Conversations in Flight
"How old are you?" I asked.~Hammeh
"Ha, why do you ask? I'm probably your age, or something like that." She said.
"Just curious." I said, watching the way she untangled the headphones of her ipod. It was a good sign that she hadn't put them in yet, but it still looked like she planned to. "And I doubt you're my age."
She gave me this funny look, like she wasn't quite sure why some stranger would ask her these things. I could see her quick glance at the ipod; she wasn't sure she wanted to risk closing her eyes and listening to the music. "Well," she said, her hands paused in mid-motion. "How old are you, then?"
"Oh, please don't ask." I answered, and I could see her looking at me, trying to discern for herself my age. "It's so embarrassing. I'm so old." I slid the bookmark out of my book, opening it up to my most recent page. I could tell she wasn't going to be in this conversation much longer.
"Uhm, I'm sixteen." She said. And suddenly the flashy silver-pink of her ipod and the pop-star magazine she had in her bag made sense. Her lip gloss was strawberry flavored. "So, now it's your turn."
Sixteen. I hate thinking about sixteen year olds. Actually, I hate thinking about anybody under the age of sixty. It depresses me. I couldn't remember her question.
I told her so. She frowned, "If you don't want to tell me, fine then." I could see that she was scouting out a new seat.
"Plane's full." I told her. "Sorry. Also, stop thinking about whether or not Mark was cheating. He wasn't. And he really does love you." I straightened myself in my seat.
Sometimes I forget that there are certain things that you aren't supposed to mention. I mean, like, there are things you aren't allowed to mention, but those aren't the same. I'm talking about the kind of things that you really ought to refrain from saying because they have this weird tendency to upset people quite badly.
I could tell right away that I had made this kind of mistake.
"Excuse me?" She said to me, but this time her voice isn't quite as full of bravado as before. There's this shake to it.
"Sorry," I said, but I don't mean it. Shouldn't a girl know who loves her?
"Who are you?" She asked. "And how do you know Mark?" This time with a hiss.
"You know him." I told her. She wouldn't understand. And I didn't blame her at all. She shouldn't understand. Sometimes even I don't understand.
But I guess that's why you just do what you're told to. I guess that's just part of having a job.
She was putting in one headphone now; she kept the ear closest to me free, and didn't stop looking at me.
"Look, I'm sorry." I said. I would have smiled, but that really puts people on edge. "We started off on the wrong foot. What's your name?" I already knew it, but it always helps to feign normalcy.
"Lucy," she (Aiden) said. I had to give her some credit.
I sighed, and I think that that's when she knew. We were about half an hour from our destination, but it wasn't her destination.
"Oh," she said.
"Yes," I said. "I'm sorry, Aiden. Please don't ask for forgiveness or anything. You haven't done anything wrong." I looked into her eyes for the first time. And I could see my blue ones reflected back in hers. "Sometimes that's just how life is."
She couldn't speak. Whenever I meet with someone, it's either speechlessness or complete disjointed verbosity. It's always easier with the latter ones.
"Aiden?" Suddenly, she knew what was going to happen, like, she knew how it was going to happen. She could feel her heart beat faster. Too much. I wouldn't blame her if she called for a flight attendant, someone, anyone. But she didn't.
She just looked at me, took out the headphones, and asked if she had time for a letter. I told her that I could delay it a bit, so long as it happened before we landed.
I remember her scribbling furiously. Scratching things out, adding things. There was one point where she started to cry. But in the end, she turned to me and said.
"I just have one question, well, one that I think you can answer." I nodded for her to continue. "Do we get another chance?"
I smiled. I told you it was disconcerting when I did that, and she was no exception. My smile means many things. But for Aiden, it meant only a few.
"That's not my decision," I said softly, "that's for The Big Guy to decide."
"Oh," she whispered, her heart beginning to fail, "that's okay then, I guess."
And we were gone.
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