Heavy Storm

Gene and Annabelle left their hotel under the cover of night. He hauled both their suitcases, and their faces were hidden by blue paper masks they'd asked for at the front desk of the hotel. Annabelle held tightly to her older brother's right hand as they walked along Seoul's sidewalks toward the airport. The city lights were beautiful.
     He kept glancing over his shoulder and looking around, wondering if someone was going to recognize them, but nobody came. He tightened his grip on Annabelle's hand as they walked to the airport. They crossed the Yeongjong Bridge in the dead of night; the ambience of the waters far below them mixed with the sounds of the cars driving past them, creating a sort of sound that was slightly comforting in its commonality.
     After crossing the bridge, they made it to the airport after another long while. They passed by several stores that were open late into the night, and Gene noticed that the commotion of the city and the places near it was constant. 
     "This place is crazy." He muttered to Annabelle as they waited to cross a street.
     "It's scary."
     Gene rubbed his thumb over Annabelle's hand.
~~~
     When they stepped onto the plane and took their seats, he let Annabelle have the window seat. He was in the center, and the aisle was occupied by an older woman with extremely curly hair. He sighed and adjusted himself to give the woman more room. 
     The journey consisted of seventeen, nearly eighteen, hours of continuous flight. He wondered how many times the pilots had made the trip. He thought about what kind of plane it was; normally, he would've known because he would've stared at the plane thoroughly through the windows of the airport, but this time he hadn't been paying attention to what kind of plane he was boarding.
     He knew why that was the case.
     His thoughts constantly bounced between concern for Annabelle and thinking about Miya. Yet, as the plane left the runway and Annabelle leaned against the shut window of the airplane, he sighed in relief as he acknowledged that, for the moment, she was safe.
     With her taken care of, he wondered about what he would write to Miya when he returned. He worried that if he wrote about everything she'd made him feel, he might come on too strong; he didn't want to force her into considering him anything more than a confidant. 
     Except he did; he sighed and looked up at the ceiling of the plane.
     He wanted to be more than her 'man of letters;' he wanted to be with her; to hold her close and rest with her; to hear her voice say things to him that weren't recorded; to say things to her that could be forgotten in their exactness, but remembered in their spirit.
     As the plane soared above the clouds and the moon bathed the plane in its light, he thought about her grace, her kindness, her vulnerability.
     Her unattainability. 
     He realized that he was just like all those crazy fans who'd tried to harass him and Annabelle; he didn't want anything bad to happen to Miya; he wanted her to be happy; he thought she'd be happy with him. He chuckled at how pathetic he was.
     He drifted in and out of sleep for several hours during the flight.
     Then awoke with a start.
     He wasn't like those crazy fans; his eyes widened. He couldn't care less about 'Miracle Miya' and how successful her albums were. Her public image and what people thought about her meant nothing to him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and remembered the woman who had signed it.
     Miya Min-Hee had signed his phone. 
     He smiled and closed his eyes; he wasn't craving some idol he knew nothing about; he wasn't filling in the blanks with imaginary traits she didn't possess; he wasn't yearning for a perfect doll that would sing and dance whenever he wound it up.
     He wanted the woman who had spoken to him with a desperate voice, asking him to wait for another letter. The woman who'd answered all of Annabelle's questions; the woman who admitted to not praying or even thinking about her soul for years; the woman who'd been abandoned by her worthless parents and raised by a loving grandpa and coldhearted grandmother. 
     He had never loved Miracle Miya; the doll that sang and danced for millions of people to see; the product sold by a huge entertainment company; the character that had been 'sent from the heavens' was never what he'd cared about.
     He loved Miya Min-Hee.
     He twirled the thought around in his mind. He said it in different little voices. He breathed deeply with every repetition of the idea. A wind began picking up in his mind the more he thought about everything he knew about her. 
     The memories, the letters, the way her hair shimmered; every memory was like a tiny gust of wind, and the more he thought about them, the more powerful the gusts became. He was enveloped in a storm of memories as he went over every detail and contemplated Miya. It was like a tornado was ravaging his mind, except instead of leaving everything in disarray, it was cleaning everything up and showing him just how much he cared about her.
     He couldn't stop smiling and bouncing in his seat. He opened his phone and began writing down everything he wanted to say. He needed to tell her that she was beautiful, of course; but her beauty was only one piece of her. Her kindness and sincerity were essential. Her care for Annabelle was absolutely critical. Her love of family and patience with Mukashi could not be forgotten. Her desire to encourage and uplift others was something he almost couldn't comprehend, but the fact that it was her earnest wish was what made it even better. 
     He only stopped writing when the flight attendant told him it was time to get off the plane. 
     "O-oh! Sorry, I just lost track of time."
     The flight attendant smiled, and Gene noticed that her face looked tired. He gently shook Annabelle awake, then turned back to the attendant as she began to move away.
     "Excuse me ma'am."
     "Yes sir?" She asked, her voice slightly weary. 
     Annabelle stood next to Gene, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Gene looked down at his sister, thought about Miya, and smiled at the attendant earnestly.
     "I just wanted to say that God loves you."
     The flight attendant blinked in surprise, and for a moment looked far away, then returned the smile to Gene. 
     "Well, thank you. Have a nice day sir."
     He nodded at her, then began taking his luggage out of the overhead compartment. Annabelle took her own luggage quickly, and as they walked out of the plane and into the George Bush International Airport, she spoke up.
     "Why'd you do that?" 
     "Do what?" He replied with a cheeky grin.
     Annabelle raised an eyebrow at her brother as they walked into the terminal area.
     "Well, I've been thinking about what's happened recently, and I figured none of it would've happened if you hadn't been so insistent about telling Miya about Jesus and God, so maybe more people need to hear about it." He shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe that flight attendant was like Miya when we first started writing to her."
     Annabelle kept walking with her brother in silence. By the time they made it to the curb outside the airport and were waiting for someone to pick them up and take them back to the small airfield on the edge of Houston, a half hour had passed with neither sibling speaking.
     "Who are you?" Annabelle asked, making eye contact with her brother. "Gene doesn't talk like that. He also doesn't take me on trips like this." Her blue eyes narrowed as they were framed by her wavy black hair.
     Gene patted his sister on the head.
     "Aren't you the one who likes to say that people can change?" 
     Annabelle nodded. 
     "Then I guess I've changed." He stated.
     His sister looked up at him, then back out at the parking lot of the airport. 
     "Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I didn't exist." Annabelle said. 
     Gene looked down at his sister, concerned.
     "Would life work exactly the same if I wasn't around?" She whispered. "After all, what if I had a different personality? If I was anything other than me, would it make a difference?" 
     Annabelle wasn't crying. She looked up at the sky. It was early evening.
    "But now, I'm realizing that the 'what ifs' don't matter." She sounded breathless. "Because God didn't act on the 'what ifs;' he put me exactly where he wanted me to be for a reason. Even if I don't know why he chose me, he did."
     She looked up at her brother.
     "And he chose you, too." 
     Gene thought about Miya.
     He smiled.