign pointing for baggage claim and nearly fell over.

Dad supported me over to a man driving a multi-seated cart. "Can we get a ride to baggage claim?" he asked the driver. "My daughter has blood sugar problems."

"Sure," the driver replied.

The man helped my dad seat me on the cart.

If my parents were willing to lie to strangers, they really didn't care… about anything. What other lies had they told that I did not know about? That I had not picked up on or ignored? My dad made me eat a few more bars while we were driven down to baggage claim for my suitcase. Once there, he made me sit while he retrieved my bag. He didn't look happy. He bought a few waters and made sure I had emptied half the bottle before he called a taxi that would drive us out to the University.

I watched the world outside as we left the airport. We passed through a lot of flat land. Green fields, yellow fields, fallow fields. There seemed to be very few trees and hills, compared to the images of the University grounds. This definitely wasn't home. I shifted my tails, layering them a little differently beneath my coat.

"How's your story coming, Kathrine?" Dad asked.

"I've written myself into a corner," I answered, despite knowing he was just trying to make it seem like he cared. "I don't know enough about neurology to piece together what after effects there could be after a seizure."

"Much of that would depend on the severity of the seizure and how many occurred."

I turned to my dad confused. I hadn't expected any kind of response. Still, the response gave me information I didn't have before. "A person can have more than one seizure?"

He nodded. "Some individuals have seizures multiple times a day."

"Huh."

I turned back to the window and pondered how that would change how difficult movement and speech would be upon my character's awakening. What steps my character would take based on his background and the challenge he wakes up to. I pondered a little more before taking out my notebook and jotting down notes/ideas then drawing various arrows between the words to try and figure out which order would best show his struggle. I stopped when the taxi turned down another road. Green grass and tall trees surrounded us now. It was as if we had stepped into a whole different world. Even Dad sat up straighter. The cab driver stopped the car next to a big white building with massive pillars at the top of the stairs.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Dad asked me.

"Yes," I replied.

"That will be $60.00," the cab driver said.

Dad paid him and we climbed out with our bags. I observed the building, the tall pillars and windows above. There was a dark haired woman standing in the window closest to my right. Her head turned toward us for a few moments. Turning myself, I observed the trees, the plants that grew between or around them, and the occasional bird hiding midst the leaves.

"You weren't given a map of this place were you?" Dad asked.

"There was one on the website. I didn't think to print it off." I turned back to the building as a man came down the stairs.