I See London, I See France

London, England Part 5

It's nine p.m. East Coast time and two a.m. London time when Matt finally comes over to talk to Leela. We're very busy picking at our terrible airplane food, aka our second meal of the night. It's also the meal we're supposed to be sleeping through.

"Hi, Leela," he says. "Can we talk?"

I focus intently on the cold pasta and mushy tomatoes. Mmm. Stale bread.

Leela glares at him. "You should have talked to me before getting on this plane."

"I tried to find you at the airport. I didn't see you."

"Before the airport. You should have called."

His cheeks turn red. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have surprised you."

"What are you doing here, anyway?" she barks. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I know. But I didn't really have anything else to do this summer, and I already had the ticket, and . . ." His voice trails off.

The plane starts to shake. The seat belt sign comes on.

". . . and I wanted to see you, I guess."

Leela stares at her hands and doesn't respond.

"Enjoy the cookies," he says, and walks back to his seat.

I am planning on enjoying my cookie. It's wrapped in plastic and looks delicious.

We wait until we're sure he's gone.

"He wanted to see me?" she squeals. "What does that mean? He wants to get back together?"

"Do you want to get back together?" I ask. The possibility of them getting back together hadn't really occurred to me. If they get back together, what happens to me exactly? Will I have to travel Europe with both of them? I do not want to be a third wheel on my own travel adventure.

"No!" she says. "Of course not. He cheated on me! He's a jerk!" She wraps a lock of dark hair tightly around her finger. "But do you think he came to Europe to get back together?"

I imagine being on a top bunk while the two of them have muffled make-up sex in the bunk bed below me.

Did I remember to pack earplugs?

"Please put your tray tables away and your seats into the upright position," the flight attendant announces on the loudspeaker, startling me awake. "It's now six a.m. and we will be landing shortly. The temperature in London is twenty-one degrees Celsius."

I yawn. I got about an hour of sleep, tops. But I did finish One Day and half of The Paris Wife. I'll probably be an exhausted mess, but it's okay because I have four and a half weeks—four and a half weeks!—to rest. I have no essays, no midterms, no group projects, no mother and sister to take care of. I am officially on vacation. I haven't taken an actual vacation since before my parents got divorced. And I've never, ever gone away with Leela. Her family invites me to join them in Naples, Florida, every winter break, but I never wanted to leave my mother. This year Leela brought Matt.

I look over to see that Leela is already awake and trying to repack everything that spilled out of her purse.

"Morning," I say. "Twenty-one degrees? We're going to freeze! Just kidding. It's Celsius! How cute is that?"

"Very charming," Leela says. "That's about seventy degrees. They use Celsius in Canada too, you know."

I open my window cover as the plane descends, not really seeing much. Just clouds. But I know the Thames River and the London Eye and everything else are right below.