Nebula

chapter two//arabian nights

SULLIVAN;

 

I popped some gum in my mouth as the engine of the plane whirled louder and louder. My fingers reflexively curled around the leather arms of my seat. After years of flying, my body still couldn’t get used to it.

The fuck was that? A dog? Pretty sure that was a dog outside.

I was probably just imagining things.

Ah, yes, back to the actual thing that was happening.

The plane was taking off, so I chewed faster to overshadow the numbing pain I could feel in my ears. It definitely wasn’t helping. I popped another piece of gum in.

“So, New York?” Seamus asked. I writhed in pain – my ears were killing me.

“What do you think father will be doing in New York?” he tried again.

That bastard. He knew about my ears.

I flipped him off.

The middle-aged flight attendant gave me a glare. I mentally flipped her off too.

I begged father to let me take the train, the car, the bus, the ship, the bike, the anything, just not the plane. He wouldn’t have it. Father always insisted that we travel together.

I clicked on the display mounted into the back of the seat that was in front of me and opened the map that showed our progress. It helped me get through this faster.

I asked Seamus to pass me the newspaper. On the second page I saw an article about us. I nudged Seamus.

“Oh my god,” I said. “Look at your face.”

Seamus turned as red as a beet. I started laughing. This was coming along better than I thought.

I pulled a pen from my front pocket, took the cap off with my mouth and drew horns on Seamus’s head.

The picture was taken by the paparazzi a few weeks ago, when we attended one the many weddings we get invited to.

This one was different though – this one was my mother’s.

If I do say so myself, I looked great in that picture. I was wearing a dark blue suit that made my red hair pop out, my eyes were glistening, my skin looked fresh. I gave myself a mental pat on the back.

Seamus, on the other hand, was a train-wreck.

I should ask Brin to consider styling him too.

Seamus wasn’t very popular with the public because he didn’t bother to. I made sure the public knew who I was.

The other news weren’t too interesting, so I popped my Mac out of it’s bag and watched a bit of Sherlock.

What could I say? Sherlock will forever be great. I wished I could be like Sherlock.

I wasn’t smart enough though, so I just settled for watching.

The Hound of Baskerville is horrible, though. I never know when to look away from the light flashes, and my eyes end up hurting for days afterwards.

This wasn’t the main point.

Seamus defaced my face in the newspaper, then folded it and carefully placed it in the back pocket of the seat. Whoever will pick that up next and actually look through it will be hella lucky.

I continued on watching Sherlock.

The hours sped faster than lighting. Before I knew it, I felt the pop in my ears that alerted me to our landing. I popped my gum in and looked out the window.