Visible and Invisible

Caught Crying

Diane tried not to cry.

She really did.

But remembering the sight of her mother, looking small and fragile amongst a crowd of people at the airport, waving her off as her only daughter boarded the plane was too much for Diane to keep inside.

She  felt bad for the man sitting next to her, in the aisle seat. When he caught sight of her tears, he seemed uncomfortable. A large man, he seemed to be filled with dejection, as though every woman he had ever felt anything for tore him down. Now, seeing a young girl start to cry right beside him with no where to go, he didn't seem to be able to sit still in his own skin.

Trying not to be a nuisance, Diane attempted to stifle her cries, but to no avail. Every time she began to control herself, the image of her mother alone, waking up alone, getting ready for her day alone, coming home to an empty house after work, and falling asleep alone, brought on more heaving sobs. 

Wordlessly, the man beside her dug through his jacket pocket and found a cheap packet of tissues, and offered them to the girl. Her heart warmed at the gesture and she took them, still crying, and beamed at him. "Thank you," she whispered, then blew her nose.

It took a few minutes before Diane had her crying under control. Tears continued to fall, but they dripped down her cheeks in silence. She was startled when the person in the seat in front of her turned around suddenly and stared straight at her.

It was a boy. He looked like any other boy Diane had seen. Dark hair, olive skin, and boyish cheekbones. His eyes stood out, though. Bright green, like sour apples, curiously peeked over the seat and looked Diane over once. 

The boy's expression was also different than most boys. Rather than looking upon a puffy-eyed, red-nosed girl in sympathy or in  annoyance, he seemed curious. Like he didn't know girls could actually cry.

"What?" Diane asked gently, not wanting to be sharp but also feeling uncomfortable. She wiped the tears on her face away with one quick swipe and continued to look at the boy, who stared back at her. 

He adjusted his position without breaking eye contact before asking, "Why are you crying?"

It was a moment before Diane answered. "I miss my mother. I've never been away from her."

The boy made no reply, but continued to watch Diane with cautious eyes. Finally, he said, "Why did you leave her?"

His genuine curiosity was unsettling, yet enjoyable. Diane felt like she was six years old again, talking to a boy who had caught her crying in a schoolyard with a grass-stained knee. "I left her to go to a boarding school. Maddox School."

At this bit of information, the boy's eyes seemed to glow. "Really? I'm attending Maddox, too." She couldn't decipher if the boy sounded excited at meeting a fellow classmate, or sad that he had to admit to going to Maddox. He seemed resigned.

"I'm Diane Freemont," Diane decided to say.

The boy grinned like a child and said, "Henry. Henry Sharp. Pleased to meet you."

The boy- Henry- struggled to extend his hand out to her, trying to reach over the back of the seat. Diane took it, they shook, and both smiled. 

It was then that Diane realized that the man to her left had pressed the "Attendant" button, summoning a female flight attendant who scolded her and Henry and urged him to sit down in his seat and buckle up. 

With one last smile at Diane, Henry slid back into his chair, facing forward. Now she felt resigned. Wanting to get to know Henry better, she pulled a notebook out of her backpack and began scribbling furiously, then folded up the paper and slid the note through the chairs in front of her. Henry noticed the paper and took it. She could hear him unfolding it and her stomach twisted into knots.

Diane had made a friend.