I kill the scorpion after stepping outside. Mom spots it crawling in the house, attracted by the light. She goes to get a paper towel and before coming back, I step on it. She picks it up before the dog eats it. We hug for the last time in two years.
Dad drives me to JAX. While in the car, I give myself over to mysticism, believing the radio is trying to tell me something;
"Behind blue eyes"
"Beast of burden"
"My body tells me no"
There's no traffic so we arrive a little after 4am. We hug outside American Airlines and he slips money into my pocket.
After security, while waiting for the Starbucks to open, I try to come up with a reply to Alix. The previous night she sent me a text hoping training goes well and to be safe. It's been a month since we last spoke. I'd been expecting some kind of message but never planned a response. Part of me doesn't want to reply because it will most likely be the last message I send her while the rest tries to think of some truth I haven't already told her when the Starbucks open. I send "thanks Alix and yes ma'am, I'll be safe" before getting in line.
On the plane, I begin reading the Trainee Handbook. The rules feel overwhelming but nothing I wasn't expecting.The decent comes as a relief.
