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Zoe Gordon

Professor Iversen

Creative Writing & Research

November 26, 2019

The Pilot

Phoebe sat leaning against her backpack, trying to keep her eyes open as she waited for her sister

to come back with metro tickets. A cold wind blew through the Porto airport as the sliding doors

at the end of the large terminal opened for each person exiting. Goosebumps rose on her bare

forearms and she pulled the rolled-up sleeves of her sweatshirt back down, twisting the worn

material between her fingers and balling her hands into fists. The fabric was stretched and

stained from being worn for the last thirty-six hours straight. She and Nora had left for this big

what seemed like forever ago, and she was still wearing the same leggings and sweatshirt she’d

pulled on, half-asleep, in her bedroom at home, a world away. She had expected to sleep on the

eight-hour flight from DC to their layover in Brussels, but the screaming baby two rows back

hadn’t wanted anyone on that plane to sleep.

Phoebe’s eyes snapped open as she heard her older sisters voice, so much louder than her

own, “Obrigada!” Phoebe sighed and watched Nora approach, “that means thank you,” said

Nora, the familiar sting of condescension lacing every word. Nora had learned a few phrases in

Portuguese in the weeks leading up to the trip and lectured her sister endlessly on the plane for

not bothering to do the same. “It’s just rude,” Nora had said, “you go to another country and just

expect everyone to speak English?” But just as Phoebe had hoped, there were signs in English all

over the airport.

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“You have the tickets?” she asked as Nora slid onto the bench next to her, jostling

Phoebe’s backpack with an exaggerated sigh. Always the drama queen.

“Of course I got them,” Nora said, holding out two stubs of paper with Portuguese

writing and a paper map. “We need to take the blue line into Porto and get off at the third stop,”

(“Free Walking Tour of Porto”) her pale eyebrows rose on her forehead, making her large blue

eyes look even bigger, as her thin lips shaped each word with confidence, “and then the Hostel is

just four blocks from there.” Nora looked up from the paper map grinning. How did she have so

much energy? Phoebe didn’t think she ever contained enough energy to smile that wide, even

well rested.

“Can you even read that thing?” Phoebe gestured at the map laying unfolded across

Nora’s lap, “why don’t we download a map on our phones while we can still use the airport Wi-

Fi?”

“Yes, I can read it,” Nora’s lips scrunched into a pout, “go ahead and download a map if

you want to but I don’t need it.” She stood up, still looking offended and heaved her backpack

onto her shoulders, wincing as the weight of all of her belongings settled. “Let’s go. I need a

shower.” Phoebe pulled on her own backpack that seemed to have grown somehow heavier on

the flight over and followed her sister out of the dim airport through an automatic door marked

Metro in block lettering.

* * *

It was beginning to get dark by the time they arrived at their stop and Phoebe had noticed that

Nora’s eye lids seemed to be drooping too now. When the metro came to an abrupt stop, her

sister’s head shot up. She must have dozed off for a moment. Phoebe knew her sister must be as
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exhausted as she was, but she had to give her credit, she hid it well. She looked at her sister and

wondered how two people that shared DNA could have turned out so differently.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but it felt like walking in a dream as they walked through

the crowded station. Before this trip, Phoebe had never been out of the country. Nora had

traveled as much as she could, but Phoebe had always stayed.

Nora had always been adventurous. She’d been itching to leave their small town for as

long as Phoebe could remember. Nora had gone to the farthest university their family could

afford, and even that hadn’t been far enough. She’d studied abroad twice, once in London and

once in Uruguay, and backpacked through South America when her semester there was over.

When she’d finally graduated and been forced to move home two years ago to save money,

Phoebe had expected her to run away on some new adventure the first chance she got. But then,

last December, Phoebe had left school and moved home.

She’d explained to the admissions office that she just needed some time before changing

her major again and would be back the following semester. Only her family knew the real

reason. Phoebe couldn’t handle school. Honestly, there were days when she felt like she couldn’t

handle life, the thought of getting out of bed and interacting with people was enough to make her

lost it completely. More often than not she’d found herself falling into a puddle, she’d become

dirty tears and failure. Her entire identity had become anxiety.

She’d and expected to feel nothing but judgement from her older sister, but Nora had

insisted that they needed a sister adventure and promptly convince their mother to help Phoebe

buy a plane ticket to Europe.

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As they stepped out of the station and into the city, Phoebe saw her own look of wonder

mirrored on her sister’s face. They were in a narrow cobblestone street, surrounded by tall,

ancient looking buildings.

“You know, most of these buildings date back to the twelfth century,” said Nora, looking

at the oldest looking building in aww.

“Of course you would know that,” said Phoebe.

The two sisters walked through the old city, Nora in front, and Phoebe a few paces

behind. Trying not to trip on the uneven stones. The walk seemed as though it were taking

forever, but Phoebe found that she wasn’t quite as tired as she’d thought. They passed small

supermarkets, bars, and many little shops filled with small trinkets made from cork. Nora

stopped every so often to admire something, and Phoebe urged her on, terrified of being lost in

the dark.

They finally arrived in front of a newer looking building, with opaque glass, and a door

labeled, “The Pilot Hostel.”

“Home sweet home,” said Nora, pressing the doorbell, “at least for the next two nights.”

The door buzzed open and the two sisters stepped inside.

The interior of the hostel was different than Phoebe had expected. Everything was

modern, with all dark wood and metal. A girl with braces and curly hair sat at the front desk. She

looked young.

“Olá, my name is Martina,” said the girl with a thick accent that Phoebe couldn’t place,

“Welcome to the Pilot Hostel.”

Nora stepped forward and introduced herself and her sister, asking what felt like a million

questions and cracking jokes with Martina, who laughed delighted. Phoebe zoned her sisters
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rambling voice out and looked around. As she turned to see the staircase behind them, she saw

two boys walking down and toward the front door. One of them was tall, unbelievably tall, and

didn’t seem to notice the girls. His companion however, met Phoebe’s gaze and held it. He

grinned broadly and turned his head to keep eye contact with her as he and the tall boy walked

out of the door. Phoebe could feel her face heating and noticed Martina watching the receding

backs of the boys.

“Here are your key cards, you’ll need them to get into the hostel and into your room.”

Martina handed over two white cards, with the words The Pilot written on the front in black

marker. She gestured toward the stairs, “Your room in on the top floor, it’s the only room on the

floor.” She looked the girls up and down, “and if you’d like a shower, the bathroom is on the

second floor, first door on the left.” Phoebe gave her what she hoped was a grateful smile.

“And the bar?” asked Nora.

“The bar is twenty-four hours, and everyone gets a free shot at ten o’clock, every night.” She

smiled, “it’s fun. Go put your things away, clean up, and come back down to meet people.”

“Oh we will, don’t worry,” Nora said as she picked up her bags and headed toward the

stairs. Phoebe really had no idea where she got her energy from, it was honestly ridiculous, but

she grabbed her bag and followed her sister.

* * *

After the hot shower, Phoebe sat on the bottom of the small bunk bed that had been assigned to

her and Nora, waiting for her sister to finish her shower. They had chosen the biggest dorm, with

twelve people, because it was cheapest. The slanted ceiling made it so that you could only stand

up in the center of the room, next to the bunk beds, and the only window in the room was a
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skylight, on the opposite side of the room. There was no air flow. The air was stagnant, and the

room reeked of a combination of body odor and a smell that Phoebe couldn’t quite place.

Phoebe got dressed in the dark and waited for her sister to come find her. Before getting

in the shower, Nora had insisted, “we can’t go to bed until we meet at least one person,” ignoring

her little sisters protests that she was tired and needed sleep.

She heard Nora’s footsteps on the stairs, “you better be dressed and ready to drink when I

open this door,” followed by Nora’s loud laugh. Phoebe rolled her eyes as her sister’s small

figure entered the room, wrapped in the thin travel towel she’d packed. The towel barely covered

her torso, but Nora confidently moved through the room, past the forms of the napping boys in

bunks on the opposite end of the room. Phoebe watched in horror as her sister dropped her towel

onto her bed and began pulling clothes out of her pack.

“What? There’s no such thing as privacy here, get used to is,” said Nora as she wiggled

her dirty jeans back over her hips and pulled a clean t-shirt over her head.

“You’re insane,” Phoebe thought about how she had been so careful to bring her clean

clothes into the bathroom with her. Had she been wrong to do so? Did everyone just get

completely naked, with no shame? She looked around the cooed dorm and then at her sister, now

fully clothed and running her travel brush through her wet, tangled hair. No one had seemed to

notice or care.

“Oh please, you’ll get over it,” Nora put her brush down and stood up. “Prude.”

“Shhh, Nora, people are sleeping.” Phoebe could feel her face heating and was sure that

she probably resembled a tomato. Her pale skin and light features didn’t do her any favors when

it came to hiding humiliation.

* * *
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“Just one person,” whispered Nora, “just make friends with one person and then you can go to

bed.” Phoebe could feel her entire body rejecting the crowded common room. People lounged

around on red couches and chairs that looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in years. She cringed

at the thought of where some of those stains might have come from. Her legs shook and she

couldn’t make eye contact with any of the people hanging around the bar, waiting for the free

shot. She finished her beer faster than expected, and nervously looked at her sister.

“Will you order another beer for me?” Phoebe asked, pleading with her eyes.

“Nope,” Nora casually sipped her beer. “You’re a big girl. You can order your own

beer.” Phoebe’s anger flared. Despite being only a year and a half older, Nora had always been

infuriatingly superior. She’d always acted like Phoebe couldn’t do anything for herself, but now

she wanted to make her do everything herself. Great.

“Do you need another beer?” asked the bartender, taking pity on her.

“Yes please,” said Phoebe, her voice almost inaudible.

“I’ll get that,” said a bright male voice. She turned and saw the boy from earlier, tall

friend in tow. He was standing next to her, grinning. She felt Nora turn toward them, eyeing the

tall friend.

“Hi, I’m Nora,” she leaned forward, across Phoebe, and shook the tall boy’s hand,

holding eye contact for way too long, “and this is Phoebe.”

“I’m Stephen, and this is Michael,” said the shorter boy, still looking at Phoebe. “You’re

from The States?”

“Yep, and you’re, what English?” asked Nora taking a big gulp of her beer.

Stephen winced, “Welsh actually.” The two boys took a seat next to the girls.

* * *
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“It’s ten, time for the free shot,” said the bartender, lining shot glasses up on the bar. Everyone in

the bar gathered around and Phoebe found herself smashed between Stephen and a tall skinny

girl that had squeezed between her and Nora.

“Hi my name is Annika,” said the tall girl with a thick German accent.

“Phoebe,” she said, holding out her hand to the girl. The girl laughed and grabbed her

hand.

“We are all going to go drinking after this. Come with us!” said the girl.

“Who is we?” asked Phoebe.

“Everyone,” said Stephen. “We’ve all just arrived, so we’re going to celebrate.” Phoebe

looked around and saw what they said was true. There were twenty or so young people, crowded

around the bar, chatting and talking as if they had been friends forever. How did these people

feel so comfortable with strangers? She had no idea but thought she might need to find out. She

looked over at her sister who was talking animatedly with Michael, so comfortable in her own

skin.

“Okay, I’ll come,” said Phoebe, feeling a smile stretch across her face for the first time in

what felt like years.

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