Tangled Dreams

CHAPTER 2: A FAMILY NURTURED WITH LOVE (Part 3) | Athirah Mansor

After the plane had taken off and was cruising at the specified flight altitude, the captain switched off the "Fasten Your Seatbelt" sign. The sound of seatbelts being released was soon heard. Click! Click! Click! Some passengers got up to go the lavatories. Others got up to stretch their legs. My crew was busy again with their duties.

The food trolleys were pushed through the narrow aisles between rows of passenger seats as meals were served to the passengers. Priority was given to those who had indicated special dietary requirements. The aroma of food and hot beverages that filled the entire cabin reminded me of canteen food at school. I never knew why, but I found the smell of such a blend of odours quite disagreeable. As usual, after ensuring that everything was running smoothly, I disappeared into the first-class cabin.

"Is everything OK?" I asked Khalid at the galley that was located some distance away from the passengers. I lowered my voice so that the sole VIP passenger would not be disturbed.

"Of course. This is me, OK? I have worked this cabin for two years. I'm an expert!" Khalid praised himself. I signalled for him to lower his voice. Khalid whispered, "He's asleep."

"Regardless of whether he's asleep or not, we should behave professionally. Our voices must be lowered so we don't disturb the passengers who are resting. Surely I don't need to tell you that, O VIP expert!" I ribbed him. He stifled his laughter. I smiled as I looked at him.

Khalid was my junior. We had known each other since secondary school days, back when my family was still based in Malaysia. I was three years older than him. Khalid had been under my supervision when I was head prefect at school. Similarly, he had been under me when I led the athletics team at state level competitions. However, we lost contact after I left school. Six years later, Khalid appeared in the meeting room for his first briefing as a flight attendant. I was the crew leader that day.

Khalid had been delighted to see me again. He had shared all sorts of tales about his life with me. Not that I had really wanted to know. Nevertheless, Khalid openly and unreservedly continued to share stories about his family and friends. Occasionally, the stories were hilarious, so I put up with his narratives. I had thought that I would only need to tolerate him once because the chances of us being assigned to the same flight were remote, but my guess was way off the mark. Khalid had figured out the criteria that I had selected to schedule my flight assignments and he had indicated just the same – flights not exceeding 20 hours, three flights per week, only international flights, etc. Thereby, his work schedule often coincided with mine and we were often assigned to the same flight; at the very least once a month.

"It's time for meals to be served, right?" Khalid pointed in the direction of the economy class cabin. He reached for a sandwich on a plate and nibbled at it, then slowly sipped some hot coffee.

"You already knew the answer, so why ask?" I reached for a bottle of mineral water from a rack above and took a gulp to quench my thirst. I hated that Khalid knew my weaknesses. Every time the food trolley was rolled out with the variety of meals, I would disappear into the first-class flight cabin. I could not stand the mix of aromas that filled the cabin air, making me feel nauseous. The effect was not as pronounced here because there were fewer passengers.

"I don't understand. You're a rich man's kid. You only need to ask for something, and you'll get it. So why would you want a job like this?" asked Khalid. It was the same question every time. Didn't he get tired of asking it just as I was tired of repeatedly giving him the same answer?

"This is my ambition," I answered curtly. It was the same old answer. I reached for a sandwich and bit into it.

"Your ambition? Your father offered you the position of General Manager, but you refused, wanting to be a flight attendant. Hardly a prestigious job! Is there something wrong with that brain of yours?" he shot back with a gibe. I could only laugh. Like a needle stuck on a record, this banter was repeated every time we were on board an aircraft.

"That's his dream. This is mine. My parents have no problem with my choice. As long as I'm happy and make a living legally, they have nothing against what I do," I lied.

In reality, each time I met my parents in London, my father would ask me to join him. He said that he was old and wanted to retire. He expressly wished for me to take over his rapidly expanding business empire.