I Don't Say Goodbyes

After what seemed like the shortest hour of my life, we arrived at the Salt Lake City Airport with plenty of time to spare. We drove around the loops and circles of the airport trying to get to the correct terminal. "Do you want me to come in with you, Rach? I can help you check into your flight." I sat there debating what to say. I wasn't ready to say goodbye yet, but I didn't want to burden her. "Don't you have classes to get back to, Janale?" "I'm already late anyway. It's decided; I'm walking you in." I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn't want to admit it, but I was not ready to say goodbye.

Praying we ended up in the correct location, we pulled into the nearest open spot. I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. My heart started pounding when I realized that with each step, I was getting closer to another goodbye. We grabbed my luggage from Janale's over-stuffed trunk. I hefted a bag over my shoulder and took another deep breath. This road was continually overwhelming. Each step seemed to bring about its own hurdle. We carefully jumped over the imaginary barrier and made our way towards the Southwest counter.

Weighing my bags, the attendant asked me how old Janale was. "Oh... uh, twenty? But she's not the one flying today. I am." The lady looked confused. Walking away from the attendant, we laughed at the awkward encounters we seemed to always attract. I turned so I could watch as my two bags were loaded into the machine. I watched them slowly crawl along the conveyor belt until I couldn't see them anymore. Jan gently tapped my shoulder and told me it was time to go through security. We walked arm in arm the entire way. At the entrance to the security line, I paused. It was time to split up and I would be alone for the first time since I decided to check in. I dropped my carry-on blanket and purse as Janale enveloped me. I cried again as she whispered, "I don't say goodbyes, so you'd better not say it either." I squeezed her tighter and choked up while I attempted to whisper back. "Janale, I don't care. Thank you for driving me. I love you. I'll miss you. And I'm saying it... Goodbye. See you in a month." I broke down again. Janale reached her hand out to stroke my arm. We stood there for another second and then she turned to go. All alone, I continued to stand in that one spot. I looked back just in time to see the back of Janale disappear out the door.

I turned towards security and was overwhelmed by the process. I wanted to stand there just a little longer. The tears slowly rolled down my cheeks as I bent down to gather up my belongings. Somehow, the tears just never seemed to stop-- I kept waiting to run out of tears, but they just streamed down incessantly. Salty tears seeped into my mouth and I fumbled to get into the correct line. I tried to muffle my sobs in my blanket as the line progressed towards the innumerable TSA security members. "Please have your I.D. ready when you get to the scanner." I searched my pockets for the plastic card of my 15 year old self. Through my blotchy, red eyes, I stared down at the picture. Five years had passed since I was first handed that card. My mind took control and I thought about all that had happened and changed since I was deemed a suitable driver. While my mind wandered, I somehow made it through the monotonous process of security. My body went through the motions, allowing my mind to drift off. I continued on and slowly made my way to gate 63 at the very end of the terminal. Each step drained me a little bit more. By the time I sat down in an uncomfortable, plastic seat I was exhausted. All the crying and lack of sleep made every movement an Olympic event. The only thing I wanted at this point was to finally see Allison. And then I remembered that there were still so many people to contact. Like my best friend. Or my best friend's mom.

Sitting in the loud, communal seating at gate 63, my hands shook as I dialed my best friend, Clare. For over twelve years we'd been best friends- through thick and thin- and I dreaded what she would say in response. She picked up at the last second and I quickly asked if she had a minute. "yes, I have ten as I walk to class, does tha..." Before she could finished speaking, I blurted out "sooo I'm getting ready to board to a plane. To california. I dropped out of school. And I'm checking myself into a psych ward" I'd gotten pretty good at saying that sentence all in one breath. I don't remember much of the conversation other than the fact that she was in total shock. Ten minutes passed and the conversation was still going. "Clare, you need to get to class. I just wanted you to know what was happening. I'll call you when I have more details and a better idea of what's going to happen." We hung up and I could tell she was still in shock. I took a deep breath and dialed her mom's number. Like I said, Clare and I had been best friends since we were small children, and her mother had become like a second one to me. She had talked with me through various situations and catastrophes, so I was eager to hear her voice on the other line. ...It went to voicemail. I'm sure that voicemail was about as incoherent as all the others I left throughout that week. "Hi, Tara. Sooo give me a call when you get this. I'm getting ready to board a plane in a bit. If you call while I'm on the plane, I won't pick up. But I'll call back when I can." At least, that's what I was aiming for in the message. Who knows what I actually said. I hung up the phone and sat defeated in that stiff, black chair. What was I even doing? This was a lot of work for something I wasn't even sure would help. For something I wasn't sure I wanted.

However, as I sat there, I thought of all those phone calls I had already made. I thought of all of the people who knew me and knew what I was doing, and yet they still loved me. I thought of the people who would be heartbroken if something happened to me. As I sat there and wondered what I was doing, I realized that if I couldn't do this for myself, I could do it for all of them. I never wanted to hurt anyone and this experience would only be for a moment. Eventually, I would get out and I could live my life again. But this short experience would save my loved ones lots of heartache and pain. So I knew it would be okay. No matter how long or hard my stay would be, it would be worth it. No matter how terrible I felt or how much I hurt, I knew that this was something I could do to make up for all of the stress I'd been placing on others' lives. If I gave up here, all of those phone calls would be for nothing. So for that moment that was all I could hang onto. I could hold onto the thought that this would get better. That I would be doing something not only for me but for everyone who was a part of my life.