Josephine
Jet Set
1963, Skyway
"You eye-talian?"
I looked up from my magazine and slowly looked to my right. The man seated next to the window beside me was looking at me with a smile I knew all too well from men who wore it everywhere.
"No, sir, I'm French," I said, turning a page and focusing back on the article about Kennedy's assassination just barely a month earlier.
The man did not take my signal to stop talking. He leaned over, pretending to read the article with me. He spoke again. "I guess I ain't meeting my Sophia Loren on this flight. Too bad. I would have liked to spend my time in Rome with a pretty redhead."
"Hm," I responded, not looking at him.
I could sense him smiling without looking up. "Hey, anybody ever tell you that you look like Sophia Loren? Its uncanny."
I had to chuckle at this. The man's grin widened at my response.
"Someone has told you, huh? I'm not surprised," he said. He settled back in his seat, satisfied with this exchange. I finally honestly looked over at him, and was met with the image of an older gentleman with thinning white hair and fading looks. He must have been quite handsome in his day.
The loudspeaker came on before either of us could say another word. "Hello, welcome to Pan Am. We have some safety procedures to go over. If you would kindly look to the front of your cabin, we will demonstrate these procedures for you."
My eyes had gone wide from the word "hello". I whipped my head up from my magazine to the front of the cabin. What they met confirmed my fears and my face immediately became hotter than the man's libido next to me.
Up front, very familiar inky black, tightly curled hair was wrapped in a smart chingnon, and a finely muscled and trim yet voluptuous body was needlessly girdled and dressed in the famous blue and white Pam Am uniform. The devastatingly pretty woman holding the phone for the loudspeaker in her white gloved hand was speaking with neutrally lipsticked lips and wore cat tipped eyes made expertly with black eyeliner which brought out how purely green they were.
She looked so much like her father I almost had a heart attack. I do every time. My own gloved hand went over my heart anyway in the unexpectedness of seeing her here. Of all the people in the world, we had to bump into each other. But then my heart told me no. I wanted to gulp but that is unladylike. I wanted to gulp away this fear caused by my demon heart knowing that the only reason why we should meet like this was because she meant for it to happen. Our meeting like this was no coincidence at all.
I wanted to jump out of the emergency window.
"Hey, I don't know why they gotta go over these safety procedures. I just wanna fly already, you know?"
The American with the Texas drawl was talking to me again. Thank god for that. He might serve as a great distraction from her and even serve as an excuse for her not to approach me if I faked like I was interested in his attempts at conversation enough. I made a deal with myself: if this rude American talked his way through this flight and therefore caused her to stay away, maybe he would spend a day in Rome with his Sophia Loren afterall.
"Well, maybe there are people on this flight who don't know them," I said to him politely.
"Oh, I don't think so. Does it look like we got any greenhorns on this flight? Look at the luggage racks. Mostly briefcases. I bet they flew all over," he laughed, his mouth wide open and crude.
"Maybe," I smiled.
"You and your 'maybe's," he laughed.
Soon, we were in the air after a smooth take off and I had given the man my magazine to read. He had taken to talking to me about all of the articles in it in a conversational loud way, and for this I was grateful.
"You know, in Texas we didn't like that Jack Kennedy, but it sure was a shame he got shot in Texas. Everyone thinks it was a Texas boy who got 'im, but I say nay. I don't think one of our own would'a done it even if he was a yankee."
I really had no experience with Kennedy since I had been in France for the past seven years, so I admitted this. He looked at me with joking eyes.
"I'm about to give you an earful," he laughed.
"My ears welcome it, sir," I said, looking at him straight in the face and as far away from the aisle as I could to avoid that black haired woman.
"Awwuh, don't call me 'sir'. I ain't an old man yet," he joked.
"Alright," I smiled at him. I saw a small blush form on his old cheeks at my direct smile like this.
"Tea, coffee, or another beverage, Miss?" came a sultry voice which made my skin crawl. I had no choice but to look in the aisle now. At her.
I looked up at her perfectly made up face, and our eyes met. She was looking at me without the regulation Pan Am smile. My stomach fell to my toes.
But then my savior leaned over me in an very ungentlemanly way.
"Miss? Is that...Miss Black?" He had read her nametag. "I'll have a coffee, plain black. Or maybe make that with two sugars. Where am I, am I right? Wife's not here to tell me no sugars, you know?" He started to laugh and I chuckled politely with him. Miss Diana Black did not laugh with us.
"I'll have champagne," I said nervously after him.
"Of course," Diana said curtly. "I will get those to you." She walked away.
"Seems like a sourpuss, doesn't she?" the man joked.
"Yeah...seems like," I responded, stopping myself from confirming his assumption and therefore giving away that I knew her.
"Oh gawrsh, I've been so rude. My name is Kent Morgan. You can call me Kent." He extended his large hand to me and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks as I extended my own, tucking my pinky and pointer finger under my middle and ring finger to cause it to feel smaller in his. In this way, I shook it once in greeting.
"My name is Clementine," I answered discreetly. "Nice to meet you, Kent." I took my hand away as quickly as politeness allowed me to.
He paused, then smiled. My heart blipped in worry.
"You got a big hand there for a lady," he laughed. "But that's alright. We like 'em strong in Texas, big boned girls with some flesh."
I blushed and smiled with him, but inside I was screaming. I wanted to light a cigarette but the oxygen in the cabin wouldn't allow for it. My nerves were getting the best of me, with Diana just a few feet away and him having felt my large hand which no lady would possess. I suddenly felt like I was suffocating. Why did Americans have such an awful custom, anyway? Hand shaking. Ridiculous. I tried to change the subject as quickly as I could.
"So. Why are you going to Italy, Kent?" I asked.
"Oh, I was stationed there during the war. I'm meeting a buddy who stayed there after. He met his gal and settled down with 'er. Lucky guy. I already had a wife back in Texas, and my daddy wanted me to take over the business. But look at me talkin' and talkin'. Why you going to Rome? You got a fella?" He seemed quite curious.
"No, I'm unattached," I said pleasantly. He looked really relieved.
"I was gonna say he's a lucky guy," he laughed again in his relief.
"So in the war," I started, changing the subject yet again, "where exactly were you stationed in Italy-"
"Coffee with two sugars," interrupted Diana's sensuous voice. I looked up at her with dread. She handed the coffee over to Kent, and then looked at me dead in the face.
"I'm sorry, Miss, we do not have champagne on this flight. But if you would come in back with me, I can show you a selection of wines."
My body felt numb. So this is how she would get me.
But then.
"That's absurd. How do you not have champagne? I demand you look harder!" Kent barked at her. "The lady asked for champagne and that is what she shall have!"
Saved by the rude American. Diana gave him a disgusted face.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I assure you we do not carry champagne on this flight," Diana said with forced tact.
"But we just took off from Paris!" Kent complained harder. "How does a flight from Paris not have champagne for godssakes? That's from France, right?" He looked at me for confirmation. I nodded. "Right! So look again!" he finished spectacularly.
Diana looked like she wanted to kill him. "Yes, sir...right away," she said under her breath, and walked away.
My body flushed in relief. I smiled into my lap with my eyes downcast in fake shyness. "Thank you, Kent," I said sincerely.
"Don't mention it," he said proudly. "Now where were we? Oh yes, I was going to tell you about the war."
"Yes, you were," I sighed happily.
What followed was a happy hour of Kent reinacting various war battles and explaining about Mussolini, Fascism, and displaying his broken Italian with great pride as he repeated what locals had told him "verbatim". I listened with genuine interest and gasped several times as he reinacted vicious gun violence.
But then he got tired.
"I think I'll call over that stewardess for a pillow and nightcap, you know what I mean? You want anything? More champagne?" He smiled at his cleverness of remembering my beverage of choice.
I felt the nervousness coming back all over my body despite the champagne I had just drank at his suggestion of bringing Diana back to us. It would give her another opportunity to try to snatch me.
"Yes...yes I think I will have another glass," I confirmed, knowing I'd need more champagne to deal with this situation.
"Alright then," he grinned. He stood up and looked around the cabin like a meerkat out of a hole. He winked at me upon having located Diana. I blushed.
"Miss! Miss Black!" he called out. I looked out into the aisle in the direction he was calling. My eyes landed on Diana, who was looking at him with the same disgusted look. She was handing a blanket to an elderly woman at the front of the cabin. It occurred to me then that she might be beginning to harbor a deep dislike for him, and I knew what a deep dislike for anybody made demons do.
My eyes narrowed. I would protect him if I had to once we got off this plane. He was too nice to become a demon's prey. She began to come up the aisle to us. I brought my head back out of the aisle as she neared, feeling more fear with every step she took.
"Yes, what is it, sir?" she asked forcefully. If she had received any Pan Am training for this then she was betraying it in full.
If he had picked up on her rudeness this time he didn't mention it. "I would like a gin and tonic and the lady would like another champagne. And when we're done with our drinks, I would like a pillow and a blanket. I would like to take a nap."
"Yes, sir. I will bring those," she said forcefully again, then left us.
"Sourer and sourer," he laughed after her. I laughed with him in relief.
During the time she was away, Kent picked up my magazine again in order to stay awake. He began to re-read the Kennedy article. He seemed more interested in it than he had let on. He read it with regretful eyes. I felt bad for him because he seemed saddened by it even if he wouldn't say so.
About halfway through the article, Diana was back. She handed the gin and tonic to Kent. Her eyes flicked to me and a quick wave of electricty went through my body in knowing.
Suddenly, the plane lurched and my champagne flute went from her hand to my lap.
Kent exploded. "Idiot woman!" he yelled, taking the cocktail napkin he had just received with his drink and going for my wet lap. I choked down a cry of shock at this and jumped up, turning away from him and trying to blot the liquid with my gloved hands instead.
"No, no, let me!" Kent was saying, "the napkin, the napkin!"
I turned to him slightly and took the napkin from his hand as quickly as I could and began to blot with the napkin, but it was soaking too soon.
"Goodness me!" Kent yelled, and without any warning his handkerchief was wiping my lap. Feeling me. His hands stopped cautiously as he felt a secret I never wanted anyone to know.
I wanted to scream.
Diana was looking at me with embarrassment and grave apology. Without stalling, she grabbed my hand and pulled me to her.
"Let me get you cleaned up, Miss," she said quickly, and pulled me towards the lavatory. Everyone in the cabin was staring at me from the commotion she had caused. My face was fire engine red and I just wanted to fall away.
She forced me into the lavatory and came in behind me. She closed and locked the door swiftly and then stared at me with the most sorry face.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know he would...I didn't..." she began, embarrassed to her core.
I couldn't say anything. Rage filled me instead. Without thinking, I slapped her as hard as I could. She buckled and didn't straighten to look at me again. She looked to the side that my slap had directed her face, and she sighed deeply.
"I deserved that, I'm very sorry," she sighed again in shame.
"You made the plane move, didn't you. That wasn't turbulence," I spat at her.
"Yes, I did. I wanted to spill your drink on you so I could take you into the bathroom to talk. I wanted to take you to the kitchenette the first time, but your friend blocked me. I couldn't think of anything else to do. I'm so sor-"
"What is so important that you would do this?" I interrupted her angrily.
She looked even more embarrassed. She began to blush and through my anger I began to feel curious. Why would she want to speak to me so badly? Through my fear of seeing her on this plane, I hadn't paused to think about that fact. Now I really wanted to know.
Even though her father and I were involved, she had never felt the need to seek me out and speak to me in private before. It had been so many years, and I had never spoken to her like this. I was now entirely in wonder. Still very pissed at her, but curious despite.
"I just wanted...to know..." she said nervously, now looking down at the floor.
I wanted her to look at me. I took her by the chin and steadied her face to look at mine sharply. Her eyes looked panicked. At those eyes, I felt a rush of relief even though so many other feelings were swimming in me at the moment. So she was just as scared as I was of her. It felt good.
"Speak," I ordered.
She swallowed and glanced to the side then at me again.
"I just wanted to know...if you're still seeing Beau...I heard you were going to Rome so I wondered if you had broken his heart. I couldn't stand to see him hurt. Did you hurt him?" she asked, gaining fierce traction in defense of her father in the last sentence.
My expression softened as relief spread about me in finality. So that's what it was. She was just concerned for her father.
I was able to smile at this. I put my hand on her shoulder and she looked at it and then at me. Her face was one of deep concern and disbelief.
"No, we're still together, don't worry. I don't think he'd ever let me go. I'm just going to Rome because my friend asked me to pick up a picture of the Trevi Fountain. She wants her own picture because she saw Audrey Hepburn was in front of it during Roman Holiday and she's grown attached to it because of it." I began to smile more, thinking of my dear Crystal, the diehard Audrey Hepburn fan. But stormy clouds began to fill my head as I remembered how we had seen Roman Holiday together, the sad memories... Had it really been eleven years?
"Oh...oh good," Diana breathed, her own relief clear in her pretty face.
We paused, awkward now that her personal mission was over.
"Well, then. We should get you cleaned up. I really am sorry. Beau told me how you...how much it makes you sad to...he told me how cautious you are of being the most graceful lady. It was very ungraceful of me to do that to you, and I apologize. If there is anything I can do to apologize, just let me-" she began. But I interrupted again with a smile.
I touched the cheek I had slapped in apology and she winced in pain.
"Don't worry about it, sweet. I'll change my skirt when I get to my hotel," I assured. "I think I'll work on getting this dry for now."
She nodded and did a small curtsey in the old way in respect for my noble sensibilities of the olden days. Her father must have told her that, too. It made me nervous in a different way to know he had told her so much. He liked me that much?
She turned to go, and was about to open the door when I had a thought.
"Oh," I said, getting her attention. She turned to me, looking cautious. "Say, let's get together in Rome? I know this place that has just the best hats you will ever see. Let me buy one for you."
Her face turned to a kind one. It made a happy feeling bloom in my heart.
"Of course," she smiled, nodding to me. She then opened the door and left me in the lavatory alone.
I sat in there for a while, wondering the heck I was going to do when I got back to my seat. Finally, I hoped Kent would just be asleep for the rest of the way and I could make a quick getaway when the plane landed and he was coming out of his old man after sleep stupor. I left the lavatory with that familiar nervous feeling which I had felt all flight but for different reasons.
But when I got back to my seat, Kent was fully awake and looking embarrassed. His tray table was down, and on it was a full flute of champagne. My eyes widened.
He looked up at me, having heard my footsteps. He blushed and looked at the champagne flute. "I got this for you. I'm so sorry, you know? Let me make it up to you. I'll tell you whatever you want to know about the war. Hey, did I tell you about when I was in Naples?" he said quickly in his shame.
"Naples?" I asked, sitting down. He passed the champagne flute to me and I took it gratefully, feeling further relief. This whole flight had been one big rollercoaster of emotions.
"Yes, Naples. Hey, you know," he said, leaning into me and lowering his voice. I leaned into him in kind. "I'm real sorry about what happened there. I stopped touching you when I realized a gentleman ain't supposed to touch a lady like that. I didn't mean nothing by it. I got a wife at home. We're friends. I would never touch you like that."
"Oh," I breathed.
"Oh?" he asked.
I blushed. "Oh, nothing," I smiled, a feeling of total relaxation overtaking me.
He hadn't felt anything. He hadn't discovered my secret. We were still friends. I felt so free I could fly like the plane over the Italy sky.
"I was just thinking," I said, looking at him pleasantly, "that I would love it if you would give me a tour of Rome. I heard there is a famous fountain that Audrey Hepburn shot a film in front of. Will you show it to me?"
He broke into a grin. "Yes! The Trevi Fountain! You know, during the war..."
He began to talk and talk and talk again. I just sat there smiling to myself, taking it all in. Soaking in the joy of a pleasant airplane ride afterall.