Lonely People

Paul Vs. Amelia

No matter what, I will always hate airplanes. Anything that separated my feet and the ground was immediately something I despised. Every time we hit even the smallest amount of turbulence, I found myself going into a panic attack. It was unavoidable. No amount of gum, music, or pillows could stop me from panicking. Even Molly's constant reassurance didn't help. 

Tensions were already high as it was. We all loved each other, don't get me wrong, but sometimes we really hated each other. Those you love most know exactly how to get under your skin, even if they don't do it on purpose.

"Melly, are you alright?" Molly asked.

She rubbed my back as I leaned forward and groaned, "I'm going to be sick."

"Do you need the loo?"

I didn't have time to reply. I leaped up and rushed to the bathroom, slamming the door and falling to kneel next to the toilet. Everything I had eaten for the past week came up. I groaned loudly, silently vowing to travel by boat for the rest of my life.

When I came out of the bathroom, I didn't feel as sick, but the panic hadn't gone away. We hit a particularly rough patch of turbulence just as I was walking down the aisle. It sent me into a panic and to the floor. The entire plane shook as I landed on my hands and knees. The back of my hand hit the nearest table, sending flaring pain up my nerves.

"Lia!" Paul exclaimed.

I glanced up, "Fine, I'm fine!"

"You wanker!"

I lifted an eyebrow. Using the edge of the table, I pulled myself to stand. Paul had jumped from his seat and was waving about a drenched notebook. A cup that had once been filled with water was sitting sideways on the table he and John were sharing.

"You did that on purpose!" Paul exclaimed.

I scoffed, "You honestly think I spilled your water?"

"I bloody well saw your hand hit it."

"I didn't touch your fucking water!" I exclaimed, "I fell and my hand hit your table. I'm fine, thank you for asking."

Paul sneered, "You hit the cup on purpose."

"I can't help that there's turbulence!"

"You can keep yourself from knocking over cups!"

Molly had stood up at that point to try and pull us away from each other, but Paul was standing between her and me. She gazed around his shoulder helplessly, silently telling me to shut up. I was at the breaking point and ready to hit something.

"You're always ready to blame someone else, aren't you, Paul?" I demanded, "Have ever since we were kids!"

"I'm only blaming you because you did it!"

"I didn't do it!"

Paul frowned, "Then, how did my cup turn over?"

"The plane turned us all over, what makes you think your cup is immune?"

"It was in the bloody cup holder! It has to be pushed out."

"Or bounced out!"

Paul sneered at me. I flung up my hands and shouted, "What do you want me to do about it, anyways? Oh, I'm sorry about your oh so precious notebook even though it wasn't my fault."

"Apology not accepted," Paul crossed his arms and frowned.

"That's not surprising."

Paul scoffed, "What the bloody fuck is that supposed to mean?!"