The Convenient Wife

“I’ve never been on a plane before,” she says as her eyes follow a giant jet that’s flying over us.

“Seriously? Never?”

“Nope.” Her eyes stay on the sky, watching the plane as it flies off through a cluster of clouds and disappears.

“Well, let’s go pop your cherry then.” Chuckling, I wink and grab her hand.

Starla is close to my side and I can hear her breathing. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, her skin is pale and clammy. I half expect her to take off in the other direction, abandoning the whole getaway all together.

“Is it scary?” she finally asks, her eyes searching for an honest answer.

“No, you’ll be fine.” Lifting her hand to my lips, I give it a kiss. “I promise.”

That kiss wasn’t for show, it wasn’t for other people to see, that kiss was just for her. I don’t want her to be afraid, and I don’t ever want her to be afraid when she’s with me. No matter where we go or what we do, Starla will always be safe as long as I’m around.

Her fingers tighten around mine, and mixed within her grip, I feel that she knows; she knows she can trust me. She knows that despite what brought us here, I wouldn’t put her in harm’s way. She knows that I’m an honest man.

Are you really honest? Shaking off the self-induced reflection of character, I walk forward.

We move through the airport, checking our bags and finding our terminal. I can tell she’s still super nervous, because she keeps rubbing her hands on her thighs and she doesn’t have much to say.

I’m trying to make conversation and keep her mind off getting in the air for the first time, but she’s not really into it. Her answers are flat, with one or two words. She won’t look at me, her eyes are fixed on the big windows that look out into the airfield.

A man’s voice crackles through the speaker, giving directions for how to board. Starla listens intensely, twisting her head so her ear is facing the speaker. Keeping her eyes on the ground, she’s nodding lightly as if she’s taking note of every word he says.

“You ready?” I ask, standing up and taking out our tickets.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I think you’re going to love this. I really do.”

Starla forces a smile as she stands, letting out a long breath. “I hope you’re right.”

Our row gets called, so I pass her a ticket. “Okay, that’s us.”

The walk down the jet bridge never made me nervous before, but right now, all I can feel is this intense burning in my chest. I’m worried she’s going to hate the plane. I’m terrified that we’re going to hit turbulence and she’s going to freak out.

I’m afraid she’ll call me a liar and never trust me again if she hates the flight.

Who cares what she thinks? It doesn’t matter. What she says or thinks about you doesn’t matter at all. You only need her help for a little bit.

Finding our seats, I point to the big leather window seat at my side. “This is us, why don’t you have the window.”

“Here?” She says it so innocently as her fingers touch the soft material.

All I do is smile.

She’s not used to this level of sophistication, to having expensive things, to being able to experience what the world really has to offer.

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who want, and those who need.

I’m a want man. I want things, so I take them. Nothing is out of my reach, anything and everything is right there for me to take for myself. I have no limits.

Those that need are the ones who work long, disgusting hours, who sweat and give everything just to have that used car, to rent that tiny apartment, to go on vacation one state over. Those people are never happy, always willing to do more, because they need better things.

And then there’s Starla.

A girl who’s happy wearing secondhand clothes from the thrift store. I can see the threads on her sneakers splitting away from the sole, and that she has two different shoelaces to tie them up with. She doesn’t eat expensive food, she’s perfectly happy grabbing a burger from a fast food joint.

Her bag says Coach on the label, but the zipper is plastic and the design is crooked. It’s a knockoff. She has low end makeup in her bag, and a cell phone they haven’t made in years. Starla wouldn’t get something new just because it’s available. She buys cheap, she uses cheap, and she doesn’t give two shits about what other people think.

She’s a girl who thinks it’s okay to have mediocre things in a world where she should stand out. As long as I’m around, Starla is going to feel special, she’s going to finally have a taste of the good life.