Ten Years

Chapter Six

Her eyelids felt heavy as if every one of her eyelashes weighed a ton. Her arms and legs and everything felt heavy. She wanted to stay buried under the weight of this heavy blanket, but a deep voice was pulling at the strings of her consciousness.

The words cut through her foggy mind. "Hey. Darling," whispered the voice.

Leïla yawned and pressed her fingers to her eyelids without opening her eyes. She had no recollection of falling asleep.

"They're bringing out the food. I figured you wanted a bite to eat," said the same voice. It was so close, almost a caress against her ear. Yawning again, she opened her eyes and froze. Her head was on someone's shoulder. And then it hit her. The cute Brit. Her head was on his shoulder. Splendid. Just splendid.

"Sorry," she said adjusting herself in her seat. She tried to ignore that his thigh was touching hers and asked, "How long was I sleeping?"

"Not much. Thirty minutes or so? I popped to the loo and when I came back, you were already asleep."

Oh, God. I hope I wasn't snoring. Or drooling.

She passed a hand over her mouth and chin. No trace of drool. She sighed inwardly then shook her head to clear her thoughts. She remembered now. After they discussed her book for a moment, he had excused himself. His lanky body had seemed even longer from where she was sitting. "Save this seat for me, will you?" he had said with a wink before walking down the aisle.

The food cart stopped past their row and her stomach growled as the smell of warm pasta sauce reached her nostrils.

Edward was handed a tray which he passed to Leïla. The flight attended handed him another one and asked what they wanted to drink. They both asked for fizzy water.

Leïla looked at her food tray. There was a salad, a fruit tart, a piece of cheese, bread and a hot dish - beef lasagna with fresh egg pasta according to the small card on the tray.

"Excuse me," she said, trying to catch the flight attendant's attention. She added when he turned towards her, "Is it possible to have a different option than the lasagna? I'm allergic to eggs."

"I'm afraid we're out of fish. Oh, and if you're allergic to eggs, don't eat the fruit tart." He winced and added, "I'm really sorry, miss. Next time you can call ahead and let the airline know about your dietary restrictions."

She nodded. "Alright, thank you."

He locked eyes with her for a moment, licking his lips. "Let me see what I can do."

"I'm okay. Thank you, though."

"Absolutely not," he said with a smile, keeping his eyes on her. "We have sandwiches scheduled for later. I'll bring you one in a bit."

"He's awfully helpful," offered Edward as soon as the flight attendant left their row.

Leïla shrugged her shoulders and rummaged through her bag pulling out an antibacterial hand lotion. She squeezed some of it into her hands then offered it to her neighbour. He gladly accepted the bottle she handed him.

By the time they started eating the salad on their trays, the flight attendant was back. "Here you are," he said as he handed her two sandwiches and a chocolate bar.

"You're too kind. Thank you so much."

Leïla turned her attention back to her tray but the flight attendant leaned into their row. "Can I get you anything else? A soda, wine, a magazine?"

"Oh, no. I'm alright. Thank you though."

"Well, bon appetit!" he said, his eyes locked on her. "And please, should you need anything, you know where to find me."

When the flight attendant was gone, Edward shook his head. "Does this happen often to you?" he asked.

"What? You mean the allergy thing or..."

"No. Flight attendants flirting with you."

A wrinkle appeared on Leïla' forehead as she puzzled this out. "Noooo, he was not," she said, taking a bite of her sandwich.

"Oh, trust me. He was."

Edward realised he sounded like a jealous boyfriend. Something he hadn't experienced much in the past. He knew it was ridiculous – he was not her boyfriend and for God's sake, he just met the girl. But when her head had slumped onto his shoulders earlier, the low hum of the plane's engines enveloping them, he couldn't help but wish that moment to last forever.

He had even allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to be her boyfriend. Just for a second before the extent of the geographical distance separating them came crashing down on him.

But he was young and foolish and couldn't resist the pull of her presence.

"So, tell me," Leïla said. He smiled as he turned his attention to her. "When did you catch the acting bug?"

He put down the fork he was holding and picked up the bread. "Well, my mother took me to the theatre a lot as a kid, much to my father's despair... Huh." He laughed and paused for a moment, tearing the bread into pieces. She could sense his bitterness, and her heart went out to him without even knowing the details of the story.

"I think it was always there in the background of me growing up," he went on. "And I remember I saw this production of A Midsummer Night's Dream in Shakespeare's Globe theatre in London. I was blown clean away. I was thirteen or fourteen and I thought to myself, that's what I want to do when I grow up.

"It was also the first time I understood what Shakespeare was really about and it has been my great passion ever since."

"To be or not to be," added Leïla laughing.

He nodded his head. "Exactly."

Edward lowered the table of the aisle seat next to him and placed his tray on top of it. Closing his own table, he turned towards Leïla. "There's so much wisdom and empathy in Shakespeare's plays. Although it has been written four hundred years ago, it's alive and electrifying and it can be very funny, hilariously funny."

Leïla tilted her head to one side and watched the excitement pouring out of him. His green eyes twinkled and he moved his hands as he talked. His long fingers touched her forearm once or twice as if emphasising a point.

"I know Shakespeare seems dusty and people think it belongs to a library. But I really feel it speaks to every generation, to everyone really."

He looked up at the ceiling as if searching his memory. "Conscience does make cowards of us all." He looked at her. "Isn't that great and modern and relevant today? You know the expression the world's your oyster has been coined by him, right?"

Tilting his head back against his seat, he chuckled. "I'm sorry. I tend to get carried away on this subject."

"Don't be," she said softly. And he leaned an inch or so, studying her face.

"You're so passionate about Shakespeare," added Leïla and his eyes dropped to her mouth for a second before blinking back to her eyes. "I love that. You actually convinced me to give this chap a chance."

She thought about the last time she was passionate about something to this extent and couldn't remember. Realisation stuck in her throat like a fish bone.

His hand on his pecs, he burst into laughter bringing her back to the lightness of the moment. "I really do love Shakespeare. It's kind of embarrassing."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"Sure." She rolled her eyes and shook her head slowly. Looking down at her food tray, she poured some fizzy water in her glass and held it to her lips.

"Alright, then," said Edward. "Why don't you tell me your most embarrassing secret?"