22.
The airport always seemed such a daunting place to me. Some travellers rushed willingly to their destinations, others dragged their feet. Some looked utterly elated and others, like me, wished they did not have to be there.
Egan handed his passport and flight details to the check-in assistant. He loaded his luggage onto the ledge and it was weighed, approved and nudged onto the conveyer belt to make its way to the waiting plane.
His seat was confirmed and also his meal preference.
The boarding pass was printed and handed to him along with his passport.
And with every step of the process, my heart sank a further inch.
He turned around from the check-in counter, put his boarding pass into his passport and put both in his pocket. He gently put his arm around my shoulders and tugged me close into his side, kissing my cheek softly. I fought to keep the tears from flowing and just smiled back at him.
We went up the stairs to the restaurant area and found the rest of our friends waiting. Patty came to me immediately and said she needed to go to the bathroom. Her eyes pleaded with me to join her. Being the lifetime friend that she was, she could instantly see I was near breaking-point.
I stood in front of the basin, turned the water on and splashed my face a little; soon it was not clear what was water and what was tears.
‘My biggest fear is that when he gets to Ireland I’ll be forgotten. It can happen so easily!’
‘I’m sure it can, but I doubt it will. That man is honest and true and loves you.’
She passed me a few sheets of the paper towels but they were hard and scratchy and made my face look worse.
‘In a few months you’ll be together again, just keep thinking of that and of your new life with him.’
She continued to help wipe away my flowing tears.
‘Come now, let’s get back to them, you really don’t want to be spending these last two hours in the bathroom and not with him.’
I gathered my thoughts and got my emotions in check as we made our way back to the restaurant. Egan wiggled his way on the seat until he was sitting right next to me and gripped my hand tightly under the table.
Without fail, the men spoke about cars while we ate hamburgers and sipped on our drinks. I was grateful they were there, for they made me laugh, they made the tears move away from their tear ducts and the lump in my throat slither away. Egan spoke eagerly of his country and encouraged everyone to come on holiday to Ireland. Everyone was further convinced when he told stories of Irish car races and he even suggested the best time of year to visit to watch the best races. It was a grateful distraction and for once, listening to them talk about cars was enjoyable.
Throughout the two hours we spent sitting in the restaurant, Egan sat almost on top of me and when he wasn’t using his hand to talk or to eat, he was holding my hand tightly, planting kisses on it and looking deeply, lovingly, seriously into my eyes. I could see he was trying to assure me that it would all be okay, that everything would work out soon enough.
The voice over the PA system announced far too soon that the passengers of his flight were to board at Gate Six. One by one, Egan was greeted by our friends until just I was left. Everyone considerately made their way toward the airport exit while I walked with Egan to the boarding gates.
‘Just think, next time we see each other you’ll be on the other side of the gates and I’ll be on this side waiting for you.’
He put his arms around me and I knew from the thick words he spoke, he was fighting back the tears as much as I was. I preferred not to say anything; it was safer; so instead I just held him closer. Slowly he released me and kissed me a last goodbye. That went down in history as the longest, saddest and most difficult goodbye kiss - in my book anyway.
He was the last passenger and had to quickly make his way through the boarding gates to avoid missing his flight. He kept turning around to look at me, smiling, waving and blowing me kisses. I kept looking for my Irish lad dressed in jeans, a grey T-shirt, denim jacket and black sneakers. I kept looking for my heart. Other passengers were watching us, the security officers were watching us but we did not care as we tried to get that last glimpse of what our hearts longed for most. Then Egan turned and he was gone and I was suddenly very afraid.
Is this the last time I’ll see him?
I stood alone surrounded by strangers, staring at the boarding gates, wishing he would walk back through them. It felt like I stood there for hours, waiting, but he never did.
I walked back up to the restaurant area holding the warm coat I had taken off when the airport had become hot and stuffy. Finding an open seat by the window facing the runway and near to his plane, I ordered a glass of juice and waited, watching his plane fixedly hoping to get a last glimpse of him. The stairs were drawn away from the plane and it began to move backwards. I hoped that if I could focus hard enough I would see him sitting at his window. I hoped in vain. The plane disappeared down the runway. I still stared out the window until it came back into my vision, gaining speed for the take-off. It went by me and I waved a last goodbye. Then its nose lifted, pulling the rest of its body up with it into the sky. I stood with my head against the window, straining to keep focused on the plane until it was no longer possible.
Will I ever see Egan again?
I picked up my coat and my bag, paid for my juice and left the airport. My feet were heavy with the weight of my heart buried in them.
Glenna was not in the office when I walked in and I slumped into my desk. There were only two hours left of the day and Glenna had said I could have the day off, so I left again and drove to the beach by the tower clock. I sat on the wall for a while until the wind picked up and it became unpleasant. Then I drove to Josie’s.
Josie was on her way out when I arrived but rather than leave and go to my empty cottage, I lay down on the couch and waited for her to return. Before long, my eyes closed and I was visualising Egan’s face, his sparkling eyes, his Irish smile. I could hear his voice comforting me, telling me that the time would go by so quickly that when I open my eyes again I would be with him once more and forever this time.
A banging noise woke me up with such a start that I sat up straight like a puppet pulled by a string, and for a few seconds I was not sure where I was. I saw Josie walking towards me with two cups in her hand. She sat down beside me placing the cups on the table in front of us. I looked at the window with the curtains drawn.
‘What time is it?’
‘Eight-thirty, you were in such a deep sleep I didn’t want to wake you.’
Josie had a soothing voice that could calm the storms.
‘Jeepers! How did I sleep so long?’
She never answered me, it wasn’t necessary and rather than go home and face Dena, I stayed the night. Marco, in his usual happy mood helped to get the first night without Egan behind me. It was a strange and uncomfortable feeling knowing he wouldn’t be walking through the door at any minute. I missed him. I missed him so much already. Thank goodness for technology.
23.
It was hard to comprehend how I would ever have been able to put together the event for my final practical exam if I had still been working at Luxous. Glenna assisted in every way possible, allowing me to use one of her clients. She made all her resources available to me, as well as allowing me to use my working hours to put it all together. Her kindness and generosity made me feel so guilty about leaving. If only I could take this company and my job with me to Ireland.
On top of the fact that I was extremely busy, I was constantly irritated and my head was either foggy or I was nauseous. I hoped a boost of multi-vitamins and anti-allergy pills would help until after the event, then I would see a doctor and get proper medication.
The event was for a hair stylist competition – a most unusual event and one that I had never heard of or that Glenna had ever done; but which we were both very excited about. It brought its own challenges with it and we were exposed to a whole new industry – from the stylists and the hair itself, to the rules, unique procedures and the products. The competition was open to the local hair salons in the Helderberg region and each salon was permitted one entry. The funds raised would go to the local children’s shelter, and the winner would be crowned Helderberg Hairstylist of the Year and would go through to the National competition to be held later in the year.
With one week to go, there were nine entries and I was more than happy as too many would be difficult to control and too few would just simply be boring. There had to be a panel of five judges which, fortunately, with the help of the stylists, was easy to arrange. Each contestant had to create an original hairstyle using whatever products and accessories they wished and they had one hour in which to complete the styling. Then the model was dressed in a chosen outfit that set off the intended creative theme, and then modelled the completed look for a final judging.
All the sponsors, ranging from shampoo to accessory companies, flooded our office with samples and free gifts for spectators. I got Josie and Patty and even Dena, to help one Saturday to make up gift bags which would be placed on every seat. We still had so much left over that I managed to convince the lads to walk around handing freebies out to passers-by on the day.
As the day of the competition drew nearer, the media got more and more involved – interviewing the contestants, the judges and the organisers, including me. It was an absolute first for me and I was so nervous that I stuttered and fidgeted terribly. The nauseating feeling intensified and I thought at one stage that I would throw up.
I was living on about three hours of sleep a day and it suited me not having the time to wallow and be depressed about Egan. I missed him terribly even though we were constantly sending each other messages, all day and all night long. For at least an hour every night we would speak to each other via a video call, which actually made the longing so much more.
Everything I did for the competition had to be recorded and, in some instances, photographed, for my final practical exam submission. I also had to submit a portfolio of all the events I had done previously, as well as a CV and referrals. Since I had to hand it to the assessment critics at the competition, this added an extra load to my already overloaded schedule.
Stepping out of the shower, I felt refreshed but still exhausted and at least, for now, was not sneezing or nauseous. All I wanted to do was collapse on my bed but Dena walked in and put the kettle on as she yelled at me from the kitchen to let me know she was there. It was late and I didn’t have the energy to fight with her, so I put on my gown and slippers and went to the lounge. I cuddled up on the couch and threw a blanket over my legs. Dena placed our cups on the coffee table and sat in the armchair. I waited for her to speak.
‘How are the competition arrangements coming along?’
‘Good I hope. Glenna thinks I have everything covered.’
‘It’s a fascinating event. Something very unusual, it should create a lot of public interest.’
‘It has, it really has, especially since our little towns have never had anything like this before. The thing that scares me most though, is the media. At this level there are no TV cameras, thank goodness, but the press is scary enough on its own.’
‘Well done, Vanda. This is a great achievement for you and if you don’t get 110% let me know who your critics are and I will sort them out.’
She giggled and I wanted to choke on my coffee. Dena was actually making a joke and, best of all, she was in complete support of my career choice.
‘I will get their names and addresses for you in advance, just in case.’
‘Trey, he was your boss at Luxous I believe?’
I couldn’t believe she was talking to me about him. I cringed.
‘You mean monster boss. Why do you ask?’
‘Well, you might have noticed that I haven’t been seeing anyone else besides him for a while now. I actually really like him.’
‘Really?’ That was all I could say, I was too gob smacked at the thought of anyone liking him.
‘I know you think he is nothing short of evil, but he isn’t like that with me. He’s actually quite the gentleman.’
‘It cannot be the same person then. We’re not going to do the whole getting-to-know-each-other thing are we?’
‘You know I don’t do all that, so relax.’
We sat in silence for a few moments and then she spoke again, Miss Chatterbox for a change.
‘Is there anything I can help with on Saturday?’
Now why can’t she always be like this?
‘There’ll always be something to help with. Thanks Mom, that would be great.’
‘I’m really keen to see the outcome, you know, when they’re done and all dressed up, there’s quite an art to it.’
I agreed, and, for another hour, in which I could’ve had some much needed sleep, we chatted about the competition, hairstyles and themes. The evening, in particular though the last two hours, were probably the best two hours I had ever spent with Dena and it confused and delighted my already tired mind.
Before falling asleep I sent Egan my usual goodnight message and also gave him a brief description of Dena’s visit. He sent a confused emoticon back and a sweet good night message.
I wrestled with sleep. My dreams were full of hair – hair catching on fire, hair being dyed the wrong colour, models looking like freaks with nests on their heads, some with no hair at all. I dreamed of a poor turnout and that those who did attend found the whole event terribly boring. I dreamed that the judges didn’t pitch and then that the contestants didn’t pitch. I dreamed there was a power failure. Then I dreamed the electricity came back on and I tripped over a cable and disabled the power supply. Then I bumped into someone and caused a domino effect that sent contestants and models stumbling and ruining everything in sight. In another dream, the critics were not impressed with my effort and my work and I failed. In another one I left all my paperwork that had to be handed in somewhere and I rushed around in vain trying to find it.
There were no positives running through my mind, only every scenario that could go possibly wrong. I tried to sleep. I tried to think of the positives. I tried to think of Egan. I tried to envisage Ireland. I remained restless and woke up more tired than before I’d gone to bed.
24.
Glenna was by my side every step of the way, not interfering but just assisting and advising me. Having been through it all herself she knew the magnitude of the occasion.
I was the first one to arrive at the hall on a chilly winter’s morning. The rain had been kind and was not supposed to put in an appearance until the following day. I put my files down on my little desk, which was in the corner of the hall behind a side screen so as not to clash with the décor or the competition itself. With my checklist under my arm, I wandered around the hall inspecting each stand, thoroughly checking the contents against the checklist given to me by the judges. I also made sure that their score sheets were placed neatly on their table.
The entrance to the hall was adorned with an archway covered in hair accessories, and to the left on the inside of the hall was a table covered by a tablecloth printed with hair combs. On this table there were programmes and a box for charity donations, a clipboard with raffle sheets and a lockup box for the raffle and charity money. Once guests showed their tickets, their wrists were stamped with the date and the name of the competition.
Patty and Josie had kindly offered to take on this responsibility for the first shift. All the volunteers came from my group of friends and the hair salons’ staff and their families, and everyone worked in half-hour shifts so that they could all get a chance to see the competition in full swing.
While I waited for the contestants and volunteers to arrive, I walked around the hall again and made sure every seat had a gift bag on it. I was fussing like a mother hen checking up on her brood, and I grinned to myself at the thought. I stood and looked around at the hall, the décor, and the stands with all the equipment and I had a sudden pang of sadness in my heart as I wished Egan was around to see my handiwork.
He would’ve looked around, nodded his head and with his huge Irish smile have said something like, ‘Ah, fair play love, well done.’
Then a pang of panic hit me and all the horrible thoughts that had kept my sleep from accompanying me last night, came flooding back. With them in mind, I quickly checked on the cables that ran from the stands to the main switchboard to ensure they were firmly stuck on the ground and that no one could possibly trip over them, especially me.
The entrance door opened and I was so relieved to see that it was Glenna. I greeted her and gave her a rundown of everything I had already done before she even had a chance to open her mouth. She went over everything with me and once she said it was all okay I relaxed a little, just enough for the panicky feeling to subside, and only the nausea lingered.
Soon contestants and volunteers began arriving and I no longer had time to think of things that could go wrong. The judges arrived, walked around the hall and inspected each and every stand to ensure they conformed to the rules of the competition.
About half an hour before the doors were opened to the public, the two critics who would be judging me arrived. That panicky feeling crept back and nervously I showed them all the paperwork and the portfolio they needed to see, and I gave them a tour of the hall set-up, collaborating everything with my reports and spreadsheets.
I felt sick.
They neither smiled nor frowned.
What were they thinking?
Then the time arrived for the public to be allowed in and the doors were opened. I gasped as I saw the queue of people waiting to be ushered in to their seats. Liam, Nathan and David waved at me showing off the products they were handing out to passers-by. I smiled and waved back, blowing them a kiss. They seemed to be having a really good time interacting with the crowds of people.
Spectators were seated, contestants were positioned at their stands and the judges hovered amongst them, armed with their clipboards. The mayor stood on the stage with the microphone and a bell. She gave a brief speech and wished everyone well. Glenna and I held our breaths and so did every other person, including all the volunteers.
She rang the bell.
It clanged and the guests cheered while the contestants went to work instantly, their fingers like little machines attacking the models’ hair. In one hour they had to create magic. Then the models would disappear under supervision to complete the overall look and come out to model the creations. The smell of hair products soon began to consume the hall, not helping the feeling that was swimming in my stomach.
‘Maybe you should get the top windows opened to help release the fumes and smells?’
I looked at Glenna and knew she was right, of course she was right, and I dashed off to the head security officer. He was a tall man, his black uniform seeming to extend his height by at least a few inches. He had a rough face, his black hair showing signs of greying at the temples and yet he spoke with a gentle voice and his shy eyes lit up.
‘Could you open the top windows please, I think the fumes and smells might become too much before long?’
He looked up at the windows and around the room and nodded, ‘Will get right on it, Miss Vanda.’
And he disappeared in a flash as I went back to the side screen by my desk and stood once more next to Glenna.
‘Thank you, thank you very much.’
Glenna put her arm around my shoulders and rubbed my upper arm smiling. ‘You’ve done very well, now stop stressing.’
‘When I finally see a smile on the faces of those two critics then I might finally start to relax.’
‘That’s the way they are. They always do this, not giving away an inch of what they are thinking. They’ve done it like this since my days. I think they’re a special breed of people, those critics.’
I had to laugh at her.
Music filled the hall and Joe, the Master of Ceremonies, walked in between the contestants asking them questions about what they were doing but getting only very vague answers. However, not deterred he would just turn his attention to the judges or to the spectators or even to the owners of the hair salons represented.
It was so fascinating to see what incredible trickery the hairstylists used and what they could do with a simple head of hair. I had no idea or even the slightest inclination that hair could be bent, twisted, stretched and curled into such magnificent angles.
A tap on my shoulder startled me and I turned to see Dena standing next to me.
She had come! Dena had actually come to see something I was involved in!
‘This is fantastic and so interesting,’ Dena said, staring in amazement at the contestants spraying and twirling and manoeuvring the models’ hair, with fingers like tentacles.
‘Thanks so much for coming, Mom. This is Glenna, Glenna this is my mother, Dena.’
They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.
‘I must find my seat dear, so I will probably see you afterwards then.’
She called me dear again?
Glenna and I did not discuss Dena once she had left; instead I took another stroll