Page 103 of Space Oddities

The flight attendant, just inside, who’s severing drinks to first class passengers, smiles at me. “Come on in. We’ll be taking off shortly.”

My feet stay planted. My breath comes faster.

“Sir?”

Gritting my teeth, I take one awkward Frankenstein-like step into the plane. Then another. Then another.

I managed to secure a first-class ticket, so I don’t have far to go. But even so, having to turn sideways to walk down the aisle only ratchets up my growing panic.

I pause to slide my laptop out of my bag, thinking doing work will help keep my mind off the cramped quarters, and then stuff my duffle overhead. Taking a deep breath, I finally sit, the oversized leather chair feeling child-sized.

My hand vibrates. Taking a deep breath and unclenching my fingers from the phone, I answer.

“Tell me you’re using your millions to bail Trish out of jail.” Jules’ voice can be heard across the cabin.

I let my frustration funnel through me, overriding my panic. “Sonowyou remember how to use your phone?”

“Stop having a man-fit, Kincaid. We have bigger problems.”

“Yes, problems I could’ve solvedwithoutTrish being arrested, if you hadn’t taken me off the damn list.”

The flight attendant’s smile fades at my tone as she walks past my seat to make sure everyone’s seats and tray tables are in their fully upright and locked positions. “Sir, phones need to be shut off or put in airplane mode during take-off.”

“Are you on aplane?” Jules’ pitch has me pulling the phone from my ear.

“Yes, and I’ll land in two hours and twenty-five minutes. Talk to you then.” I hang up, feeling a perverse sense of pride at finally having the last word.

Until they close the cabin door.

Fuck. I look up and down the plane, rubbing my hands on my thighs. No one else seems bothered. The man across the aisle from me puts in his ear buds.

A different flight attendant comes on the PA system, reminding everyone to not use larger electronics until after take-off.

So much for working.

I take long, slow, deep breaths through the rest of the safety speech and all through taxiing and take-off, pretending I don’t feel like the curved walls of the plane are squeezing in on me like a fist crushing a soda can.

My leg bounces a mile a minute.

“Nervous flyer?” The man across the aisle takes out one of his ear buds.

“I, uh ...” I clear my throat and sit up. “Sort of.”

He nods reassuringly. “No shame in that. I was too, once.”

Taking in the older man’s calm demeanor, I have a hard time believing him. “You were?”

“Yep. Even went into the Army thinking the wholeon landthing would work in my favor.” He snorts, running a hand through his salt and pepper crew cut. “Uncle Sam still made me jump from a plane during training.” He shakes like the memory gives him chills. “Threw up all over myself during take-off.”

My nose wrinkles at the thought, and I hope that doesn’t happen to me. “How many times did it take until you were able to jump?”

“Just that once.” He shoots me a sardonic look. “It’s the Army, son, they weren’t there to hold my hand. They just threw me out at one thousand, two hundred and fifty feet.” He claps his hands together. “Mission complete.”

Jesus. I don’t know if listening to him is helpful or detrimental. “Well, you’re flying now, so it must have cured you. Face your fears and all that.” Even I can hear the sad, hopeful note in my voice.

“That’s a bunch of hippie bullshit. All it did was air out my uniform of vomit.” He scrolls through his phone. From what I can see across the way, it looks like he’s scrolling through a list of audiobooks. “Not that it mattered much as I just threw up again once I landed.”

I swallow. “No offense, but if you were trying for a pep talk, you really missed the mark.”

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