Fandomweekly Challenge 7 - The road to nowhere

[m_findlow]

Title: The road to nowhere
Fandom: Original
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 967 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Challenge 7 - Travel plans at fandomweekly
Summary: She thought she was buying herself hope.

Angie stared at the suitcase and wondered why the hell she'd ever bought it in the first place. She knew why, of course. It had been that stupid gift certificate her company had given her as a Christmas gift. They must have been trying to prove how good they were, picking the most expensive and exclusive department store in the city, showing off their wealth.

She'd wandered around the store for more than an hour, trying to figure out how to spend it. Everything in the store was posh and ridiculously overpriced, and designed for the size four supermodel that she wasn't. The gift certificate wouldn't even cover half the cost of most of the items in store, assuming she could even find something she liked.

At her wits end of how she was going to spend it, she ending up desperately wandering the top floor, a hodgepodge of electrical, manchester and other items that didn't fit into neat categories like fashion, footwear and fragrances. The suitcases had been perched on a small stand, loudly proclaiming themselves to be on sale. She stopped and looked at them, the small carry-on style luggage grabbing her attention. At least it would be a practical thing to buy, she thought, and much nicer than the cheap shabby overnight bag she already owned.

She pulled one off the stand, tugging out the handle and giving it a little test, wheeling it around, zipping and unzipping the various compartments, evaluating the size. And it was so light, like a feather. The expensive brands were always very light she knew, allowing for the maximum amount of personal luggage to be stuffed inside them and yet still meet airline requirements. Without overthinking it, she wheeled it to the counter and bought it, handing over the gift certificate, finding herself only marginally out of pocket and quite pleased at the outcome.

It was stupid thing to do, she now realised. When she'd bought it, she imagined all the travelling she was going to do, carting it proudly along behind her. Who had she been kidding? She'd never been anywhere. She was going to be thirty five in May and she'd never left the country. People she worked with were half her age and had traveled the world.

She'd researched the places she dreamt of visiting, knowing exactly how she'd get there, where she'd stay, the places she'd visit. She had it planned all the way down to the times the train would depart and arrive between cities and how far it was to walk from her hotel to the various museums and attractions. When other people began talking about their recent travels, she nodded and added her own commentary about the locations and history so it didn't sound like she'd never been anywhere. She could have almost convinced them she'd been there just yesterday. No one ever asked the question outright, for which she was eternally grateful. Admitting she'd never left home was too embarrassing.

She'd thought at the very least she might get to use the luggage for work. There were conferences all the time in other states. Maybe it wasn't a holiday, and it was only ever for a few days at most, but she could pretend she was staying in a fancy hotel, with some exotic European city just outside the sheer curtained windows. Once again she'd been disappointed. She'd been overlooked by her bosses for the fourth year in a row. People like her didn't get to attend conferences. They were for people who were good as schmoozing, not people like her who were chained to their desks, keeping the company afloat while others enjoyed the perks. They always came back saying how boring it had been, or how the plane had been delayed, or the food not as good as the last conference they'd been to, but Angie didn't care. Just going anywhere would be an absolute treat.

She'd spent so long espousing the many features of her purchase to her family, from the in-built combination lock, to the expandable compartments, double lined interior and ten-year warranty, that they must have thought she was due a promotion or some big corporate travel plans. She surely hadn't bought it for personal travel plans. Her family didn't travel. Her mum was too sick and her dad needed her too much, unable to look after himself. Elaborate thoughts of all the places in the world she wanted to see were just that, thoughts. Pictures in books, documentaries on TV and photos of places other people had been were as close as she was ever going to get.

She kept telling herself that next year was the year she was going to do it, that big overseas trip, and that once she'd done it, there be more to follow. But she couldn't leave her family. They needed her, and they wouldn't like her to travel on her own anywhere. It wasn't as if she had any friends to go with either. They'd drifted away over the years as they came to realise that her life was dedicated only to work and to caring for her parents. Her life had become one long string of family health issues and work demands in a job she no longer enjoyed. She barely left the house apart from that. Stability was key and the only reason she'd never made any wholesale changes to her life, her job included. What made her think she'd be brave enough to venture out into the wider world?

She wished now that she'd never bought the suitcase. The compact black unit sat there as a reminder of all the things she'd never have. She hated it for existing. It had, for the briefest of moments, given her a hope that simply didn't exist.