Arrivals

Scooter’s Nessaja is blaring out of the boxes. The white tiled basement is stuffy. It smells like Axe® body spray and sweat. The condensation drips off the wall and leaves tiny puddles in the corners of the room.

Nobody cares. Everyone jumps up and down. Fists are going up, pounding with the rhythm. More jumping. Giggles and shouts. Faces are sunburnt from the last days on the ski hill. The energy levels are high. The song switches to Nothing else matters. Hands are dropped. Feet shuffle and a few students decide to retreat from the dance floor.

“Did you hear, they brought vodka.”

“Who?”

“I’m not sure. Alex maybe.”

“You wanna try.”

Marianne hesitates but then shakes her head. Immediately, she regrets her answer as Claudia snorts. She opens her mouth to defend herself.

We shouldn’t be drinking. The teachers will check. Don’t be a party pooper. It’s not as if you’ll finish a whole bottle alone.

“Hey, Mary.”

Johan’s voice pulls Marianne out of her internal struggle. Mary’s face heats, while Claudia smirks. Both girls turn towards the waiting boy.

“I see if I can get some of that booze.”

Claudia pats her friend on the shoulder. Every fiber in Mary’s body wants Claudia back. Her stomach feels like she swallowed stones.

“Do you have some time? I want to ask you something.”

No, I don’t. Don’t ask me anything. But … maybe this is the only time I will ever be asked. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Maybe it’s just a question about the trip back home.

“Mary? Would you come?”

The small squeak in Johan’s voice makes Marianne agree. They leave the basement with interested eyes following them. The girl hears some encouraging shouting directed at Johan. But a few other teenagers are giggling. Mary’s steps are unsteady and slow.

I didn’t even drink the vodka. What if the teachers ask where we are going? Will they check if we drank. What if they don’t believe me. Maybe I look drunk. My face must be quite red. And my hands are so sweaty. Do your hands get sweaty when you’re drunk?

“Hey, well … hm.”

Mary looks up. She followed the boy without paying attention. Snow coldness seeps through her boots and she shivers. The Austrian late winter night is cold. Lights on the ski hill observe them like tiny glowing eyes. Her tongue is uncomfortably large in her mouth.

“Ah … so … do you want to … hm … be my girlfriend?”

What? Why? I mean. Cool. Finally, someone asked me. But … is this not too sudden? He is cute, but we’re so young. I shouldn’t say yes.

“Yes.”

It’s a whisper but Johan’s hand immediately grabs hers. Her stomach is still in knots. Her heart is still beating fast.

“Hm … well, can I … maybe … get a … kiss?”

Marianne wants to wipe her hand on her skirt, but he is still holding it. He bows down a bit. He is gazing at her lips. Mary puckers them. Half a step forward. On tiptoes. Her lips land on his cold cheek.

“Hm … mom.”

“Yeah, what is it?”

Marianne looks at her mother’s back. She has unpacked her suitcase. The ski equipment is still in their corridor. The whole time she has avoided her mother’s questions regarding the ski trip. The knot in her stomach has gotten tighter. The kitchen feels smaller than before. The colors are brighter. Her mother looks shorter, but she is still taller than Marianne.

“Can you … I need to tell you something.”

I need to tell her. Maybe she says I’m too young. Then I can break it off. How do you break up with someone? Will the others laugh? Will Johan be angry? Maybe mom can tell him I can’t be his girlfriend. But what if he’s the only boyfriend I’ll ever have?

“What is it?”

As usual her mother’s voice holds a tone of disinterest. All of a sudden, there is so much saliva in Marianne’s mouth. She gulps. Loudly. She winces and her fingers twist in knots as well.

“Well … hm … it’s about the ski trip.”

“Ah.”

“I … I got a … I have a boyfriend now.”

Had she just spoken with her socks, she now looks up now. She is searching her mother’s face for a reaction.

Say something. You are against it, right? It’s a boy. I’m too young. You are not happy. Everyone is always asking. Now I can say that I have a boyfriend. Are you proud I finally have a boyfriend?

“Who is it?”

Her mother’s voice is flat. Her facial expression as tense as usual. The knots in Marianne’s stomach sting then tighten.

“It’s Johan. You know …”

“Ah, yeah. With the divorced mother.”

“Yeah … that one.”

“Well, I guess you’re almost a grown-up now.”

A warm hand grabs hers and Marianne follows the man through the airport.

“Which airline did you say again?”

Marianne’s sweaty other hand grabs her suitcase tighter. The backpack feels heavy. Tears are welling up in her. The man repeats his question. Marianne finally answers quietly.

I know my luggage is too heavy. I weighed it. I left so much behind. Should I have sent a parcel?

“We’re here. Go on.”

He lets go of her hand. His warmth disappears. Marianne immediately turns her head. He smirks and comes up next to her. The air crew at the counter looks at her impatiently. There are no other passengers in line. Marianne pulls out her flight information and documents. The lady behind the counter types vigorously. Then she shakes her head. She ignores Marianne. Instead, she turns her attention to the man on Marianne’s side. A conversation in their mother tongue ensues. First, Marianne tries to follow. Her heart starts to beat faster.

“Are you sure you confirmed the flight?”

His voice pulls her out of her daze. She nods, the knot in her stomach tightens.

“Yes. My … my father called for me. He confirmed.”

Papa told me to call. I should have called. Now I make a big mess out of everything. But I’m sure papa called them. He always makes sure that I …

“You can’t take this flight. It’s overbooked.”

“What? But … no, I need to go home today.”

“You are sure you confirmed your flight.”

“Yes. It’s important. I called them a … three days ago.”

He looks at her. His left eyebrow rises slightly but then he nods. The discussion with the lady behind the counter starts anew. In the end, the lady attacks the computer again. He pushes her towards the counter.

“We’re sorry, but there is nothing we can do about this flight. Instead, I put you on flight number CA965. Boarding is at 1 pm. You can find the gate information here. You’ll have to head to Terminal 3.”

“Oh. Ah. Thank you.”

Automatically, Marianne bows a few times. He smiles at her. She grabs his hand again. His fingers enclose hers but not as tightly as before. Her luggage disappears with the conveyor belt. No more mishaps. She will have to go home now. Tears sting in her eyes.

Together, they head toward the first security check. She wants to kiss him, but he doesn’t like it. Not in public. Holding hands is barely acceptable.

Marianne tries to find words in his language. Her head is a mess. She only stumbles over words in English. He lets go of her hand.

“You can try some of the snacks. They’re quite yummy.”

Marianne points at the souvenirs she brought. Claudia’s eyes only graze the colorful packaging. Nobody touches the snacks. Marianne twists her fingers.

I wanna eat some. But then there will be less for them. I’m sure they’ll try them later.

“Ah, by the way. How was your trip? Did anything happen?”

A smirk and four pairs of curious eyes are directed at her. Marianne feels the heat on her cheeks. She looks away, which only elicits shrieks from her friends.

“So, you really did it? What’s his name?”

“Do you have a photo?”

“How old is he?”

“Don’t pressure her. Mary, don’t let them push you. But … did you really …”

Be confident. It’s not just a fictional crush. Or … Johan.

“Yeah, I’ve a boyfriend. He’s a bit older. But … he’s quite nice.”

More shrieks and questions. Before Marianne can answer, the door opens and Claudia’s mother appears, a phone in hand.

“It’s Oliver.”

Everyone turns quiet. Marianne swivels on the chair, drying her palms on her thighs. Claudia takes the phone. A voice is audible, but the words aren’t. Claudia’s expression freezes. Within a second, the atmosphere shifts. Then Claudia leaves the room, her mother on her heels. The door closes.

“Well, that sounds like drama. As usual.”

“It wouldn’t be Claudi if there wasn’t drama. But didn’t he already have a new girlfriend?”

Marianne opens her mouth. The conversation flows past her. While the others chat away, the snacks go untouched.

Standing at the counter, the lady in the uniform cast a professional smile at her. Marianne reciprocates the expression and hands over her passport. The flight attendant scans her document and prints the luggage sticker.

“Boarding is at 1 pm. You will have to head to …”

“Terminal 3. Yes, thank you.”

With her luggage gone, she heads to the first security check. There is no one to bid farewell to her. Her light handbag on her side she passes the first check. A few bows are exchanged with the security personnel, but Marianne finally steps into the duty-free area. The shops are bright. The air is filled with sweet scents and Marianne’s heart starts beating a bit faster. With a smile she passes the perfume aisles.

Mum would love these. Maybe I should buy some liquor as well. But papa isn’t supposed to drink too much.

She skips the international snacks, heading further into the shop. The packaging of local snacks has changed over the years. Subdued colors and simple fonts now try to advertise to a different audience.

She blinks. Her hand hovers over a package – loud yellow and red.

Ah, they still have these.

She swallows. The lump in her throat doesn’t want to disappear.

The conveyor belt has started rotating. But no suitcases are in sight. The crowd is getting bigger. There are children running around. People are complaining. Marianne stands in the crowd.

The first suitcase appears. The bright red luggage elicits a happy cry from a girl nearby. Her mother shushes her. The girl clamps her mouth shut and looks around. When her and Marianne’s eyes meet, Marianne smiles and nods. Tentatively the girl’s lips quiver. Eventually, they stretch into a wide grin.

Within the next ten minutes Marianne’s suitcase appears. She tries to heave it off the conveyor belt. Broad shoulders push past her. Marianne shrinks back just to see her bag land next to her.

“Hope you don’t mind. Mine was just right next to it.”

The tall woman smiles at her. It takes Marianne a moment to collect her thoughts.

“Thank you. I think, I might have overdone it with the shopping.”

Both chuckle. The woman leaves with her friends. Marianne switches on her phone.

Nothing.

Quickly, she types a short message to her parents. Then she checks the time and sighs.

After having passed customs, the sliding doors open. There are a few signs with names. Signs held by people with serious faces. There are people waiting for their loved ones. Their eyes are shining. Their smiles are wide. Marianne feels a sting in her heart. Another sigh escapes.

A squeal makes her look in the other direction. She blinks. Tears shoot into her eyes. Her vision blurs. There is another squeal. Quickly, she wipes her eyes on her sleeve. Her smile is wide.

They came.