Paper Planes Back Home

By Tara Frejas

When Gianna wakes up on a cloud, she is disoriented yet fascinated. She thinks she's only dreaming until she gets a storm of paper planes—"They're thoughts of people who remember," a man on another cloud tells her—each pleading for her not to leave. The man tells her these planes are the key to get out of there, and while she thinks it's hard to believe, she decides everything is worth trying if it meant finding her way back home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tara Frejas
• Release date: Feb 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311408839

Tara Frejas

Tara, who often refers to herself as a wannabe novelist, started becoming enamored with fiction at the age of nine. She liked summers then, because summers meant she could write stories on the unused pages of her notebooks—some of which her mother had actually kept as mementos. She began publishing fiction for public consumption in 2004, posting her pieces on various online channels like fan forums and Blogspot, eventually exploring other avenues like Livejournal, Soomp!, Tumblr, and most recently, Wattpad. Aside from her obvious love affair with words and persistent muses, Tara is very passionate about being caffeinated, certain genres of music, dancing, dogs (though she has yet to own one again), good food, and her brand new ukelele. Most days, you’ll be able to find her working as a producer and creative director for a small advertising and events firm in Pasig City. Fun fact: She’s a Piscean. Go figure.

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Copyright

Paper Planes Back Home

Tara Frejas

Smashwords Edition

Paper Planes Back Home is a work of fiction originally published on Tumblr and Wattpad from October 2013 to April 2014. This version is a revised edition. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination, or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright © Tara Claudine S. Frejas, 2015. All rights reserved

Contact the author:

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Edited by Rica Forto

PAPER PLANES BACK HOME

Tara Frejas

Arrival

one.

It’s a cloud, she realizes, when she finally opens her eyes. But how does one even sit on a cloud? And why is it nothing like she imagined it to be?

Her hands leave her lap, and she touches the cloud she’s sitting on, smiling afterward at the warm, velvety feel of it underneath her fingers. Lost in a moment of fascination, she doesn’t notice a figure nearby, watching her.

Hello . . .

She turns her head, sees a boy with a face that she thinks is too kind and timid to belong in the military garb he’s got on. His face has a number of scratches though—like checkmarks of varying lengths lining his cheekbones. —Hey.

He looks at her with eyes that seem concerned, and she isn’t sure why. She looks past him and recognizes the fact that he’s standing on a cloud not unlike hers. The only difference is that his has somehow managed to grow a tree. There is even a tire swing hanging from the largest branch of that tree, and on its other side she spies a peculiar object—some sort of sculpture made of paper? Looks like it.

My name is Skylar, he declares, and his cloud just smoothly glides toward her. As he holds out his hand to her, his dog tag swings out of his unbuttoned uniform. She sees Levin Skylar engraved on it, and there is only one tag attached to his necklace.

Instead of taking his hand, she panics. Where am I?

I’m not sure either.

Her eyes begin to brim with tears. Am I . . . am I dead?

Skylar sighs and cranes his neck when he hears a familiar sound, a collective swishing in the air. She hears it too, and her eyes widen when she turns and sees a multitude of white paper airplanes flying overhead. Both of them are silent as they watch the paper airplanes circling them, and there’s a tinge of disappointment on Skylar’s face when each and every single one of the airplanes land on the brunette’s cloud.

What—what are these? She picks one of them up.

Thoughts.

Her brows furrow. Thoughts?

Thoughts of people who care, who remember.

She looks at him questioningly, and he nods, as if telling her to unfold the paper airplane in her hand.

On it is a handwriting she remembers.

Please. Please don’t leave me.

No family?

Nurse Kerstein tucks a lock of her brown hair behind her ear as she looks at the patient’s chart. She then shakes her head. Not that we know of. It’s kind of strange, actually. I keep thinking he must be an orphan or something . . . enlisted in the mili—

"There must at least be something we can learn from his personal effects, Nurse Jensen, one of the head nurses of the night shift, supposes. Didn’t North Memorial send them over when they transferred the patient?"

Yeah, they did.

Will you be okay taking care of that, Anna? Nurse Jensen’s tone turns concerned, and so does her eyes. It has been over a year since Nurse Kerstein’s fiancé, a soldier, passed away while serving his country, and though she has returned to her usual, cheerful disposition, the senior nurse worries that some kind of relapse might happen should she take this case. It is too close to home, after all.

As though she has already anticipated the head nurse’s thoughts, Nurse Kerstein clutches the patient’s chart— labeled Levin, Skylar A—to her chest and smiles. I’ll be fine, Monica. Thanks.

The head nurse nods. Go check on 1126 as well before you clock out later. Linda just called. She isn’t coming in tonight.

1126, got it.

The door to 1126 opens, startling a man who had dozed off on a seat pulled close to the patient’s bed. It’s almost half-past midnight, and Anna cringes at the thought of disturbing a person’s slumber. I’m sorry . . . , she whispers, closing the door quietly behind her. I’m just . . . going to . . . She points at the patient’s chart hanging by the foot of the bed.

Yeah, it’s fine. The voice comes out hoarse, exhausted.

She catches a glimpse of a weary smile before he turns to look at the patient’s face. Han, Gianna. 25. Car accident, head and spinal injury. Had been in surgery the day before. A sigh escapes her. Comatose.

Pacing to the monitors, Anna makes a quick check on the patient’s vitals and examines the IV bags to make sure they’ll still last the night. A glance at the back of the patient’s left hand, and she almost chokes at the sight of an engagement ring.

I’ll come back in the morning, she tells the man quietly, returning the patient’s board where it had previously been.

He nods, squints his eyes a bit to catch the name on her ID badge. Thanks . . . Nurse Kerstein.

two.

Skylar recognizes the grief, the denial on the newcomer’s face while he watches her unfold each paper plane and read the messages—the thoughts—sent her way.

I need to go back, she murmurs, finally breaking the silence between them. I can’t stay here.

I tell that to myself often, he says. His tone is calm, as though already resigned to his inevitable fate. And then he smiles. It’s the reassuring kind, one that makes her smile at him in return. There is always a way. He takes a small step to the side and glances behind him, jerks his thumb toward what she initially thought of as a paper sculpture, and says, Ride back home.

Her eyes narrow in curiosity. What?

I’ve seen it before, Skylar says. He drops on his cloud and sits comfortably until he’s poised to tell her a story. There was an old man here. Sam, he begins, pointing to empty space to his left. It’s only then that she takes the time to look around. Not that there’s much to see aside from the beautiful expanse of blue hues as far as her eyes can see.

Might’ve been about fifty. Said he suffered a stroke while tending his garden.

The brunette stares blankly at the space Skylar gestured to, and then she turns to him. Where is he now?

He’s gone back home.

The look on her face is quizzical.

Home, Skylar says with a smile. "What do you think of when you hear the word home?

There is a word in her head, just one. A name she doesn’t utter, but one that’s always brought about a familiar, warm feeling—like gentle morning sunlight against her skin.

Anyway. You’d be surprised what those paper planes can do, he continues. His voice is bright and encouraging, and she wonders how he could be so. She has only been sitting on her cloud for—How long have I been here, again?—a short while, and she already feels miserable. She wants to go back home. That guy, he’s had millions of paper planes fly to him every single waking hour . . . It was an amazing sight, I tell you.

How long have you been here?

He stops, the question taking away a shade of cheer from his face. He doesn’t seem to know the answer either. A while.

Why don’t you go back home?

Another shade of cheer gone, and she feels sorry she asked.

I don’t get enough paper planes, he replies with a shrug. There’s a short, uncertain pause that transpires between them—one unsure if she should ask why, and the other unwilling to reveal any more of his misery—before he finally says, And that’s that.

Without warning, a loud swishing sound is heard around them again, and a bunch of paper planes emerge out of nowhere. Skylar only watches as they all fall on the other’s cloud, and they exchange glances for a while. He sees the sorry flicker in her eyes, and he smiles. It’s okay.

She seems reluctant to unfold a plane, but when she looks back up at him, she sees a paper plane drop on his lap.

The look on his face is inexplicable.

Someone thought of you, she points out, feeling an ounce of hope for this man in front of her.

Skylar swallows a lump in his throat. Could it be—Jeannie, have you found me? He unfolds the paper plane quickly, brows knitting together when he sees a handwriting he couldn’t identify.

Be strong, soldier.

"Where are you?"

"It’s funny you should ask that, because I’m driving to see you!"

"Yeah? So you could tell me what your boyfriend—oh wait, I mean, what your fiancé has announced on Facebook?"

"—Aaron."

"You said you’d take care of this!"

"I am! I am tryi—"

"By getting engaged? Well, that’s really great, Gianna . . . Now you’ve crossed the motherfucking point of no return!"

"I didn’t know it was going to happen, okay? Could you not yell at me?"

"You didn’t—you didn’t know it was going to happen? Your parents practically wanted you to get married already during your birthday party!"

"Aaron, please calm down. I’ll fix this."

"I told you I’d help! I told you I’d just come forward and tell your parents about us, but you wouldn’t listen!"

"IT’S NOT THAT EASY!"

"Oh and now it is? Tell me what you’re going to do, G. What are you going to do? Are you going to bail on Ricky while you’re walking down the aisle?"

"Aaron, please. Calm down. We’ll talk when I get there. Just trust me, please."

"I do trust you. I do. But things aren’t working out right now, so what do you want me to do? I feel like I’m running out of time here—"

"Aaron. I love you, okay? It’s just ri—"

He wakes up in cold sweat, the sound of the crash still ringing in his ears.

"G? Gianna, what’s wrong? What happened?"

He rubs his eyes with the base of his palms and notes the stinging pain in his eyeballs. He hasn’t looked at himself in the mirror for days, but he suspects he looks like shit.

Taking a moment to get used to the sunlight seeping in through the room curtains, Aaron squints up at his best friend’s face and reaches to touch her cheek. The apparent absence of warmth scares him, but it only takes a quick glance at the heart monitor to confirm that she’s still alive.

Good morning, G, he whispers into her ear. What shall we do today, hm?

"Breakfast first before anything else. I’m going to do laundry before noon, so make sure you put all your stuff in the hamper."

A hint of a smile lines Aaron’s face when he hears her voice in his head. He takes her hand and holds it in his, stroking the lines on her palm with his thumb. She likes to do manual work; she says it’s how she got by on her own when she ventured into this concrete jungle for college. Waitressing in the afternoons, working at the laundromat during weekends—it’s how she gets discounts when she does the laundry, she says. Molly likes me, and I like her a lot too. Sometimes I still help her with the laundry even if I’m not employed there anymore.

It’s his way of soothing her, this motion, this gentle massage he does—thumb against her palm, tracing the lines, gentle at first and then with just the right amount of pressure the next. It had tickled her the first few times, especially when his skin merely ghosted above hers, but she had gotten used to it, and sometimes she’d just hold her hands out to him after a long day at work and he’d oblige.

"I want to say I’d cook today, but we both know how much I suck at that.

Reviews for Paper Planes Back Home

[kalila rayos · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

had so much fun reading this!! gianna & skylar's one hella adventure and their bond. aaron & anna's unexpected friendship. the love stories, the life lessons, love it to bits ?