Illusory

Chapter 8

"What was your problem back there?" I asked, breaking a silence that had lasted for nearly ten minutes. Van walked ahead of me, careful to create another foot of space between us every time I tried to walk alongside him. He wouldn't even look at me.

"Problem?" he asked in return, his tone nonchalant, and I was surprised that he'd replied at all. "I didn't have a problem. He was the one who seemed to have a problem."

"How did he have a problem?" I kicked a rock the size of my foot, and it only rolled a few inches forward. "He seemed to be acting perfectly fine to me. You were the one who was giving everyone dirty looks and throwing around commands."

"Did you not see it?" he snapped, rounding on me so quickly that I barely had time to stop myself from bumping into him. He glared down at me, something deep in his eyes hissing, "You're stupid, aren't you, you silly little girl?"

"What was there to see?" I asked, annoyed. "He didn't do anything. He was a little bit cold toward you, but it wasn't like he was being a total dick, unlike someone else in this argument."

"Do you really just let men talk to you that way? Look at you that way? Does it not register as wrong to you?" he nearly shouted, throwing his hand over my shoulder in a violent gesture back toward that little cabin-like building.

My jaw dropped. "That's what this is about? The fact that he might have been hitting on me?"

"Might have been?" he scoffed. "Might have been? He was all over you!"

I rolled my eyes. He was like an overreacting parent, and I didn't appreciate it, especially since he'd never seemed to care this much before. "If you think that was a guy being 'all over me,' you need to get out more. He didn't touch me, he didn't look at me inappropriately, and he really didn't even say anything all that bad. He flattered me once, and that was the end of it."

Van spun and resumed his huffy trek down the road. "I didn't like the way he was looking at you," he grumbled, but he didn't go on.

I sighed. "Why do you even care? I'm not your girlfriend, I'm not your daughter, I'm not your sister; we have no real relationship. Definitely nothing that would warrant this kind of protectiveness. I'm just your assistant."

"I suppose you're right," he muttered, poking a finger through one of the holes in his jacket front. "I have no reason to care about your well-being."

I nodded once, and after that, we continued on in silence. He had nothing else to say, it seemed, and I didn't have the courage to tell him how much that response had hurt me.

-?-

"Hey, Mom, it's me again," I said, spinning in slow circles in the middle of the airport with the phone pressed to my ear. I was taking in all of the people, most of them passing by me and some stopping to watch me with their heads cocked. They were all bundled up in coats, hats, gloves, the whole deal, and I wondered why I hadn't thought to bring any of that stuff. It was freaking cold up here. "I lived the first time, but the plane did crash, just like I said it would."

I stopped spinning when a child pointed at me, giggling, and asked, "What is that lady doing?" and her mother responded, a glare trained on me for reasons I couldn't fathom, "Being stupid. Keep walking." They stormed off, and I stared after them, making faces at the child who strained to watch me over her shoulder.

"So, yeah, I told you so," I said, finally returning to my role as an adult...sort of. "But there's nothing to worry about. We're all right, and so are most of the other people that were on the plane. Compared to what could've happened, the broken bones and scratches weren't really that big of a deal. We're about to go up again, though, so I just thought I would call to tell you that I love you again, just in case." I laughed suddenly, grinning to myself. "Hey, look. I don't think I'm afraid of planes anymore. I haven't stammered or freaked out or anything! Bye, Mom. I love you."