Dull Reflections

Four

     Charles smiled to himself. He was surprised Ava had enjoyed the takeoff so well. As for himself, he had always hated it. But the smell of the Hors d'oeuvres began to waft into the cabin.
     The brown haired nineteen year old had begun passing out menus. Ava watched as she slowly made her way towards them. "By the way Charles," she began as she turned to face him "is someone going to pick up that Jag you left at the airport?"
"Oh that was a rental." He responded taking two menus from the attendant. He handed one to Ava. "I'm surprised you were even concerned about that. I turned the keys in while you were in the bathroom."
"I see." She said looking at the menu. "Cocktails and Hors d'oeuvres? Fancy." She began to hum lightly as she eyed the options.
"Well this is first class." Charles said. "Frank Sinatra?" He was referring to her humming.
"Bobby Darin actually, Mack The Knife. Sometimes at the old place they let me pick the music..." Her voiced trailed off there was a darkness that came over her countenance. "Anyway," she continued "Bobby Darin was always my favorite. I think I'm going to get a Manhattan." She pointed at the menu.
"I'm going to get the Tom Collins." Charles said looking up to see the dark haired attendant taking orders near the front of the cabin.
"If you don't mind can I try that too when you get it." Her voice was hopeful yet refined. "It's just I've never actually had a cocktail. Or any kind of drink for that matter."
Charles could sense something else was behind her words, but he refrained from reading her thoughts. He knew she wanted it kept secret. "Sure." His voice was blithe.
     "Drinks?" The woman had made her way to them. She was holding a small pad of paper and a pencil.
      "A Tom Collins for myself. And the Lady will have a Manhattan."
     "And will you be having the Hors d'oeuvres?" She asked scribbling on the paper.
     "Yes thank you." He handed her the menus and she continued on to Erik and the boy named Rufus.
"My Momma says I can have a Shirley Temple!" Rufus piped up.
"Of course." The woman answered politely. "And for you sir?"
"A Jack and Coke." Erik responded.
"My Momma says jack is for alcoholics! Like her ex husband!"
"And a Sidecar." Erik glared at Rufus.
"Yes sir." Her voice was sympathetic "And will you be having the Hors d'oeuvres?"
"My Momma says-" the boy was stopped short.
"Your Momma isn't here boy." Erik had turned his body towards Rufus. "Understand?" He pointed his finger at the boy.
"I'll take that as a yes." The attendant said quietly as she went over to the next set of passengers.
     Erik please control yourself. Charles spoke into the mind of his companion.        "You don't have to sit next to him." Erik said pushing himself into his seat and pulling down the flight tray.
Ava snickered a little bit at the statement. She and Charles did the same with their own trays. Preparing for what was soon to be served. Rufus could be heard chewing nervously on his gum.
The dark haired attendant was handing drinks out along with the nineteen year old as the bartender was making them. "So how long is this flight going to be?" Ava asked looking out the window.
"Eight hours." Erik responded before Charles had a chance to. "We left at four, so when we get there it will be seven o'clock with the time difference."
     Charles weaved his way back into the conversation. "But for you my dear it will feel like midnight. So after they serve dinner you should try and get some sleep."
     "You mean they serve dinner too?" Her eyes were wide in shock as she looked at him. "I don't think I've ever eaten this well in my whole life."
     "Well don't get ahead of yourself." He winked at Ava. "They haven't brought us anything yet."
     Ava's face tightened at his action. Maybe he had tried too hard perhaps. "Here you are." The nineteen year old had appeared with two drinks. One in a martini glass the other in a tall straight one. "The Manhattan." She sat the drink in the martini glass in front of Ava. "And your Tom Collins." She sat the other down on Charles' tray.
Ava picked up her glass and sniffed it, the strong scent of whiskey assaulted her senses. "Well bottoms up." She whispered taking a small sip. The taste was sharp and powerful. She liked it. She sat her own glass down as Charles handed her his drink.
"Go ahead. I don't mind" he could tell she didn't trust him yet. In fact she didn't trust anyone. He felt her take it from him gingerly. Her fingers brushed lightly against his own.
She inhaled deeply taking in a bright lemon scent. When the liquid hit her tongue a fizzy, sour flavor overtook her. "This is amazing. I like yours better..." A tone of remorse to her voice.
"We'll trade then." He took her Manhattan for himself.
"Thank you." She glanced her eyes downward staring at the glass. This is the first time anyone ever cared what I wanted. Her thought had been so desperate that Charles couldn't have missed it if he had wanted too. He felt a touch of melancholy radiating from her. But then it was gone.
"Ava what is the first thing in your life you remember?" Charles felt her bristle at the question. She remained silent.
"Give the girl a break Charles." Erik's voice was flat as it drifted from behind them. He knew all too well how much Charles could push someone.
Ava sat quietly, she was glad to hold onto the silence. She didn't like to think about the past. Or the fact that she couldn't remember her past.
The dark haired attendant had settled Rufus with his Shirley Temple. She was now making her way to Erik, two drinks in hand. She placed them in front of him in silence, perhaps from fear. It wasn't long until he had finished the Sidecar and began to work on the Jack and Coke.
"The first thing I remember is laying on the sidewalk in Liverpool." There was no intonation as Ava spoke. "I was eleven. That's all I have to say about that."
"I'm sorry." Charles said as he took a sip of the Manhattan. "I should have been more considerate." This girl was a pure mystery to him. He could sense nothing prior in her life other than what she had stated. And her CIA file had been incredibly small. So small in fact he had been surprised when Moira had handed it to him. Surprised that it hadn't been thrown out at some point as useless.
     Ava continued to look out her window. The clouds were crisp and so beautiful. After where she had been she felt as though nothing could be more beautiful. She closed her eyes and remembered her first memory. She was laying face down. Concrete pressing into her cheek. That was when she heard the voices; men's voices. They ripped her off of the sidewalk. "Welcome to Liverpool deary." A voice screeched in her ear.
     "Your Hors d'oeuvres miss." The nineteen year old said placing a plate on the tray and breaking Ava out of her trance.
     "Oh thank you." She replied looking at the plate with Melba toast and caviar. Along with it seemed to be a few slices of something she didn't recognize. What on earth is this? She prodded the meat like substance.
     "Foie Gras." Charles told her popping a bite into his mouth. "It's really quite good."
     She looked at the Foie Gras with disdain and apprehension, before taking a bite. "It's awful." She remarked swallowing the bite she had taken.
     "Agreed." Erik's voice was in her ear. "I've never really cared for anything French myself..." He trailed off, sipping his drink.
     "I'll eat yours if you don't want it." Charles gestured to her plate.
     "Be my guest." She said nibbling on a piece of plain Melba toast and sipping the Tom Collins. God that was wretched. She thought to herself. Of course she had swallowed worse in her lifetime she remembered. But never again. "So how exactly did you two meet?" She asked to neither of the men in particular. There was a resounding silence.
"Long story." Erik finally responded.
"I can tell you more when we're somewhere more private." Charles continued.
"I understand." She said, using a small spoon to spread her caviar on the toast. After all the plane was full of people, and too often people had prying ears. "You know I think I like this whole flying thing. It's pretty fun." She smiled as she spoke.
POP! Rufus had broken the relative quiet. Ava watched in disbelief as the spoon in her hand bent in half. She dropped it instantly.
Erik please. Charles pleaded silently to his companion. You cannot do this now.
"Don't tell me what to do." Erik snapped. "I hate being trapped in this tin can."
Ava stared as the spoon continued to morph and contort itself. If she had not seen what had happened only hours prior she would have thought it was the spoon acting of its own free will. Suddenly Charles grabbed the spoon and shoved it in his pocket. Ava looked up. The dark haired attendant was collecting the plates and empty glasses. She stopped and collected their plates and then moved on without a word.
Erik had held on to his own small spoon. He looked at it, the metal seemed to call his name. Seemed to beg him to manipulate it. He ran his thumb along its handle before placing it in his jacket's outer pocket.
Rufus was staring at him, gum clicking with each chew. "You stealing that?" Erik didn't answer. "I'm not surprised. My momma says alcoholics can't help but steal." He was trying to get a response but none came. Erik was no longer there. He was in a world of his own thoughts, a prison which he would never escape.
Something about being Ava mentioning the age eleven had triggered his thoughts. He remembered eleven, far too well. A woman, a bullet, a coin. It didn't do well to dwell on these memories but they burned in his mind.
"Your dinner menu sir." He looked up to see the young brown haired girl. He took the stiff paper from her hand.
"Time for the tough decision." He heard Charles speak. "Chicken or Fish?"
Erik felt his jaw clench at the words. His friend could be so heedless in his words. And as far as he was concerned with the man, he was lacking in tact.