Infatuated

Five

Pandora's box.

The Greeks explicitly demonstrated how one's inquisitiveness can lead to a release of pure animosity, cruelty, and heart wrenching despair. In retrospect, if we could gain insight into the consequences of our actions beforehand, then surely enough half of the choices we make would still remain curious thoughts. I suppose that's why hope was the only remaining spirit, something we can hold onto to progress through life's adversities.

My own crippling dilemma is that I never pictured myself lifting the lid off my own box, standing in the ashes of my actions, holding onto the spirit of hope with a deathly grip. But as much as I wish hope was everlasting like a taunting spirit, it is only a transient emotion. I just wonder how long I'll have a hold on mine, because even all the hope and faith in the world will begin to falter under immense weight.

"This has been amazing." Lorenzo chirps beside me, his sunglass-covered eyes looking out at the horizon. He steadily slips his hand in mine, grazing the pad of his thumb against my skin, a thin smile on his lips. "Ready to get back to the snow?"

"No, not at all." I force out a breathy chuckle, tucking strands of a hair behind my ear. He shakes his head as he continues to talk up the winter weather back home, while my eyes catch sight of Josephine boarding the plane. Her decision to fly back with us all on Lorenzo's plane caught us by surprise, but I didn't miss the glint in her eyes when she announced it, her eyes trained solely on mine throughout. "On second thought," I begin, "I might actually miss the snow. Just a little bit."

More like I miss being in the wintery sanctuary of my own home—over seven hundred miles away from Josephine, New York, and everything else in relation to my affair.

"Yeah? That's the spirit, baby."

I smile over at my husband, slowly leaning towards him with puckered lips. My heart feels at ease with the familiar notion, but the tightening feeling in the pit of my stomach only encourages the taunts from conscience.

Everything will work itself out once we're back home. It has no reason to not. The sole distraction in all of this will be away in another state, forcing herself in paperwork and meetings to even think to care about anyone else, let alone her own well-being. As far as I'm concerned, I'll merrily be a long after thought to Josephine Stephens before we even return to the states.

And I have immense resentment towards that reality.

". . . Mrs. Stephens?"

I swallow down my thoughts as I begin to register the voice calling my name. The plane attendant respectfully stands to my right, his hands crossed in front of him with a thin grin on his lips.

"Oh- um, hi. I-I'm sorry, but could you repeat yourself?"

"I was just asking to take your belongings now, ma'am. You and Mr. Stephens are the last to be loaded up."

"Yes, thank you, George." Lorenzo answers, allowing George to begin moving our luggage. We begin walking towards the plane, Lorenzo letting out a sigh with George now out of earshot. "Hopefully he can find room under there."

"Josephine didn't bring any more bags than the rest of us did." I reply.

"Yes, but we also took the smaller jet. There's a weight limit, and extra passengers and baggage could potentially exceed said limit."

I remain silent as we reach the ramp, the cool air conditioning swallowing me as I enter the plane. Antonio lays across the small couch, arm draped over his eyes and earbuds securely in. Vincent and Mariana converse softly across from one another, a small bowl of fruit centered on the tabletop between them. Nicolette grasps a book tightly, her eyes focused in on the pages as she plops herself down beside Mariana. Everyone seems content and well settled, even Josephine as she sips on a glass of sparkling water. I clear my throat softly while averting my eyes away from her, purposefully taking seat in the very back of the plane.