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Toki’s heart hadn’t stopped racing since he stepped on the airplane the night before in Oslo. Fake passport clenched in his hand even as he sat on the plane, staring out the window unblinking into clouds that had materialized out of the night during which he flew away from Norway once and for all, nothing to call his own besides his guitar and his name.
The thudding between his ears was incessant, a pounding that kept him from sleep that he didn’t want to submit to. No, he wanted only one thing: To watch the sunrise from behind the scratched plastic window of the plane that was taking him away.
It had been appropriately dark when he left Norway, the night hanging heavy and chilled as he drummed up every ounce of bravery within him, his brother Runke’s voice whispering in his ear: “It’s going to be okay. The fake passport is good, they’re going to accept it without any problems. Just smile and pretend as much as you have to until you’re in America and everything is going to be fine.”
Those last reassurances had almost fallen upon deaf ears as Toki wanted to shout, “I don’t want to pretend it’s fine! I want it to actually be fine!” But Runke, Toki’s rock for the past five years since he had swept him up off the street and taken him in as his own brother, without question and without condition, was as stable as the Earth itself and put his hand on Toki’s shoulder, telling him to breathe.
“You’ve dealt with much worse than this, Toki. We both know that.” He pulled him into a rare embrace. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. Now take a deep breath and do what you have to do.”
Held in his arms, the fear was squeezed out of Toki in that moment and he returned the embrace, holding back tears. There would be time to cry later if he needed to, but now wasn’t the moment, not when a plane was waiting for him.
Runke pressed a rolled handful of money into Toki’s hand and moved Toki’s fingers to close around it. “Runke, are you sure-“
Runke nodded. “Of course I am. Now go, before I change my mind and ask you to stay.”
Toki nodded and turned before he himself could change his mind. Behind him as he walked away, he heard Runke call, “Don’t worry about making me proud, you’ve always done that. Make yourself proud.”
Toki’s heart had thudded so hard that he was afraid the attendants would notice as they checked his ticket and his papers; every cell in his body was poised for the rejection he was expecting. Thoughts of being brought to prison for forged papers whirled through his head but somehow those were less frightening than the thought of staying in Norway, in Lillehammer, too close to the earthen crypt where he had been forced to spend so many hours of his childhood.
He shifted his guitar from one arm to the other - the friction of the bag against his back made the scars on his back feel tight and itchy. The attendant raised and eyebrow and Toki forced a smile, an expression he had been practicing at Runke’s behest for weeks. The practice paid off and the attendant returned the smile, hesitant but genuine.
The time ticked by at light speed as Toki waited for his turn to board the plane, the first plane he had ever been on. Surrounded by people, he wondered if anyone else was like him.
Was anyone else here running away too?
Behind placid expressions and eyes circled with the pallor of exhaustion, he wondered if any of them had seen the inside of a punishment hole. Was such a thing normal? Several people’s eyes were glazed with tears, some were crinkled in laughter. None of their faces gave anything away and Toki smiled softly. Everyone was filled with their own secrets.
It felt appropriate to him that he was flying to the east, into the rising sun. Into the morning.
It had taken years of time with Runke helping him to unlearn the fear and rage that his parents had programmed into him, extracting it like a tumor and replacing it with love. Without that, Toki would have never been able to look out of the window of a plane over a sea of clouds, blue and orange and pink and yellow as the sun lit up their corners like lace, like wool, painted with the wide strokes of an artist whose paint could never run out.
Toki had never seen anything like it and he clung to his guitar, overwhelmed by it. By everything.
His body tried to pull him down to sleep; there was little to stimulate his mind as he traversed the massive body of water, an ocean he never thought he would see in such a way, let alone cross alone. But he refused the pull. He wanted to keep his eyes open for every single moment.
Hours and hours passed but it may as well have been moments for Toki until finally the plane, beneath a brilliantly blue sky, landed with a skid. Toki’s stomach leapt into his throat.
It was finally time.
He stood and readied himself to leave the plane. An old woman with a kind face paused to let him exit his row and asked him, “Do you need to get your bag down?”
Toki’s grasp on English was tenuous at best and he wondered where she was from, why she was leaving Oslo. Had she been there to visit? Was she from there but had an American accent? What was her story? Would she have been willing to listen to his?
Toki shook his head and stammered, “Ah. No. Nothings to be mine, not heres.”
“I see.” She nodded. “Go on, then.”
The airport was bustling and Toki had to dodge people, all in a hurry, tall and loud Americans the likes of which he had never seen. Try as he might, he couldn’t suppress a grin.
Runke, I wish you could see me! He thought as he effortlessly wove through the crowd. The Toki of four years ago would have crumpled to his knees and given up when faced with this, but this Toki, the Toki that was chasing the sunrise, this Toki could handle it.
Toki stepped out of the airport into the humidity and heat of a sweltering summer day and despite the traffic, despite the people pushing past him, could not wrench himself from the spot the moment he stepped into the sun and gazed up, the golden rays pounding on his face.
A cloudless day welcomed him to America, to the place he had always wanted to go. Guitar on his back, he was ready to find his destiny wherever it might be. Drinking in the sunlight like a sunflower that turned toward the brightness as it traveled across the sky, Toki took a deep breath, eyes closed. For the first time, his heart calmed and peace washed over him, head to toes.
Electricity tingled in his fingertips as he opened his eyes and stepped forward, ready for whatever was ahead.