Fighting the aeroplane’s pull to have me sitting up straight in my chair as it lifts into the air, soaring at a steep angle, I lean forward against the force and ruffle through my backpack. It’s rare I go anywhere without my backpack and my collection of notebooks and scrap pieces of paper. Without a shadow of doubt, I know my original script will be tucked into the back of one of my folders or pads. I like to print everything I’m working on so I can edit it away from my computer screen. Picking up a pen can bring on a whole new perspective and often sends waves of inspiration through me. I’m praying in this case it will do just that.
My fingers graze over a thick stack of paper bound together with a paperclip. I pull it from my bag as the plane levels out.
‘Got it,’ I whisper, pulling down the tray table and getting myself situated. Madi is watching me with a smile tugging at her plump red lips.
‘What?’ I say softly, a smile curving up on my own.
‘She’s still in there,’ answers Madi, scrunching up the chocolate button packet. How many of those had I had? Returning my attention to my pencil case, I beam at Madi’s words. She’s right. I have dreamt of this day since I was a little girl: the chance to write scripts and have them made into real-life movies. Working for Pegasus is certainly the right place to live out my dream and I have been a part of so many wonderful projects, but this is the first time in five years that my own original script is being considered for a starring role. There’s a flutter of the old me stirring inside me, a burst of childlike glee showing through the smile that has replaced my initial fear. I can do this. I can’t screw this up.
*
I am wrapped up in my olive-green and grey wool cardigan, with thermals underneath my black leggings, long cream fluffy socks peeking over the top of my brown Ugg like boots, two layers of cotton vests and an oversized jumper, and I’m still not prepared for the frosty nip that slices through my bones the minute we leave the airport.
I’m not the only one taken off guard by the deep freeze of Breckenridge, Colorado in the middle of winter. Madi – in her long red pencil skirt with thermal tights and giant brown teddy coat – is shivering; I can practically hear her teeth chattering. Although the temperature is below freezing, I am sweating through my wool and my stomach feels like it’s full of hyperactive jumping beans, as I search the line of cars pulled up in arrivals for my parents’ faces. I can’t wait to see them.
I force my frozen eyelids to blink in an attempt to see through the icy wind, when I see my mum frantically waving her arms like she is performing the YMCA, five cars away. She’s wearing a smile that could give the Northern Lights a run for their money and it’s like the pain of the last twelve months slowly dissolves. I can’t help the tug of comfort that pulls at my heartstrings at the sight of her. I remind myself that it will not fare me well to cry if I ever want to open my eyes again, but oh how I’ve missed her.
Madi notices my mum too and is rushing over before I can pick up my suitcase. Her skirt swishes past me and I watch her embrace both my parents. My shoulders release some of the tension they have been carrying over the past few weeks as I watch the scene play out.
I’m being careful not to slip on any black ice as I navigate the snowy path to greet Mum and Dad, who I haven’t seen in two years. The minute I am at arm’s length my mother is grabbing me and kissing my cheeks.
‘My darling, look at you,’ she exclaims with her hands around my face, looking over my features, and then she is kissing me some more. My dad is hanging back. I manage to glance his way and he offers me a lazy wink and shrugs his shoulders. This is typical of my dad, never rushing my mum, standing back and admiring her while she does her thing. In my brain there is a catalogue of adoring looks that my dad has sent my mum’s way throughout my life, some when my mum was returning his gaze and others where he would simply pause for a moment just to drink her in. It’s no wonder I became a romantic screenplay writer.
My mum finally releases me and starts fussing over getting Madi in the car. Madi is smiling, her teeth still chattering away. I don’t even mind the cold and I love snow, but today it is a complete shock to the system. I’d take a little London drizzle over my lips turning blue any day.
‘Hi, Dad,’ I say, wrapping my arms around his neck and standing on my tiptoes to do so. He is far more accustomed to the Colorado weather having lived here for the past six years. He and my mum decided they wanted to get away from the fast-paced London lifestyle; they wanted somewhere more peaceful, where they could get back to their roots and enjoy the outdoors. I was never indoors as a kid. We were often out in the wilderness or enjoying the parks as a family and I loved every minute of it. Sometime during University it became less of a priority.
My dad’s greying hair is longer these days. He is sporting a five o’clock shadow and the softest red and black flannel parka I have ever felt. He instantly warms me with his hug. ‘Hi, kid, it’s good to see you,’ he says, and I can’t tell if it’s the cold that’s causing his eyes to water or he has real tears in his eyes. Whatever it is, I hug him tighter, feeling that pent-up stress in my shoulders relax once more. I don’t have time to open up and tell him I’ve missed him as Madi is pulling at my jacket and tugging me into the car.
‘Hot chocolate and a cosy fireplace are calling my name,’ she says from inside the car.
I sigh and pull away from my dad’s bear hug. ‘I love you, Dad,’ I manage and hope that in those four words he knows that I have missed him and thought about him every day in my two-year absence.
‘I love you too, kiddo. Now come on, let’s get you home.’ He kisses my forehead and makes his way around the car to the driver’s seat as I dive into the back seat next to Madi. I shiver as the warmth of the car hits me.
I hadn’t realized how much I needed my parents, how much their presence comforts me. Or more honestly, I did realize it but have been pushing my needs and wants to the wayside, worried that needing parents was not what adults did. Scott has been coping without his; I wanted to be able to handle it too. But with all the madness of the past year, the anxiety over trying to be an adult is the least of my worries. My eyelids grow heavy as an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion washes over me, mixed with the feeling of being completely content and safe in the company of those in the car. I place my head back against the headrest and stare out the window as the car begins to move.
The last time I was here, sometime late February two years ago, Scott had been with me, watching movies by the fireplace and enjoying candlelit dinners under the stars like something right out of a rom-com. It had, in fact, ended up in one of my rom-coms. The snowy setting, the cuddling to keep each other warm – it had all been perfect.
I can hear his laughter in my head, thinking back to that day when I was jumping up and down on the spot pleading for his help to unzip my snowsuit, so I could use the bathroom. I had been sledding all morning with my parents and by the time we got down the slopes and back to our cabin I was desperate. He had found it hilarious, my face a panic-stricken picture, but he said I looked cute in my frazzled state, teasing me for what had felt like forever before he kissed me softly on the lips and helped me get out of my suit. When I got back from the bathroom feeling relieved and a lot less moody, he had made us hot chocolate and got the fire going in our room.
What am I doing veering down memory lane? I scold myself as I wipe the sniffles from my nose with my woolly sleeve. That person is gone now. I’m here with Madi and my parents and I want to enjoy every minute of this Christmas to make up for the last one; the one that he left in tatters. I’ve been a mere shell of myself for twelve whole months.
Outside of the car the pine trees whizz by in a blur. The sky is a beautiful clear piercing blue and I am momentarily mesmerized by its calmness. I can’t miss this. I won’t let life simply pass me by or have Scott take up any more of my brain.
I feel Madi grab my hand and squeeze it tight. We always spend Christmas together. Even after Scott and I got married, Madi was always a fixture on Christmas Day along with the mince pies with brandy sauce and the pantomime on the telly. I haven’t had a Christmas without Madi since