In My True Element

Chapter 13

We're back at the airport getting ready for our second flight. Earlier today I saw Ilana whispering about something with Davidson. Now the hotel room needs to mend a dent in the wall and my knuckles are still bleeding a little bit. But I'm too angry to care about any of that.

"Hey there, how are you?" Amelia, who's come outside to meet us, smiles at me. "Your face looks much better. You look almost cute."

"Thanks." I give her a pitiful smile, forcing the anger away.

"Have you succeeded in whatever it is you came here to do?" Her fingers with perfectly manicured nails are running up and down the piece of paper she's holding.

I look at the little dance they are doing and feel some of the tension leave my body, "Of course."

Amelia and I walk side by side to the plane.

"So, are we flying back home?"

"Nope, in fact we're flying to Vietnam."

"Really?" Her radiant smile draws me in. "I've never been there. And do you know how long we'll be staying there?"

"It depends on how fast we can find... this thing." My answer is evasive but she doesn't pry, which I'm grateful for.

Ilana's raised voice brings us to a stop. She's screaming at another flight attendant whose face has turned green; the poor fellow looks almost sick.

With a genuine concern on her face Amelia watches her coworker being screamed at.

"Did something go badly on the trip?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"Ilana never just screams at other people. Maybe when she gives orders to the soldiers... but besides that she is usually quiet. Almost too quiet."

"Have you known her long?"

"As long as I've been working for Mr. Brackwick, about seven years."

"And you've never heard her scream for no good reason?" I point at Ilana, who is now angrily stomping into the plane.

"Never." Amelia whispers and excuses herself. The second flight attendant is in serious need of some emotional support, and she goes to the rescue.

I get on the jet and full-speed bump into Ilana, who's forgotten something outside and is on her way there.
"Oops – sorry." I raise my hands, trying not to touch her.

She pushes me in the chest. "Watch where you're going." After she whispers something that sound like idiot, she brushes past me and exits the jet.

I look around; everything looks exactly the same as I remember it. In the middle there's a beige couch that's long and wide enough for a tired passenger to sleep on. On a table right in front of it stands a bowl full of fruit.

Everything is in its place and looks almost perfect, except for Ilana's backpack, which is thrown on the floor next to one of the seats.

I take my seat across from Ilana's bag and look up at Amelia, who's approached me.

"How's your friend?" I ask.

"Josh? He's a bit shaken up. But he'll be just fine. So, did you like it in Croatia?" she asks curiously as she leans against the seat in front of me and crosses her hands over her chest.

"It was good. Croatia's one of the most amazing places in the world. I love their national park."

"I can see that."

"How?"

"Your eyes. They're gleaming right now."

I run my hand through my slightly disheveled hair, unable to contain a smile. Ilana, followed by six soldiers whom I've come to know better than I want to, walks back in and noisily gets in her seat. We don't pay her any attention.

"Have you been in Vietnam before?" From the corner of my eyes I notice Ilana sigh in exasperation and roll her eyes heavenward.

"Yes, I have. But it's been really long time; I bet I won't even recognize the place now."

"Well, it can't have changed that much."

"You have no idea." We smile as Amelia's eyes slide to my hands.

"Your finger looks much better; it's almost healed." She points at my crooked and swollen index finger that never got the medical attention it needed.

"Amelia, isn't there anything useful you can do?" Annoyed by our conversation, Ilana finally gives up and snaps at the poor girl.

The flight attendant's face turns white, then red, then white again. "Oh, yes, of course; I'm sorry."

She excuses herself and walks away with her head bent down.

"You didn't have to do that. That poor child didn't do anything to deserve your attitude."

"Poor child?" Ilana snorts. "That poor child was practically salivating all over you."

Ilana snorts and turns to the window. For a second I don't know what to say, but then I shake my head.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were jealous." Ilana lifts her head and laughs out loud.

"Get over yourself! What is there to be jealous of? You're hardly the man a woman would lose her mind over."

"Why not?" I ask, feeling the anger seeping through my pores. "I'm not as sadistic as Brat, or not as ripped as your other boyfriend?" I nod at Davidson who's closely studying the two of us.

"Because you're a colossal disappointment for everyone in your life. You ran away to Paris leaving your parents vulnerable, which got them killed. You weren't there to protect Earth when Brat came to his cabin and you led your other sorry excuse for siblings straight into my father's dungeon. Is it enough or should I go on?" She arches one of her eyebrows, a half-smile playing on her lips. She knows she couldn't have said anything else to make me feel worse.

"It's enough." I whisper through my tightly clenched jaw and turn away from her.