I sit here and think: “has it been a dream?” It could have been… I
will not touch, see, or feel these things again any time soon. Not the
way I did.
The goodbyes cling to my mind as pieces of something that I never
grasped, and just left hanging in the air. My body believes it, my eyes
convince me, but my mind is having some trouble telling me that I
really am
back home. I’m back, but I’m not entirely back. A piece of me got left
behind. It was not meant to be this way… I was so happy before coming.
My friends could almost swear I had a half-face smile when saying I was
going back home, especially after one tough year.
Now that I’m here, everything is like a big illusion. I’m the one out
of place; things are not how they are supposed to be. What’s wrong with
me? I’m supposed to be so happy. So much I can’t handle it. But for all
the sadness I couldn’t feel or show in my pre-return to home, I got to
feel it now that I am truly back.
As it happens with most things, it strikes me a little bit later.
“Laugh with others, and cry alone” Suat had said. In presence of others I
smiled because I was so happy just thinking I was going home. Once in
the airplane, and with no looking back, I cried. I cried alone, hoping
no one would ask, no one would care. I cried because it was serious now,
the fact I wouldn’t see many of these people again, or at least, not
any time soon; but most of all, I cried because I didn’t get to have a
real good-bye.
It started with a party the night before my flight. We watched a
movie, ate pizza, drank a bit (of course we couldn’t get drunk the night
before my flight!!) We danced so much, we laughed, took pictures, and
had a lot of fun. When everyone left, I did the rest of my packing, last
few things I needed to get in my suitcase. Also, I needed to fit the
presents: a few kilos of books and chocolate. It took me forever. I
couldn’t concentrate. I was too slow. I hadn’t slept, and I didn’t
sleep. It was 8 am before I was ready. I had to leave many things behind
and throw away a great deal. I was supposed to meet Suat and the guys
at 7:30 at the metro stop, but they didn’t wait for me. By the time
Juliana, the new Aupair for the Jaecker family and my companion in my
last week in Frankfurt, and I got to the stop, there was no one there,
and I didn’t have my cellphone. We got to the airport at 9 a.m., and the
flight was at 10:40 a.m. Juliana helped me with my luggage; without her
I wouldn’t have made it to the airport. I tried to check in and the
machine wouldn’t read my ticket. A Lufthansa lady tried to help us with
the machine. Then she directed us to another counter. We went to the
service counter and the lady there said my ticket was invalid. She told
me to go to another counter, to see if they could help me, because she
couldn’t do anything to help me. As I hurried to the counter the lady
had directed, I saw Suat, with Daniel, Vanessa, Wadan, Sirak, and
Carola. Suat came with me to the counter. The man there said I couldn’t
fly with the ticket, it was impossible. My ticket was a round trip:
Dallas-Frankfurt, Frankfurt-Dallas. What happens is, when you don’t take
the first flight, the second one is automatically cancelled. I hadn’t
taken the first flight, because I was already there… He said:
- “I don’t know why so many people do that! It is not
allowed. No airline accepts that. You can’t fly with this ticket, it is
invalid and I can’t do anything with it.”
I only stared. I couldn’t believe it. I pictured Chrisi, my
host-mother, who a few days before joked with me about not losing my
flight. I couldn’t speak, I didn’t want to. I knew a one-way flight
would cost a fortune. Suat noticed and spoke up.
- “And how much does it cost one-way?”
The man couldn’t believe Suat was asking. He gave him a “are you crazy?” look and said
- “It’s really expensive”.
- “Well, how much?” – Suat repeated.
- ” Three thousand and bla bla …” - I stopped listening
I didn’t want to know how much it really was. I started crying. Not
in a dramatic loud way. I just let the tears fall to the sides of my
cheeks.
- “Is it possible to pay the difference?” Suat asked
The man looked at Suat in disbelief, like saying “you are not the
kind of person who could pay the price for this flight”. Seeing the
desperation in our faces he finally answered.
- “Yes, but it would be two thousand bla bla… It is really expensive.” – He looked at us as if we were hopeless.
My imagination was playing with me. I wouldn’t go home now. I could
see me going back to my one-year home, with my 3 suitcases. Hating
myself, hating the house for being
it, and not my home what would stand before my eyes.
I could hear the voice of the man in the background. I saw his lips
moving and I understood what he said but I didn’t want it to be true. In
his expression I could tell he believed I wasn’t flying anymore. Not
today. I could read a big sign on his forehead that said “I feel so
sorry for you guys”. I thought of my mom, waiting on the other side of
the world. I thought of calling her, saying “Mom, I don’t know how much
longer I have to stay in Germany, maybe until I can afford a ticket
back”.
I snapped away for a moment when the man asked:
- “Who’s idea was this? How did it occur to you?”
- “My parents” – I replied in a low voice, but I couldn’t
bring myself to speak anymore than what was asked. I couldn’t even ask
for a little mercy.
I was so relieved that Suat was there, otherwise I would have stood
there like an idiot in silence. My head spun. I wanted to close my eyes,
go to sleep. I wished to wake up in reality, not in this nightmare.
“What should I do now?” I thought to myself. Last week, it took forever
to get a form from the German Department of Foreign Affairs that allowed
me to stay in Germany until August 7
th (it was August 6
th).
It gave me a headache to think I had to go back and say “Emmm… I
couldn’t fly home, can I get some more days in Germany?” – Then I would
probably get a juicy fine, because my visa was already expired. It had
been for four days… that is why I needed the letter saying I still had
the chance to be there until a couple more days.
- “Is there another option?” – Suat demanded. The guy thought about it for a moment. Then he finally said:
- “I could check in last-minute flights” – He dialed a
number and couldn’t get through. Then he said they were always busy and
was hard to get a connection with them.
- “Thanks for the hope”, I thought… He finally got through the line with someone and told us:
- “You guys are lucky, there is a flight for 377 Euros. Go
to this counter at the end of the hall, give them this paper, tell them I
sent you. They will be waiting for you.”
- “Thank you, thank you so much” – I thought I said, or
maybe it was Suat who said it. Maybe I just said it in my mind. I was so
out of it.
- “Guys, run! You have to hurry!” – and the man sent us away.
There was a lady waiting for us at the counter. She looked at us as children who’ve just missed a punishment from their parents.
- “You are lucky. Are you paying in cash?” – My eyes
widened. My heart sank. I had no money. Not even an account I could
balance as soon as I got to the U.S. I had nothing. He saved me once
again, Suat suggested:
- “Can we pay with a credit card?”
- “NO…” – I almost passed out. There was no way my friends
would gather that much cash with what they had there. – “Unless it’s
from Germany” – I heard myself sigh. I stared at Suat, he said “Don’t
worry” with his eyes. Then he turned to Wadan, our friend from
Afhanistan. Wadan handed out his credit card. The lady demanded an ID,
but Wadan didn’t have one. Suat offered his.
- “I’ll pay you back” – I said.
- “If you want to catch your flight, you need to run. NOW!
You must leave your card and ID here, but I need you two guys to come
back and fill all the paperwork” – and she looked at Suat and Wadan with
a menacing look. – “Now GO!! Straight ahead! Check-in in the shortest
line you see. HURRY!!”
Vanessa, Sirak, Daniel, and Carola were taking care of my luggage. I
barely looked at them, I was passing out. I was still crying, nervous. I
wanted to die. I wanted to wake up.
My hands were trembling before the check-in machine, and it wouldn’t
read my ticket again. The same lady who had helped me with the machine
minutes before, and had sent me to the “Lufthansa Service Counter” was
there. She recognized me, and I tried to explain the story to her (she
couldn’t understand why I was trying to check-in again when I should
have done it at the service counter, about an hour ago!). She pressed
whatever special code was given in my new ticket and finally reached me
the boarding pass. I still needed to check my baggage in. I read the
last-minute baggage policy and saw that it was 10 kg less than for a
normal ticket. I started worrying even more and my headache just grew
stronger. I took out a two kilo book and gave it to Juliana. I told her
to put it with the other stuff I had left behind, that I was hoping I
would get back some day. I could only pray the luggage wouldn’t be a
problem. Thank God! The lady didn’t pay much attention to the weight of
my suitcase. I saw her make a call to someone from the airplane saying
she still had two bags for Dallas. I felt just a tiny bit relieved. She
looked at something on her computer screen and after hanging up the
phone she said:
- Oh, one more thing: there is another flight to Dallas with
a scale in Boston. It’s a couple hours later, but if you offer to take
it instead, you get 600 Euros from Lufthansa. You just have to clear it
up at The Gate. But you do need to ask about it, because you are on
stand-by, and you don’t have a seat.
Sure, I wouldn’t mind flying a bit later. I would only need to call Mom and say: “Hey, I’ll be there a couple hours later”.
But my head was still spinning. I was still crying. I had put my
sunglasses earlier because I didn’t want the others to see me cry. I
couldn’t even look at them in the eyes. I could hardly even lift my head
up, even now when it seemed as if everything would be fine, that I
would have a little more time, and that I didn’t have to run to catch my
plane. All I had to do was just take the next one, and be rewarded for
it. I would have the time to say good-bye and thank-you to my friends
properly, in peace, calmly. I would hug each one for one last time. I
would feel the one year that passed with a different story, by hugging
each special friend.
I knew something would go wrong. I knew in my heart it wasn’t going
to turn out like I wanted to. Even with the Our Fathers and Hail Marys I
kept praying in my head.
Suat was happy, he said:
- “See, they will reward you for departing later. There is a
Muslim saying “There is always a good reward for people who are good”.
You see, everything will be OK.
I still wasn’t speaking much. In my head, I said to myself “this is
not over yet, we can’t sing victory”. But I didn’t feel like saying it
out loud. Wadan carried my carry-on bag at my side.
Once at the gate, we asked about the offer. The man there didn’t
know, he said we needed to clear it up with Lufthansa “there” at the
counter, which made it sound near. I went through the gate, not taking
my bag. I was thinking “I’ll ask quick and come back and get it”. My
friends called. Oh yes, my bag. I hardly looked at them, and just
grabbed the bag from them. I still had my glasses on. They couldn’t even
see my eyes. Those eyes which minutes before had told Suat I couldn’t
take my glasses off because I hadn’t done my make-up that morning.
They stood there at the gate, waiting. And I… I left thinking I would have two more hours to say good-bye.
Once through the gate I asked the first person I saw about the offer.
She said to ask at any counter. I went through control, fearing I might
not be able to go back. But even then, I didn’t dare look to where my
friends stood. It didn’t even occur to me. My head was a mess. I
couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t
think. At the counter they
sent me to the end of the hall, the very end (where the gate to my plane
was). As it seemed, it wasn’t true about “any counter”. It had to be
“the counter”, and it was really far away. Or so it seemed. The hall
appeared to be infinite to me. As straight as it was, it was a maze
before my eyes. Colors and shapes were blurry. I didn’t want to do this,
to be there. Most of all, I didn’t want to
feel this. I felt
like play-dough. Someone was messing with me, or messing me up! I was
being shaped in so many ways; so many different shapes, maybe to see
what I could handle. And I couldn’t put resistance, just accept the
pressure coming from all sides. I felt so fragile, but I wasn’t braking.
I was whole. Yes sir, I was all there, but being deformed until I
couldn’t take it anymore; perhaps until nothing of me would me left,
nothing but an unrecognizable shape. I imagined my head being squeezed
between two big fingers. They pressed so hard, like waiting for me to
give up. My head was about to explode.
It was 10:30 a.m., and my plane was leaving at 10:40. I reached the
counter and blurted out the thing about the offer… The lady said it had
been taken already. Shit! I had to board now. The picture of my friends
popped into my mind, and flooded me with a streak of sadness. But I had
known it somehow, and for a few seconds I thought I didn’t care, as long
as I got into that airplane. I showed my ticket and my passport. As the
lady studied it, the phone at her desk rang. She answered it and said
“Yes, she’s in front of me”, and took a quick glance at me. She handed
me the phone. For a moment, I thought it might be Suat, asking if I was
alright, if I would be able to board.
A female voice was my great disappointment.
- “Where are your friends? No one came back to pay. You
can’t do that! You can’t just fly and not pay for your ticket!” – it
took me a minute to react… it was the lady with the credit card and the
ID.
- “They’re at the gate”
- “At what gate?”
I had forgotten all my German. I didn’t know how to explain it to her… which words to use…
- “The gate. They were waiting for me. I think they’re still there, waiting…”
- “Well, they need to come. Give me their numbers.”
- “I don’t have them.”
- ” They’re your friends and you don’t have their phone numbers? I don’t believe that. What kind of friends are th…”
- “I left my cell phone. I had all my numbers there. I don’t know them by heart.”
- “How convenient. It’s too weird you don’t have their numbers. Do you know at least your home phone?”
- “No…” I said. I tried to explain – “I left my cell phone ”
- (and all the numbers with it, and it went kaputt a couple days ago,
by-the-way, which was too long of a story and too coincidental…) -
“because I’m flying back home and I don’t need it anymore. I’m not
coming back.”
- “Well you’re not even going to be able to board without a
number. I trusted you, I let you go catch your plane and you are not
even paying for it…” – She sighed, and then continued -”OK. Hold on. Did
you say you lived in Frankfurt?”
- “Yes, one year…?”
- “Give me your address”
That was the one thing I knew by heart. I told her.
- “But if your friends don’t come back, I’m calling the police. I trusted you.”
- “They will be there. They’ll come back. If you can, please
call at the gate, they will see a group of about 6 young people.”
Still, the lady did not sound very happy and told me to hand the
phone to the lady at the desk. I did as told and noticed the lady on the
line still said something. The desk lady just stared at my clueless
face.
Not sure whether I would be home that day, I looked toward the empty
tunnel leading to the airplane. Everyone had boarded except for me. I
stared back, as if asking “Will everything be OK? Will you let me
board?”
The lady finally signaled me to go through. I showed my passport and
ticket. They gave me a seat. I was really going through the tunnel, and
it was exaclty 10:40 a.m. My seat was already taken, but I didn’t care. I
was in the airplane. A flight attendant guided me to another seat, one
in the middle.
I
sat. I took a breath… and cried uncontrollably. I hoped no one would
notice or stare. I didn’t want anybody to care or ask. I feared a flight
attendant would come and ask me if I was sick. But I cried in silence
and no one noticed. I cried for not saying good-bye, because I didn’t
have a last glance of my true friends, because I didn’t even talk to
them that day for being absolutely knocked out of my feet. I cried
because they waited there, hoping I would come back to say good-bye. I
had stood them up. A voice told me they would understand. Yet still, I
couldn’t forgive myself for being so stupid, and so naïve. How did I
think that once through the gate I would come back? I
knew I couldn’t… I knew I wouldn’t…
I cried for the year gone by, for all I didn’t cry before…
My return to home was something I had pictured as exciting, fun, and
unforgettable. The only thing I was right about was the unforgettable
part. The fun part I even threw away, when I discarded the joke I wanted
to play my mother, in which I would wear a blue wig when arriving to
Dallas. I would have a laugh while looking at my mother’s confused and
surprised expression.
What an excitement… I sunk in my tears for an eternal moment… until
my eyes didn’t sink into tears anymore, but into sleep. I woke up an
hour and a half before landing. My mom picked me up at the airport.
Everything was still blurry… in my head.
I felt numb. I told my mom the “adventure” and burst out crying again.
The feeling of home did not reach me, but an indescribable numbness
came instead, as if nothing had flavor… as if nothing had color. I
couldn’t stop thinking about the friends I left behind. I was grateful I
was home, don’t get me wrong. I was simply restless. The worse thing
about the whole matter is that nothing had really happened to me. I got
there. Everything was fine. Everything was normal. I caught my flight.
But something about me had changed and I knew it. This feeling took
over me, a feeling that the dream had been over. As if this year in
Germany had not passed. Yet I knew in my heart, that nothing would ever
be the same again…
