Page 114
The Delta Comfort seat is starting to become part of my ass. The extra three inches of legroom isn’t enough. I wasn’t about to pay for first class, even for a sixteen-hour flight. Thought the stop in JFK would give me enough of a break. Now, with only an hour to go, I am rethinking the decision.
The woman next to me is asleep with her mouth open. At least there is no snoring. I didn’t expect to be sitting next to a sleeping passenger for this long. There was an introduction and a few exchanges. She was awake for the first four or five hours of this leg, when I was watching two movies with my earbuds in. She has been in a too long of a flight coma since then.
Grabbing the iPad, I try once more. Word. Aargon’s email. After writing at least five different attempts, I am left with two blah paragraphs. The only part I am sure of, isDear Aargon.The rest gets deleted. Start again.
Wish I knew what I want to say. I am not even sure of that. Except for the part that needs to be clear. I care for him. Oh yeah, bye bye now, I am running away from home, on a personal journey to find myself. Can you come and uproot your entire life? What a fool I am. It is my dream, not his.
Starring at the screen, I am suddenly aware. She is watching me. Her hair is pressed against the side of her face and she smooths it in place. Arms reach to the ceiling, in a deep stretch.
“Are we there yet?”
“Almost. Another hour.”
“Oh. I need to start fixing myself.”
She’s pretty. About sixtyish, I think.
“I hate to use the bathrooms on a plane. You?”
“They’re the worst.”
Undoing her seatbelt, she rises and takes a bag from the overhead. And then she is gone, heading for the back. I return to my attempt to tell Aargon how I feel. Not all of what I feel, but more than I have ever let him know.
Dear Aargon,
It has only been a few hours.Delete.It has been fifteen hours since we stood on the porch. Saying…saying what?Saying goodbye.No shit. We said goodbye because I was leaving. Delete.I don’t think everything we had to say was said.That’s good.I know I did not say all I feel.I am using the wordsaytoo much. Delete. Delete. Delete. Start again.
This is taxing my brain. I don’t think I am thinking clearly in this oxygen altered atmosphere. Thank God the woman is coming back. What was her name?
“How do I look?”
“Good!”
She sits and reclips the belt.
“I’m sorry. I forgot your name.”
“Paula.”
“My brain is a sieve today. All I want to do is get there and catch some real sleep.”
“Not me,” she says with a sassy tone.
“Oh yeah? What are you going to do?”
“Probably lock myself in the bedroom with my boyfriend. He lives in Paris.”
I put the iPad away and take out my saltwater taffy. This is much more interesting than writing a poorly constructed letter.
“That sounds much better than my plans. Would you like some?”
She waves me away.
“No. Just brushed my teeth. I have to be kissing sweet.”
It sort of makes me happy to hear such an inspiring love story.
“How long have you been together?”
