Getting Real

She sat in the aisle seat next to Jonathan with Roley across from them. Twice since boarding, Roley had managed to poke her across the expanse of walkway to indicate he was on to Jonathan. More than twice, Rielle had tried to give Jonathan the signal to shut up. She was flicking through the in-flight magazine for the second time when it dawned on her she had a legitimate excuse to escape and avoid having to be direct with him.

Jake was sitting alone in his row at the back of the plane. He had his eyes closed and was gripping both armrests. Rielle could tell by the tension in his hands he wasn’t asleep. She slipped into the empty aisle seat beside him and nodded her thanks to the attendant who’d found him.

It seemed like a great idea to come and check on Jake five minutes ago, but now she was here, she was unsure what to do. It was her fault he was white knuckling it. Maybe it would be smart to just sit here quietly, and after take-off go back to her seat. He might not even notice her.

“Did they boot you out of business?” he said, interrupting her reverie and any hope of sneaking away.

She smiled. “No, I’m being a good little rock diva. I came to check on you.”

He opened one eye and angled it towards her. “I’m alive and not sweating if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I can see that.”

“Since you’re concerned, it would be better for me if you’d let me tough this out alone.”

“Oh, right.” She unbuckled and stood, but an attendant signalled her sternly with a wagging finger, to sit again. “Ah, I’ll have to stay,” she said, over the sound of the engines revving.

She watched Jake grip the armrest harder. He had both eyes open now, and was breathing deeply. On impulse she put her hand over his and he flipped his palm and wrapped his fingers though hers, holding tightly.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, looking down into his lap. He was embarrassed but he wasn’t letting go.

They stayed that way, hands gripped tightly; forearms pressed together, until take-off completed, the plane levelled out and the intercom opened.

The Captain said, “Folks, we’re expecting some turbulence so we’re going to keep the fasten seat belts sign on and ask you to stay seated for a while. We’ll let you know when it’s safe to move around the cabin.”

“Figures,” said Jake through gritted teeth. He relaxed his hold on her hand, but didn’t let go. “It seems to be my lot in life to have you witness all my moments of weakness.”

“We all have moments, Jake.” He’d certainly been witness to hers. The screaming match on the broken trapeze for one and he had to know she’d been upset last night.

“I can’t imagine you’re scared of anything.”

She said, “Fear is for failures,” but the aircraft was loud, and there was a kid screaming about the end of the world somewhere close by so there was a chance he’d missed it.

“What did you say?”

She dropped her head and let go of his hand.

He tried again, twisting his head to look at her. “What did you say, Rie?”

She could lie. Invent something. She could leave, seat belt warning be damned. But it was the truth, her truth anyway. “I said fear is for failures.” She projected into the back of the seat in front, then turned to face him to make sure he got it. “I can’t afford to be frightened of anything, Jake.”

He breathed out, his eyes clouding. “Fear is how we grow, Rielle. Everyone is frightened sometimes.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s what cripples us. Just look at you.”

Jake turned his face away, but she caught his expression, no longer professionally polite. He put his finger on the recline button, and pushed his seat back to create some distance from her. His voice came out hard, short. “You should go back to your seat.”

The only sound Jake wanted to hear was the ping of the fasten seat belt sign going out, but the kid kept yelling, his head filled with aircraft noise and Rielle sat on by his side trapped by the threat of turbulence.

How apt. She was turbulence personified in her rock chick armour, with her tough mouth, harder look and her in your face attitude. He had to be wrong about the crying. Rielle Mainline’s tear ducts would’ve dried up and rusted shut long ago.

He tried to relax, closed his eyes. T

ried to will himself to sleep. But the part of him that was eased by the drug was also uninhibited enough to be spoiling for a fight. The sooner Rielle left his side, the better it would be for both of them.

But QF587 had other plans. When they hit the first pocket of turbulence, it jolted all of the passengers in their seats, shocking enough to make the wailing kid stop to draw breath. Jake pressed himself back into the seat and hugged the darkness behind his eyes, one leg bouncing a quick, continuous, nervous heel beat in the cramped leg space.

Rielle said, “Are you okay?”