When The Time Comes

chapter 13; June

I walk through the aisle slowly, reading the seat numbers below the overhead cabins. There's already an older man sitting on the aisle seat. He looks up, through his glasses at Omar and I, with his eyebrows raised.

"Are these your seats?"

"Yes," I say just as he stands up, giving us room to squeeze in.

My foot slips on the buckle that's thrown across the seat, catching my shoe. Omar's hand quickly catches my side, holding me until I find my balance. When I do, I crawl to my window seat and land with a thump. The amount of space between seats is so small it should be criminal.

"Sorry," I mumble to nobody in particular.

"It's alright," the man replies, holding an open magazine under his armpit. I purposely avoid looking at the passengers standing behind him as he holds up the line. If only stares could kill.

"Do you want the window seat?" I ask the guy but he just shakes his head, like he knew I would ask.

"I paid extra for the aisle seat," he laughs. I don't see how any of this could be funny to him but I return it with a nod and smile. Thank god this flight is only an hour and a half long.

Omar settles into the seat beside me. I can smell pinewood from him, the subtle smell of body wash that I only pick up on because he's right next to me. Finding my buckle and strap, I fasten the belt around my stomach and push the blind up to look outside.

"You okay?" Omar asks.

I turn to look at him and give him a nod, "Yeah, I'm good."

"I can ask Ben again if you want his seat," he offers. I don't know if it's just me or if he looks somewhat wounded by the fact I didn't want this seat but I shake it off as just me overthinking.

"It's just an hour," I remind him. "It's fine."

The clouds are dark, brimming with rain. Part of me wishes the weather was better. I can't stand turbulence. It's one of the scariest things that can happen to you.

Is it just a bad cloud or are you plummeting into the sea? Nobody knows.

The plane takes longer than I expected to begin moving. Underneath us, the wheels vibrate and scrape against the hard ground. I can feel every movement. Then the plane starts to pick up speed, racing down the runway. I have it together up until the lights turn off and I grip the arm rests at either side.

I touch Omar's hand by mistake, quickly letting him go as the plane takes off. I lean back, staring at the front of the plane from over the seat in front of me.

"Have you ever flown before?" he asks, watching me intently.

"Of course I have, I just hate flying," I mumble, loosening my grip.

One ear pops and then the other does too. I can't hear clearly and for a while, the dull hum in the background feels like I'm being held under water- That is until I press the bridge of my nose and blow.

"Huh," he says before pulling out the food menu from behind the seat in front of him.

I rest my head on the cool glass. It feels good against my hot forehead. I hate how hot my period makes me feel. I'm sweating while an overhead AC blows cold air on me. Exhaustion overcomes me but I can't sleep. Not in a plane.

Before getting the letter, I would have been scared of dying here. And while I haven't taken many flights in my life, every flight feels the same. There's just so much that go wrong up in the air. Where do the birds go? Do they get trapped in the giant rotating parts often? Has lightning ever struck a plane down? I mean, it is a giant metal object in the sky. It only makes sense to wonder about these things.