"Excuse me, Ms.?" A knock reverberating through the metal door in front of me makes me flinch and I lift my head off it. "Um, are you okay in there?"
I swipe a hand across my tear-stained cheeks. After leaving the coffee shop, I'd headed straight for the adjacent bathroom where the dam of tears had finally burst once I was safely tucked into a bathroom stall.
And I'd clearly cried long enough to concern someone.
"Hello?"
"I'm fine." I sniffle, "Thank you."
I start to turn towards the toilet paper holder when they continue.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'll be fine. Just," I pause and hold in a sob, looking up at the ceiling. "Having a bad day."
What a fucking understatement.
"Um, okay, then," The voice says before I see a shadow on the floor move away from the door.
I sigh and blow my nose before using the bathroom. I'm grateful when the room is clear as I exit the stall and make my way to the sink, applying makeup remover and utilizing cleansing towelettes to clean off my face. Reapplying a little moisturizer, I forego makeup this time. Once I've put on some chapstick and gathered my hair in a high ponytail, I make my way to my gate sipping my now lukewarm coffee.
"Elora Hutchins, can you please come to the counter at gate twenty-eight?" A voice announces on the intercom. "Elora Hutchins, can you please come to the counter at gate twenty-eight."
I redirect from joining the line of travelers starting to board our plane and head for the counter.
"Hi. I'm Elora, is everything okay?" I ask as I walk up.
I instantly wonder if sobbing in a bathroom stall qualifies me as a flight risk from their point of view. Did the person from the bathroom make a complaint? Could I get kicked off a flight for crying because my personal life has imploded? I'm about to tell the attendant I'm emotionally wounded, but I'm mentally sound of mind when she finally looks up from typing at her computer.
"Hi, yes, Mrs., everything is fine." She smiles, "You got a free upgrade today."
She slides a ticket across the counter, "Can I see your other ticket please?"
I hand her my previous ticket and retrieve the one off the counter, staring at it.
"First class." I muse.
She smiles, "Yes ma'am, enjoy your flight."
I hold the ticket up a moment longer. I knew we had a lot of points so upgrades weren't uncommon when one of us traveled alone. It had just been a long time since I'd been the recipient of one of these upgrades because they rarely happened when we flew as a family.
A family.
Are we still a family?
Broken as it is. Can we continue to be a family in so many pieces? Despite the separation, we'd started to build a new routine that did still kind of feel like a family, but was different too.
Now, though, we are no longer husband and wife.
"Do you need something else?" The attendant asks.
I shake my head, "No. Thank you."
Tucking the ticket into my ticket holder, I make my way back to the line of passengers boarding. Eventually making it to the divide for Economy and First Class, I swing to the left into the first class cabin and turn down the aisle. Looking at the number on my ticket again, I walk forward to stand behind a woman organizing her things to take her seat. While waiting, I count the rows on the bins above us and my gaze shifts down as I find my row.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me." I blurt out as my eyes meet the top of a perfectly coifed head of golden chestnut locks.
The woman in front of me looks at me curtly before realizing I'm not talking to her and takes her seat as I continue to stare past her.
Maybe I should return to the gate and ask for my economy ticket back?
Adjusting his black-rimmed glasses, the man in the grey suit looks up and our eyes meet. His lips turn up at one corner as I move forward to stand beside him.
"It appears we're seatmates," I say, embarrassment heating my cheeks.
He tries to smother a growing smile.
"Is something funny?" I ask, irritated.
"Not at all." He replies, holding my gaze.
As he stands to his full height in the confined space, I realize just how tall he is. He'd tower over me even if I were in heels. No wonder he's in first class, it would be comical to see him try to sit in economy.
My eyebrows raise as I turn and move to my seat.
"Do you need to put anything in the overhead bin?" He asks.
It's then I realize just how melodic his voice is. He could be an evening radio DJ. It's deep and calming. Sensual even.
What the fuck, Elora?
"Um, yes, please," I respond leaning over my tote in my seat to grab what I need. Finally, I zip the tote closed and hand it over. He takes it from me and places it above us before we both sit in our seats.
"Can I get you two anything?" An attendant asks once we're buckled in.
"No thank you," We reply in unison.
We look at each other once more before I look away, tucking my iPad in the pocket of my seat and putting my headphones in my ears. I pretend to turn on music and shoot off a couple of texts letting everyone, including Logan, know I'm on my flight.
Then hopping on the BookSocial app, I send out a status update:
Louboutins&Lattes: Made my flight. Next stop NYC!
Sighing, I click the airplane symbol and turn off my phone before sliding it into the pocket with my iPad. Out my window, the ramp agents prepare the plane for departure as a flight attendant begins the pre-flight announcement. Hugging the plane pillow to my chest I feel the dense fog I'd struggled with all day begin to close in again and I side-eye my seatmate to find his attention firmly in an email on his phone. I turn back to the window and lean my head against the wall, watching a woman in a vest begin to motion the plane backward.
Once we are moving towards the runway, the captain makes a brief announcement warning there could be turbulence during our trip due to the same storms Tabitha and Cici are caught up in. The Midwest and southeast are taking a beating. Fortunately, the storms are so low they should mostly miss New York, with the exception of a little rain this evening. And with that closing revelation, we take off with little fuss.
As the city disappears below us I try to hold myself together, but it appears I'm my own endless rain cloud today. Squeezing the pillow tighter against my chest a sob breaks free and the tears start again. And true to my original musings, I give absolutely zero fucks what the man beside me thinks.
***
We're a few hours into the flight when my tears finally subside and I feel a peace settle over me. I think I may have finally reached the other side of the tears. At least for today. With any luck, I'm too dehydrated to produce anymore with two coffees, altitude, and no actual hydration under my belt today.
Vaguely I recall the meals being handed out and the subsequent trash being collected, so I'll have to ask for mine. Though my appetite is non-existent.
A hand appears over mine in my lap just as I'm mulling over ordering water or going straight for the free glass of champagne. In the hand is a handkerchief. I take it and wipe my face off before whispering a thank you to my seatmate when a glass of water appears next.
I look over at the man sitting beside me.
"Water," He states, holding it up a little higher. "You should probably have some."
I take the glass quietly and take a sip, the cool liquid soothing my throat on its way down. I turn to him to speak and decide against it. His tray table is out and on top of it sits a laptop with a couple of folders tucked under one side. He begins typing as I relax into my seat and finish off the glass. When I set the empty glass back down, he reaches over the center console between us and slides his toward me without even looking.
"Please, take it." He says.
"I'm fine," I say, my tone clipped.
"I know," he responds matter of fact.
I stare at the glass for a long moment before finally grabbing it.
"Thank you," I murmur.
He pauses and looks over at me, giving me a small smile. "You're welcome."
Then he turns back to his work.
It was the most odd exchange I've ever had with a complete stranger, but also a welcome one. He didn't pry. He didn't assume to know what I was going through. He almost seemed to not even care, but he was kind enough to make sure I had what I physically needed.
It felt free of expectation.
And I liked it.
Grabbing my phone, I sign onto the WiFi and check my e-mail, ChatsApp, and social media. I have a bunch of replies and likes on my BookSocial message. Including one from the author who inspired this trip, which feels nice. It feels good to be acknowledged and supported by those you support. Something I'm realizing I haven't been feeling enough of in my personal life for a long time, from the one person who should have been giving that to me the most.
That stings.
And that's all it takes for me to feel myself spiraling again. I sigh and don't bother responding to anyone. I just close my phone and toss it back in the pocket with my other items.
Shortly after, the attendants make their rounds and leave two glasses of champagne with us. At which point there's a small sigh beside me. I peek over to see my seatmate closing his laptop and tucking everything away. Mirroring him, I roll up my earbuds playing my non-existent music and put those away too, one fell out of my ear at some point during my sob fest anyway.
"I was wondering if you were going to keep those in the whole flight." He comments dryly as he pulls off his glasses and rubs his eyes.
I slide my hand out of the side pocket where I'd safely tucked everything and cock an eyebrow at him. His eyes meet mine and he smiles.
"I don't think I've ever been the recipient of someone pretending to listen to music so they didn't have to speak to me." He laughs.
I blush from being caught. Although it wasn't just him, I wasn't in a place to be speaking to anyone.
"It's okay," He says as he grabs his glass of champagne, "I don't mind."
The lack of expectation to converse is once again welcome and as he settles back into his chair, I turn to look out the window and sip my own champagne. All too soon those glasses of water are letting their presence be known though.
Unbuckling my seatbelt, I sit my mostly drunk glass of champagne down. The warmth and buzz it's provided is a welcome feeling. I stand and mutter an excuse as I scoot past my seatmate's legs and head to the restroom.
I ask the attendant for a can of water and once I'm done using the restroom I pop the top and use it to rinse my eyes and cheeks before drinking the rest. Drying off my face I take in my puffy eyes. Even with all the facial treatments, my face screams a walking train wreck today. The splotchy spots from crying are starting to fade, but they are still visible and the circles under my eyes look like faded bruises.
I do feel slightly better though. In a, "I probably can't cry anymore, so what's the point?" kind of way. Or it could just be the champagne.
Probably just the champagne.
I fix my top and cardigan and dump what little is left in the can down the drain before opening the door. Stepping into the galley where the flight attendants stand talking quietly, I hand off the empty can before turning around to walk back to my seat.
And I've only taken one step when suddenly the floor drops out from under me.
(Word Count: 2126)