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Part 1
Flight of Fancy
Chapter 1
Arianna Song was the perfect daughter, the perfect employee.
She had trained for both roles, although her mother had no idea that her oldest child was so dedicated to a certain life. And, in perfect truth, Arianna had a motive for such excellence since the age of nine, when she took her first international flight between Kuala Lumpur and Hong Kong.
That was the day she saw the most beautiful woman of her life. A flight attendant who not only planted the seed for Arianna’s future career but haunted her through puberty whenever she wondered why the boys couldn’t be half as attractive as a Singapura Girl.
Everything Arianna did upon entering secondary school revolved around one goal: become one of them. When she was first allowed to play with makeup, she taped open magazines to pages advertising Singapura Airlines and copied their style until she could replicate it in ten minutes. When she caught head lice from a classmate she convinced her mother to cut her hair no shorter than the kind of bob young flight attendants wore when starting their careers. When it grew out again, she began knotting it into a sleek and high bun that was both functional and made some of the boys in her class say, “You look like one of those Singapura Girls on TV.” The highest of honors, and not unseen by her teachers.
She forewent university but applied herself to the study of language and decorum. It wasn’t good enough to be articulate in her native Malay language and fluent in Mandarin, where her scores outshone most of her classmates. Arianna knew that if she wanted to get anywhere in her life plan, she had to learn a third language. Preferably English.
Actually, it had to be English. It didn’t come to her as easily as Mandarin, but when she focused on formal English with a lack of contractions and idioms, she discovered that she didn’t just shine – she was more than qualified for her dream position as a Singapura Girl.
Nobody was surprised when she aced the interviews on the first try. Least of all her future instructors, who agreed she had fooled them into believing she was a plant from the corporation to test their skills.
She was the perfect daughter until she wasn’t.
“Top of her class,” her mother sighed with another click of the tongue as she swiped through her tablet. “Promoted to the highest rank and moving to Singapore to be the Lead Attendant from Singapore to Beijing.” Another click; another spray of spittle. “Her own flat in Singapore, one of the most expensive cities in the world.” Pearl raised one arm above her head as she tore her eyes off her tablet screen and gazed at her daughter, more critical than a Singapura Airlines trainee instructor. “But does she have a boyfriend? Is she engaged? No!”
This was the only real criticism Pearl could lob at her oldest child, and she never hesitated, since Arianna’s only sibling was louder, rasher, and openly opinionated in a way that invited other kinds of criticisms. Criticism is the highest form of love. Arianna was so impervious to people’s perceived problems with her that she rarely took personal offense. They desired for her to improve, to elevate her station in society. Why would she take offense?
Except this was the one sore spot Arianna harbored whenever she reflected on her successful life.
“You are surrounded by pilots,” Pearl scoffed. “What about those older flight attendants? The male ones? Aiya, let me introduce you to my friend’s nephew. He’s a successful accountant out of Jakarta. Only a few years older than you. Very handsome.”
Arianna was a master at deflecting away from her personal dating life, which she kept as secret as the natural urges that had plagued her from the moment she had her first period. “I’m so busy making a life for myself. I’ll start looking for a husband when I’m thirty.”
That placated her mother for a few years, but when Arianna aged twenty-five without a boyfriend, it didn’t matter anymore. Even when she achieved one of the highest ranks for a Singapura flight attendant and secured a one-bedroom flat with a view of Changi Airport, all Pearl cared about was marrying off her daughter to a man of good standing. According to her and many of the aunties constantly pecking at Arianna’s few faults, this was their duty as older women and the mothers of the next generation.
Again, Arianna did not take offense, but it became more difficult to come up with excuses for why she never had a boyfriend. Because a woman of her grace and standing had plenty of offers. At work alone, more than a few men in the head offices and training grounds offered to take her out for a drink and asked after her family. Her closer confidants – who still didn’t know the real her – in the airplane galleys and layover hotels were always eager to introduce her to their brothers, cousins, and even their ex-boyfriends. If Arianna desired, she could line up a perfectly good husband in the company and settle into the middle-class life of Singapore.
But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Every time she came around to the idea, she found herself in the one lesbian bar she trusted enough with her identity and hooking up with the first woman who would take her home. More than once, the dalliance was interrupted when Arianna’s phone buzzed, prompting her to head straight home to get ready for a flight.
So, she wasn’t the perfect daughter. Nor was she the perfect employee, because nobody could know that Arianna Song was gayer than the rainbow kebaya one ex-employee was caught forging for Tokyo Pride.
To compartmentalize her feelings, Arianna embarked on a multi-year journey from the moment she passed Singapura’s interviews. Certain parts of her had to be suppressed. Even more importantly, she must excel so much that nobody doubted her commitment.
The thing about compartmentalization? It was exhausting. Commonly expressed when she finally made it home from a multi-day layover and collapsed in her flat, not to reawaken for three days.
Everything came to a head when she turned twenty-seven. She was the Chief Stewardess of her flights, entitling her to the coveted red kebaya that accentuated her preferred makeup and the dark pink nail polish she had been assigned during her training. That uniform was everything. One step below In-Flight Manager. As much as Arianna loved the look of the red kebaya with her complexion and standard of hygiene, that purple kebaya would mean she had made it. She had accomplished her greatest goal since she was nine years old and met a Singapura Girl for the first time. In Economy, no less.
Then what?
She could only make so much money. If she wanted to maintain her independence and stay with Singapura, at some point, she’d age out of being a flight attendant and either become a trainer or try her luck in the boardroom. But Arianna wasn’t cut out for that rat race, and the thought of being a trainer was stifling. Arianna enjoyed being in the sky, in the galley with her coworkers as they prepped meal service, and enjoying the sights as she traveled the world and filled her passport with things her mother had only dreamed of growing up in China. Often, her selfies and group photos taken while laid over in Paris, Tokyo, and New York were the only times she genuinely smiled.
At the age of twenty-seven, she was at a crossroads. Arianna Song had never been so terrified.
“Excuse me, young lady,” whispered a First Class passenger somewhere between Singapore and Beijing. “I couldn’t help but notice that you are immaculate in your presentation and service. You must be highly valued by this airline.”
The Western woman with a graying perm and floral perfume entranced Arianna. After seeing countless First Class passengers since being long-promoted to that part of the plane, Arianna knew real high-class sophistication when she saw it – and this woman had it.
“I used to be a flight attendant, too,” the older woman with a smart business suit and flawless posture said as Arianna assumed the kneeling position to hear a request. “MGM.”
Arianna dropped the crumpled napkin that she had picked up off the floor. No way…
