“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that,” she stammers out, now not sure what to say. She looks at me, her mouth moving up and down like she's a goldfish caught out of water. Her jowly cheeks are wobbling, and her eyes are darting nervously around as she searches for something else to say.
“It’s fine. I just don’t like to talk about it,” I tell her, looking out the window at the passing clouds. After years of saying that they kicked me out, I’ve stopped, I’ve taken to telling people that they all died in an accident. It’s easier that way. People ask too many questions when you tell them you were evicted from your own family. Besides – it doesn’t make me sound so great. What does it say about me? The one that was cast out. It says no one loved me enough to fight for me, that I’m too much trouble to put up with. It’s better if I say they’re dead – it makes me lucky to be the one who’s still alive. Better still, it stops the questions.
Staring out the window, I watch the clouds roll by below us, like a fluffy white and grey blanket that I so desperately want to touch. The woman turns her attention to the guy sitting on the other side of her and starts to ask him questions about his life instead. I've made her uncomfortable. I have probably made everyone within earshot uncomfortable.
Pressing the buds of my headphones inside my ears, I scroll through my music and select an album. I’m really into 90’s alternative music right now so I choose Custard’s Wahooti Fandango. ‘Teensville’ starts floating into my ears as I close my eyes and lean my head against the window. I keep the sound at a level that is just enough to mask the sounds of the plane but quiet enough to lull me off to sleep.
***
In my dream, there’s a bear growling outside. I’m aware it’s a dream because Australia doesn’t have bears in the wild, so it confuses me to hear one. My consciousness moves forward as the rumbling sounds vibrate through me. It’s the sounds of the plane and…. snoring? My eyes flutter open and I remove the buds from my ears, the album I was listening to long since over, and turn my head toward the exasperating noise.
The woman who was talking to me earlier has her head tilted back, her mouth is wide open and the noise is emanating from her throat. I squint at her, willing her with my mind to stir enough so the noise will stop. When she starts making a small choking sound, I flinch, surprised and slightly impressed with my new mind control ability as she quiets and her breathing evens out.
I breathe out slowly - glad the noise is over; and move to replace the buds in my ears. But I’m paused, my reprieve all too brief, as my skull starts vibrating when she starts up again – so much for my awesome mind control skills…
I cross my eyes in agitation and reach my hand toward her, clamping my fingers on either side of her nose. She makes a guttural sound, and I withdraw my hand quickly, looking out the window and pretending nothing happened. I start counting seconds as I wait to see if it worked, feeling safe when I reach a full minute in silence.
“Thank god,” I say to myself as I lean my head back against the window. The second I begin to relax however, she starts up again.
The guy on the other side of her starts laughing. As I lean forward to look at him, I realise he’s the one I noticed in the waiting area before we boarded. He’s laughing so hard, that I find myself smiling without even meaning to.
He's quite frankly, the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on, but looks almost too large to be in such a small seat. His long legs are angled so that one is in the aisle, and the other is wedged in the minute gap between the seats in front of him. He has broad firm shoulders that span further than the width of the seat. His hair is light golden brown and a little longer than I like on guy, but it kind of suits him. He’s wearing a good day or two worth of stubble - which I’ll admit is a bit on the sexy side. But it’s his eyes that are most striking. They look like someone took the clearest, bluest part of the ocean and dropped it into his irises.