Read Online The Trouble with Flying by Rachel Morgan - Free Book Online
Authors: Rachel Morgan
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parking space. I stare at him. We haven’t exchanged a word since the night before I left, and now he’s sitting next to me pretending it never happened? “Did you manage to get to all the places on your Top Tourist Destinations in London list?” he asks, seemingly oblivious to my state of shock and confusion.
Since there doesn’t seem to be anything else to do, I haltingly tell Matt about the places Julia and I visited. Before long, he starts filling in my silent gaps with stories of his own visits to London, leaving me to watch the sugar cane fields rushing past and occasionally adding ‘Uh huh’ or ‘Oh yeah, I saw that too’ or some other appropriate comment.
As we turn off the highway and head through the streets that lead to my home, I imagine how different this drive would be if Aiden were beside me, seeing all of this for the first time. What would he think of the casino ‘kingdom’ in the middle of the sugar cane? What would he think of the minibus taxis blasting their music as they swerve around us and screech away at double the speed limit? Would he comment on how early the sun goes down compared to an English summer? The humidity? The space ? And—as we turn into Girvan Avenue—what would he think of the fact that I live opposite an old, rundown cemetery? Would he think it’s creepy? Cool? Not important at all? Would he be commenting on how large everyone’s gardens are compared to the tiny backyards in London?
“… more books than I’ve ever seen in one place,” Matt says at he parks in front of the gate to my house. “I knew you’d love it. You did go there, didn’t you?”
“Hmm? Sorry?” I pull my gaze from the window and focus on Matt.
“Foyles. That giant bookstore in Charing Cross Road.”
“Oh, yes. It was one of the first places Jules took me to.”
The gate starts rolling open—Mom must have been on the lookout for us—as Matt jumps out the car and goes to the boot to fetch my luggage. I undo my seatbelt and climb out slowly. I breathe deeply and remind myself not to do anything weird, like start crying.
“Hey, are you feeling okay?” Matt asks. He slams the boot shut and wheels both suitcases to my side. “You’ve been very quiet. Did you get any sleep on the plane?”
“Uh, some.” I rub my eyes and follow him up the driveway. “But, yeah, I’m quite tired.”
Mom runs down the path from the front door, past Matt, and wraps me in a tight hug. “Welcome home!” she sings in my ear.
I hug her back and say, “You know I was only gone for three weeks, right?”
“Yes, yes,” she steps back and examines me—for what? Could I really change that much in three weeks? “But you know I miss my chickens when they’re not home.” She gives me another quick hug, then pulls me up the path. “Aunt Maggie and Uncle Tom are coming for dinner, and I cooked Mexican. Your favourite. Will you be joining us, Matt?” she asks as we step through the front door to where Matt is leaning my suitcases against the wall.
“Oh, I’d love to, but I need to get home right away. We’re heading to the farm just now. Spending the week there.”
“Oh, that’s lovely,” Mom says. “But why are you leaving so late? Why not go tomorrow morning?”
Matt shrugs. “I don’t know. My mom wants to. We were supposed to leave earlier today, but I told them I wanted to see Sarah before we left. Those three weeks without her were just too long.” He pulls me into a sideways hug and kisses the top of my head while I try to wipe the look of confusion and I-just-tasted-something-bad off my face.
“Sarah! My favourite middle daughter!” Dad calls from the lounge before striding into the entrance hall and greeting me with a hug. “I hope you videoed your entire visit to the Science Museum.”
I pull out of the hug and say, “Darn, I knew I forgot something.” At the look of disappointment on his face, I quickly add, “Relax, Dad. Jules and I did at least five mini interviews at
Since there doesn’t seem to be anything else to do, I haltingly tell Matt about the places Julia and I visited. Before long, he starts filling in my silent gaps with stories of his own visits to London, leaving me to watch the sugar cane fields rushing past and occasionally adding ‘Uh huh’ or ‘Oh yeah, I saw that too’ or some other appropriate comment.
As we turn off the highway and head through the streets that lead to my home, I imagine how different this drive would be if Aiden were beside me, seeing all of this for the first time. What would he think of the casino ‘kingdom’ in the middle of the sugar cane? What would he think of the minibus taxis blasting their music as they swerve around us and screech away at double the speed limit? Would he comment on how early the sun goes down compared to an English summer? The humidity? The space ? And—as we turn into Girvan Avenue—what would he think of the fact that I live opposite an old, rundown cemetery? Would he think it’s creepy? Cool? Not important at all? Would he be commenting on how large everyone’s gardens are compared to the tiny backyards in London?
“… more books than I’ve ever seen in one place,” Matt says at he parks in front of the gate to my house. “I knew you’d love it. You did go there, didn’t you?”
“Hmm? Sorry?” I pull my gaze from the window and focus on Matt.
“Foyles. That giant bookstore in Charing Cross Road.”
“Oh, yes. It was one of the first places Jules took me to.”
The gate starts rolling open—Mom must have been on the lookout for us—as Matt jumps out the car and goes to the boot to fetch my luggage. I undo my seatbelt and climb out slowly. I breathe deeply and remind myself not to do anything weird, like start crying.
“Hey, are you feeling okay?” Matt asks. He slams the boot shut and wheels both suitcases to my side. “You’ve been very quiet. Did you get any sleep on the plane?”
“Uh, some.” I rub my eyes and follow him up the driveway. “But, yeah, I’m quite tired.”
Mom runs down the path from the front door, past Matt, and wraps me in a tight hug. “Welcome home!” she sings in my ear.
I hug her back and say, “You know I was only gone for three weeks, right?”
“Yes, yes,” she steps back and examines me—for what? Could I really change that much in three weeks? “But you know I miss my chickens when they’re not home.” She gives me another quick hug, then pulls me up the path. “Aunt Maggie and Uncle Tom are coming for dinner, and I cooked Mexican. Your favourite. Will you be joining us, Matt?” she asks as we step through the front door to where Matt is leaning my suitcases against the wall.
“Oh, I’d love to, but I need to get home right away. We’re heading to the farm just now. Spending the week there.”
“Oh, that’s lovely,” Mom says. “But why are you leaving so late? Why not go tomorrow morning?”
Matt shrugs. “I don’t know. My mom wants to. We were supposed to leave earlier today, but I told them I wanted to see Sarah before we left. Those three weeks without her were just too long.” He pulls me into a sideways hug and kisses the top of my head while I try to wipe the look of confusion and I-just-tasted-something-bad off my face.
“Sarah! My favourite middle daughter!” Dad calls from the lounge before striding into the entrance hall and greeting me with a hug. “I hope you videoed your entire visit to the Science Museum.”
I pull out of the hug and say, “Darn, I knew I forgot something.” At the look of disappointment on his face, I quickly add, “Relax, Dad. Jules and I did at least five mini interviews at
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