Fashion Disaster

Chapter 3

(Aurora's P.O.V.) 

The plane soared higher and higher, soon nothing but a large stretch of land and a few specks—other planes, perhaps?--speckled the ground far below. I gripped my arm rest tightly, nails burying themselves beneath the cushion. I was unaccustomed to flying and it felt as if a rock had suddenly become lodged in my throat. 

On the contrary, Grandmother sat still, her gaze long-fully glued to the window. She had that expression again—though I could only see half of her face—where her eyes were soft, almost sad, but mouth curled into a smile. 

Was she happy? Or was she depressed, made upset by something long ago? 

Though I couldn't tell, I found that watching her serene figure helped to ease my uncomfortability and fear of being hundreds of feet in the air. 

But as if noticing my staring, she turned around and greeted me with a distasteful scowl. "What is it, darling?" 

"Nothing," I uttered, stomach beginning to heave once more. My words crawled up my throat and settled uncomfortably on my tongue.  

She squinted at me, doubtful. "Are you ill from the flight? You're looking paler than normal." 

"I..." Sick rose up in my throat, and I struggled to force it back down. "I think so." 

"Hm," She clucked her tongue thoughtfully, and began to search through her purse before retrieving a small, beige packet. She then handed it to me after opening it, and I took a small stick of... ? 

"It's gum," She clarified. "Ginger gum. All organic and said to help relieve nausea. Also, it helps a bit to focus on something other than your sickness: perhaps the outside scenery?" 

I turned it over in my fingers, lips pressed into a fine line. It didn't sound—or look—to be too appetizing. But what else could be done? Though suspicious of my grandmother's sudden kindness, I popped it into my mouth and chewed, a wave of flavors and sensations burning my tongue. I nearly gagged; nearly spat the foul concoction right out. But I grimaced through the taste and, as Grandmother had suggested, focused elsewhere. Outside.  

Through the window I could make out the wisps of white that whipped by and the mid-morning light, illuminating the plane in an orange glow. It was lovely. Beautiful. We were above the birds now, high above all of my problems, all of which seemed so insignificant to the here and now.  

It was something... something I found I could maybe grow used to. 

*** 

Somewhere in between texting Theo, I must've fallen asleep. I couldn't quite place when; I just knew that when I awoke, my phone was clutched precariously loose in my hand.  

A cold, thin finger brushed the naked nape of my neck, and I jolted. Grandmother smiled wickedly upon me.  

"Have you yet to message your father?" 

My brow scrunched. Didn't she hate him? I always failed to understand both her and her motives. But somberly I shook my head. I remembered that much; struggling with the thought as to whether or not to message him. It was my own stubbornness, my own pride, that kept me from doing so. I refused to be the first to reach out. 

She grunted, amused... almost as if she understood. "Figured as much. Sleep well, darling?" 

Though concerned by the abrupt change of topic, I shook my head yes. "Pretty much. Though I am thirsty." 

I passed the wad of gum around in my mouth, which had begun again to salivate for even the skimpiest drop of water. She again surprised me, passing my a bottle of water and a scrap of paper—presumably to put my gum in—before turning away to look out the window. Almost as if she couldn't hold my questioning glance.