“And?”
“And then they moved back home. To Wisconsin. To be nearme!” she said in an exasperated tone.
“Well, that’s nice.”
“My mom and I don’t see eye to eye.” She paused and gestured to herself. “I’m not the daughter she wanted.” She rubbed her forehead. “Obviously.”
“I’m sure your parents are very proud of you regardless of what happened today,” I said because…well, what do you say to that? Besides, it would be better for both of us if she stopped crying.
Just then, the loudspeaker crackled as the captain signaled our takeoff, and the plane began to cascade down the runway, gaining speed.
The woman, whose name I still didn’t know, clutched her chest. “Oh my goodness, I think I feel a little sick.”
I touched her arm. She felt cold, despite the sweatshirt. But even worse, her face had gone as white as her sweatshirt.
“Try deep breaths.” I went into ER mode. “Keep your head down.”
She inhaled deeply. “You were right,” she whispered. “Three was too many.”
Her hand came up to her mouth, which I recognized as the universal vomit sign. I quickly dumped out all my homemade goodies just in time to hand Santa over for his ultimate sacrifice.
And then she hurled.
People around us freaked out. “Ew, gross,” I heard from behind us. “Henry, did someone justpuke?” came from the woman in front of me.
Despite being mid-takeoff, the flight attendant was on us in a flash, handing over wipes, tissues, a glass of cold water, and a brand-new barf bag. My seatmate’s face quickly went from pale to bright red as she wiped her mouth, shakily accepted the water, and thanked the attendant profusely.
All this before we hit 30,000 feet.
A minute later, my new friend sat back and lifted up her sunglasses. When she turned to me this time, I saw that her eyes were a clear, pale blue, lined like a raccoon with watered-down mascara, but still stunning. I immediately saw something in them that I was no stranger to—pain. “I’m really sorry,” she said. And then she started to cry.
Ani
On my way back from the bathroom, I paused in the aisle in front of my seatmate, crossing my arms to hide the fact that I was freezing. I also felt incredibly sober. “I want you to know that I’m normally a responsible person. I’m actually a pediatrician. I’m saying this because I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.”
“What’s your name?” the man asked after I’d excused myself, climbed over his long legs, and lowered myself back into my window seat. “I mean, I think we should be on a first-name basis after working together to avert a greater disaster, don’t you?”
He punctuated his statement with a winsome grin, which told me that with looks like his, he was probably used to being charming. The fact that he was joking did wonders for my embarrassment, which was painfully acute. He was nice and was clearly trying to help a woman who surely appeared to be losing it all around.
For the first time, I noticed that he had a head full of thick wavy hair and enough lean muscle to be an easy contender for a name-brand underwear ad. My looks were a completely different story. While I’d managed to finger-brush my teeth, it was impossible to make my hair look normal after the stylist had sprayed an entire bottle of intense-hold hairspray all over it this morning, giving it the consistency of frozen leaves.
“My name is Ani.” I handed him a clean plastic bag I’d procured from our saintly flight attendant. “For your goodies.” Which were now tucked into the seat pocket in front of him. Also, he’d taken off his black quarter zip and left it on my seat. Out of necessity, I’d pitched my sweatshirt in the bathroom trash and was now so cold I had to grit my teeth to prevent them from chattering. But surely he couldn’t be offering me, a complete stranger, his jacket. I picked it up as I sat down.
“Your name is pronouncedOni?” he asked. “NotAnnie?”
“That’s right.” Why was he even talking to me? I looked like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket. And I’d barfed in his Santa bag.Geesh.
“I’m Adam,” he said, extending his hand. When I grasped it, he squeezed with a gentle but firm pressure. Comforting. He had nice hands. And they were warm. Which I definitely wasn’t.
“Listen, Adam. I’m so sorry. I—I don’t usually drink and I?—”
He scanned me, taking in all my disarray. And my white camisole. I quickly crossed my arms over my chest to hide what I was sure was even more of a show.
“You’re clearly having a bad day, he said. “No apologies necessary.”
“Areallybad day,” I emphasized. “I’m sorry about…Santa.”
“He was irreplaceable.”
