Bonnie & Claudia

The not-dead-lady

60 hours remaining.

"I hate that sound." Claudia heard Bonnie say from the window seat. She turned her head, watching Bonnie scrunch her face together and pop some peanuts into her mouth. Claudia hoped her confusion spoke through her silence.

Bonnie waved a hand in front of her, mouth full. "You know, that terrible buzzing in the background? This is why I prefer boats."

They were halfway into their plane trip, situated in a three-seater separated by a tiny, grey-haired lady. She had been asleep the whole time after guzzling two glasses of champers and a couple of pills. Bonnie had poked her after a while to see if she was still breathing.

Anxiety riddled Claudia's chest like fungus, causing her to tap her knees and drum her fingers against her arm rests. You're not the only one who doesn't like planes.

Desperate to focus on something else, Claudia found herself talking about her kids. She wasn't sure why, but she just opened her mouth and poured out an avalanche worth of personal parenting anecdotes.

"...Junior got voted 'Most likely to be smart' by his classmates in first grade, which paved the way to his obsession with being seen as a genius. He works so hard, reading and studying and learning, soaking up knowledge like a sponge..."

"...two months ago, I get home to Henry freaking out. Apparently Heather had gotten hold of one of Jessica's legos and swallowed it. We rushed her to the ER as she screamed the roof off, just to be told to check her poop for its reappearance over the next couple of days..."

"...And then Jessica tackled this kid out of the way. Like full on, hooking her arms around her waist with all her might, throwing her to the ground."

"I thought Netball was a no-contact sport?" Bonnie asked, enraptured, chin resting on her fist.

"It is. I marched her straight from the netball courts to the martial arts dojo." Claudia laughed, genuinely laughed, thinking back to the memory fondly. She could see the sparkle in Bonnie's eyes, the mischievous twinkle that read: 'just like you and me.'

"Why'd you call him Junior? Sort of generic." Bonnie commented and Claudia shook her head.

"Henry. Says it is tradition for his name to be carried down, just like for generations before him. So Junior is called Junior, and his son will be called Henry." Claudia laughed at how confusing and ridiculous it was. "I got to choose Jessica, Jessica Bronwyn Stevens, which made-"

Claudia paused at the look of shock that crossed over Bonnie's face.

"You... you named her after me?" Bonnie breathed, voice hoarse. Claudia's cheeks turned red and she stumbled over her words.

"Yeah, ah yeah. Even after what happened, you were always my best friend." Claudia cleared her throat, aware of Bonnie's emotion-fuelled gaze on her like a spotlight. Bonnie smiled shyly.

"Can I see 'em?" She asked. Glad for the change in topic, Claudia pulled out her phone and leaned over the not-dead-lady, flicking through hundreds of photos of Junior, Jessica and Heather.

"Aww!" Bonnie cooed, the strangest flicker of longing passing over her face. And in that second, Claudia forgot about their situation, about the ransom, focusing only on the woman before her, a friend.

"You could have had this too, you know." She whispered gently, placing her fingers on Bonnie's hand lightly. Bonnie looked at their hands and then at Claudia. "It's not too late. You could still find someone, settle down..."

Bonnie sighed, features constructed with inexplicable sadness. "No, it is too late." She whispered back.

Then she straightened up and pasted a radiating grin across her face. "Besides, a pirates life for me!" She cackled. Claudia watched her pitifully.