Into the Open Air

The wedding had been 18 months in planning, and Harry's family had spent over $12,000 on it, so I owed them at least a postcard.

I pulled from my backpack purse the tiny money roll and peeled off a five, paid for the postcard and a stamp. What should I say though? That stymied me. Finally, I scrawled, “Sorry, love Lily.” I addressed it and headed across the airport to a mailbox. At the last minute, I pulled out my pen again and added, "It was a dare."

It's not like they could possibly think less of me.

The departure board showed I had 20 minutes to go. What do people speak in Iceland? I headed back to the gift shop and picked up earbuds so I could practice phrases on my phone. I grabbed a hoodie too... I wasn't sure what the weather would be like in May, but it did have "ice" in the name.

At the counter, I grabbed a toiletry kit, a chocolate bar and a large water.

I would have to start being careful with my money. Airport prices were ridiculous.

The pawnshop guy had been greasy as hell. I thought the ring was worth a solid $1000 but I had had to toss in my dress, the breadmaker Aunt Lou had given me, my old tennis bracelet and my suitcases to get $1100 out of the guy. I was pretty sure I wouldn't have gotten that much if I had been wearing a bra.

The plane was boarding. I checked my watch. I should be leaving the hotel suite for the venue by now. People were likely starting to freak out. As I headed down the chute to the plane, my heart felt like a giant bubble swelling into my throat. I thought I might burst, or at least burst into song.

I glanced at my phone. My notifications screen was full. Mostly Harry and his two sisters. One from my mother. One from Jenny.

“Are you really doing it?” With a shocked emoji and a winky emoji.

I pictured her grin.

I clicked off my phone and showed the guy my passport and boarding pass, grabbed my purse and headed to my seat.

A giant hairy man had the window, which suited me fine. I will take bathroom access over watching the ground drop any day, thank you. The Yeti's name was Georges.

Georges asked if I had been to Iceland before? I said no, it was my first time. I asked if he had been before. He had family there, he said. His dad's cousins. The Yeti was my new best friend. I ordered us drinks.

I needed information. Could English speakers get work there? Were working visas hard to get? I was full of questions. What Georges Yeti did not know, he was sure his cousins would. He immediately invited me to stay with them. Perfect! This would help stretch my resources considerably.

Finally, Georges managed to ask me a question, just as the land gave way to ocean far beneath us. Why was I travelling? Was I a knitter?

This turn in conversation thoroughly confused me, until he caught me up. Iceland was apparently known for knitting. I took note of this. I could knit. This could be useful.

As I stirred my second rye and ginger, Georges politely complimented my fancy nails, which seemed an out of character thing for a Yeti to pick up on, but hey, this was my first Yeti friend. Perhaps the contrast with my comfortable-for-flying yoga pants made him take notice.

I held them out and let them sparkle under the weird little airplane light. "I got them done for my wedding."

Georges' hairy eyebrows about disappeared into his shaggy bangs, and he hastened to say "Congratulations!" Then he started trying to lumber past me, to swap seats with the husband he imagined was sulking in a nearby seat.

"Cool your jets, my friend," I calmed him. "The wedding is not happening." I paused to check my watch--"Three minutes ago, I was supposed to start walking down the aisle.”

"You are a runaway bride!" Georges sounded impressed.

I thought about this. "I ... I guess so?"

"Was he just not the right man? Did you love another man?" I wondered if Georges was a big Julia Roberts fan.

"Not really...definitely no other men. I mean, if I was going to marry someone, I would probably marry Harry. He's a great guy. Everyone respects and likes him. He works in finance for the government. Very stable. Great guy."

"This is like you just wrote a dating profile for him." My fuzzy Yeti friend was very astute. "I hear no passion in you for this Harry."

I considered this. "You're right!" Georges had nailed it.

"So.... why are you here? Flying? It seems it is not because you have had a lifelong passion to go to Iceland.”

I was beginning to think that this Yeti knew me better than almost anyone else.

I thought about it. About four years of a degree, studying history, most of it spent in the local archives. About four summers of working at the fish and chips restaurant at home, seeing the same people, collecting tips to make enough for another semester.

About Harry, the first man I met on campus. About dating, holding hands, respectful kissing, warm, safe cuddling. About a one-knee proposal at a nice restaurant. About his plans for a house, a car, a baby.

And then I thought about Jenny, my best friend. Reckless, roaming Jenny, the shot of tequila in the orange juice, the taste of chaos that made the universe expand. Wild girl. Met her first year too. In between safe Harry dates there were adventures, rambles through downtown clubs, a midnight train journey to the other end of the province to try a breakfast place, a hedonistic spring break in Florida living on peanut butter and vodka. We dared each other to do the ridiculous, and neither of us ever backed down.

Jenny had gone abroad for her final year and had returned in time for the wedding. She "kidnapped" me the afternoon before the rehearsal, which is to say she lured me with beer to a seedy pub Harry probably had never heard of.

"Are you really going to marry this guy?" she demanded. Her eyes bored into me.

“I … think so?”

"You can’t. Lily, you will stagnate. You need to do something that scares you."

"Like what?" I had replied. "Hop on the next plane to anywhere?"

It felt like a ridiculous, random thing when it formed in my head, but when I said it, it sounded like I had been planning.

"Yessss! With nothing but the money in your pocket.” She paused, pulled my hand towards her.

“…I know a pawn shop.”

Her eyes glittered and she leaned in... "I dare you."

On the plane, I toasted Georges with my empty plastic glass. “I’m here because Iceland was the next plane leaving.”

The plane continued to fly forward, a free gull in the open air.