[A few hours before landing, Calum Achorn]
"What is the first thing that you'll do when you land in New York?"
"You mean, apart from kissing the ground and yelling 'Bless the Lord'?
"Yes, Ambrosia." I say with a chuckle.
"Probably look for my friend who is also going to be my new roommate and then drive to my new apartment in a yellow cab and buy a huge cup of coffee on the way. You?"
"Drive straight to my office." I almost sigh at the thought.
"Oh." The silence settles awkwardly between us.
"You like your work, Benjamin?" She asks tentatively.
"Well, yes. I knew I'd do it all along. This was the job for me. But sometimes.."
"You can tell me."
I can't.
"I know. Sometimes, it feels like I'm not doing what I'm supposed to, you know, even though I am. It feels incomplete, somehow, like something's missing. You must think I'm crazy."
"It's not easy to speak about how you're feeling sometimes, I understand."
"Y-you do?" She didn't seem like a person who could.
"Well, yeah. Sometimes your actions speak even though you don't..."
"That makes sense."
Maybe she did understand..
"..like when I'm sad and lonely, I order a lot of pizza and eat tubs of ice cream."
No, she didn't.
"That speaks...volumes." I manage.
"Exactly. So whatever it is that you're missing, it's probably waiting for you on the other side of the door. You just have to keep knocking. Or just break it, if that's easier."
I give her a smile. The genuine kind.
"You used to be so different, Benjamin. So angry, so agitated all the time. Now you're calm and cool, like you're Buddha or something." She says, avoiding my eyes.
"Isn't it the same thing?"
"What is?"
"Aren't we all passionate in anger?
Aren't we all violent in love?" I muse.
I see her eyes shine in admiration.
"Who said that?"
"Well, I did."
"No, I meant,'who wrote that?'"
"I did."
"What else can you possibly do?" She mutters under her breath.
I chuckle and lie back with my head on the seat. She follows me and we watch the roof of the plane in silence.
"It was a long flight."
"Well, yeah. It is a twenty two hour flight, you know." She turns to face me.
"It didn't feel that long, though." I mumble, still looking up.
"That too. Strange. Do you think it's the time difference?" I chuckle at that. She really was something
"I don't think our paths will ever cross again." I blurt out suddenly.
What am I doing?
"New York's a big city." She says, sighing and looking up again. I turn and look at her watching up.
I knew what we were doing, holding back until we had to let go.
"If we ever see each other again, will you know who I am?" I mumble, mostly to myself.
"It's hard to forget those eyes." She mumbles, almost to herself.
I watch her watch the ceiling, imagining what it would have been like if she knew me for who I am, and not for someone else. In that instant, I was jealous that Benjamin was the one who got to know her, and not me. I was jealous that she saw his olive green eyes when she looked into my contact lenses clad green ones. I wanted her to remember my sky blue eyes.
No, Ambrosia. If you ever see me again, you'll never know it's me.
I was almost lured into telling her the truth, but I couldn't seem to muster up the courage to speak up. Wouldn't she feel used when she realised that her long lost enemy/change of heart friend was actually a stranger?
No, I couldn't do that to her.
Especially not to her.
In the course of one flight, she had helped me realise that I was more than who everyone believed I was, more than even I believed I was. I was more than just a punctual, taciturn and rigid man my father had molded me into. I could be happy, funny and witty too.
And she, the plump girl with an abnormal appetite and an infuriating sense of humor, showed me a side of myself that I didn't know existed.
And that was extraordinary in itself.
So you have to understand why I didn't spill a word of the truth that day, and why I kept on staring at her watch the ceiling. Because Ambrosia Bellemore surely didn't look like it, but she was magic from her head down to her shoes. Especially her shoes.
"I like your shoes." I blurt out suddenly.
She was snapped from her thoughts, I could see that clearly from the way her eyebrows concentrated on grasping the meaning behind my words.
"They really are something, aren't they?" She says, and our eyes fall on her footwear.
"Enthralling."
"I got it from Amazon."
"You've been into the rain forest?"
She gives me a look that said 'where were you all this time? Under a rock?'
"It's a website where we can order things online and they arrive at our doorstep."
"Oh, you mean, grocery shopping for the lazy?"
"That's one way to put it." She shrugs.
We sit in comfortable silence once again.
"This is where you ask for my number, Benjamin." She laughs and looks out of her window. It's six a.m and our plane was supposed to land in New York around seven thirty.
"Ambrosia, can I get your number?" I blurt out without my permission, and she grins.
"That felt like a buisness deal, but that's okay."
I look at her expectantly. But instead of giving me her card like she was supposed to, she opened up her small bag, took out a marker, asked me for my arm, and scribbled the numbers on my skin.
"Don't look so horrified. It's washable." She assures me. I give her a small smile.
One hour fifteen minutes left.
~•~
Yes, I changed half of the chapter because frankly, I didn't like it and I couldn't write a word after it. So I changed it. Hope you like it this way.
So, here are some questions that I wanted to be answered to remove confusion.
*Cue the mike and the reporter*
Q- Sivani, didn't you tell us fellow readers that Calum Achorn's eyes shine like Lapiz Lazulis and from the extensive research I've found out that Lapiz Lazulis are actually blue, so if Benjamin is actually Calum, how are his eyes green?
A- Timothy Green, the extraordinary manager also provided him with contacts, my fellow readers. I haven't included that conversation in the chapter 4.2: A stormy mind, and I shall do so while I'm editing this draft.
Q- Why is the flight so long?
A- The flight from Sydney to New York actually takes 22 hours. And I know it requires changing of planes, but it's a story, and I don't want no technicalities here. So, please.
Q- How are you so funny?
A- Am I? My Ma does call me a joke. In the name of humanity.
Do ask if you want some more answered.
Vote! Ciao.