Bond Girls Always Die

I sucked in a lungful of precious air and my stomach plummeted to the murky depths of the North Sea below. S’Okay I told myself you’re what- 30,000 feet, if the plane goes down now, your organs will most likely blow apart from the g-forces rapid deceleration. Great! I won’t feel a thing, I gritted my teeth in an attempt to make myself feel better by smiling.
“No” I gasped shaken by turbulence, nails clawing for the ­armrest and nearly taking out the unlucky bastard who had the absolute pleasure of sitting next to a freaked out little girl. Giggling inanely I tried to brush off his slightly concerned/slightly disturbed look at my erratic behavior and cursed myself under my breath for not taking something to relax.

After a little more than an hour’s flight- and two JD’s to steel my nerves- later, I stumbled from the runway at Brussels only slightly, but really quite tipsy. Later I’d grimace when a friend asked why I didn’t take the Eurostar… because I’m more inclined to impulse than bright ideas I said to myself along with a few curses that would make a sailor blush.

I started tapping my feet in the airport as I realized the hotel check in wouldn’t be for another couple of hours. And my attempt to counteract my sleepy state from the alcohol with a couple of shots of caffeine failed bitterly when I arrived in front of a Starbucks to find it very much closed.
I wouldn’t let it get me down though, although the threat of no coffee was intense. I was here, I made it, didn’t get ripped apart by a 200,000 pound flying metal deathtrap. Mission: Follow In Daddy’s Footsteps was finally underway.

I climbed up a metal stool in the Sports Bar. I decided to let my tummy settle from the flight before attempting to venture into the Black Pearls sushi place in search of a morsel or two. I flipped the lid on my laptop and touched down with Daddy, he was worried and wanted me home, safe. It was a novelty to be cared for and my heart was already halfway across the North Sea swimming back to him. But my head was pitching a tent, hammering down the metal pegs right here in Zaventem.

Zaventem, I liked the name, I felt like a bond girl on a covert mission- Babygirl, your mission if you choose to accept it, fight all the demons that took Daddy away and bring him home- make him whole. Show him just how much he deserves to be loved.

For-fuck-sake I pouted, knocking the contents of my bag over in the process of being in complete shock that a hotel as expensive as this didn’t have any biscuits. I seriously considered voicing a complaint until reason broke through. My tummy panged its disapproval and I patted it reassuringly, soon my little one, I told it. Although soon didn’t come, and I’d later live to regret not grabbing that sushi.

A burning thrill that usually accompanies hearing from Daddy was thrumming through me. That mixed with hunger of various kinds and my hyped up adrenaline from an hour making use of the hotel gym all led to a beyond oversensitized wildcat in an emotional barrel roll. Drained, tired, horny as hell and Daddy pleading for my return had me on a tailspin heading for the water. My head was a turmoil of contradictions each overlapping the other, I want to help Daddy but all he really asked for was my safe return, I was breaking a bond between us by disobeying him, my mind was also hell-bent on the way I was intending to fix things. And then to hit the nail in the coffin of all of it was my absolute bone-crushing fear of going back to London. In a way this journey had freed me from it, of my old life and pain. I never really had a home but the one place I felt more at home than anywhere was on the road. It was the metaphor of moving forward that enabled it to mirror my life. One single pathway in constant motion that had the past staying just where it should. I knew with certainty that going back would kill me like no threat I faced out here.
So why then at 23 hundred hours did I find myself booking a one way ticket back? One word- Daddy. I loved him to the moon and back, scrap that, the furthest star. With nothing else important to me in my life I had come to realize one thing, I treasured the things that were important to me and held them that much dearer. So much tighter, because I knew the importance of love over material possessions. And with Daddy I loved him so much, I’d sacrifice myself for him. And so I did, packed up and stuffed onto the Eurostar speeding me back to the poisonous tendrils of the London streets- a part of me died.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s