Page 138 of Love Unavoidable
Chapter 38
Ethan
It takes forty-five minutes for the fog to clear enough for us to take-off, so, we only end up being about an hour behind schedule. I end up in a middle seat since I bought my ticket at the last minute. I’m stuck in between a teen with earbuds listening to music so loud I can hear it over the sound of the engines and an older woman with a large quilt she is knitting. Actively knitting, so that each time she slips or loops or whatever it is that she is mumbling under her breath, she knocks her elbow into my cast, jarring it. The first few times she apologizes, but after a while she stops.
I close my eyes and try deep breathing, willing my body to relax. My arm throbs, it hurts to move, and I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. Relaxing is impossible.What the hell was I thinking, jumping on a plane to travel thirteen hundred miles the day after I fall two stories?I ring for the flight attendant and ask for some aspirin or ibuprofen. Mine is in my backpack, which is in the baggage hold above my seat, and I don’t feel like disrupting everything to get it.
“Well, hello there, what can I get you?” The attendant asks, the same one I spoke to at the gate when we were waiting for the fog to clear.
“Some ibuprofen or aspirin if you have it?” I raise my cast slightly, so she can see it, and motion my eyes back toward the woman knitting, her elbows popping up and over at short intervals.
“I’ll be right back,” she says with a wink.
I close my eyes and wait. Death metal to my left, elbow bumping to my right.
It will all be worth it once you reach Sadie.
The attendant comes back and tells me she has something that may help if I’d like to follow her. I unbuckle my seatbelt, claw my way over the teen in the aisle seat, trying not to knock anyone in the head with my cast, and let her lead the way.
Down the aisle to . . .
Score!
An aisle seat in business class. Where she hands me a bottle of water and a small package of ibuprofen.
“You are an angel, thank you,” I tell her with a grateful smile.
“Anything for love,” she says.
I take the pills, chug the water, settle in my new seat, and breathe a huge sigh of relief. My arms rest comfortably on either side of me, no music echoing, no knitting elbows, just me.
And my thoughts.
Fuck.
Why am I doing this again?
For love, you heard the lady.
I should have brought a book or my tablet. At the very least my ear buds so I could listen to music. I did not bring anything to take my mind off the fact that once I land, I have to find Sadie. And once that happens, I will admit how I feel. And oncethathappens, shit either works out or I go home alone.
I drum the fingers of my left hand on my thigh, grab the SkyMall magazine and flip through it, watch the virtual plane travel the dotted path on the headrest screen, read the safety brochure, check the time—seven minutes have passed. It’s another two-and-a-half hours before we get there. I look around at my fellow passengers who all seem content to be in limbo right now. The young woman to my left watches a movie on the headrest screen. She looks about twelve, straight blond hair pulled into a low ponytail, Spiderman t-shirt, black leggings, jean jacket, and Converse hi-top shoes.
I tap her shoulder, awkwardly since she’s on my left and I’m using my left hand, to get her attention. She hits pause on her movie, pulls her headphones away from her ears and looks at me, big blue eyes not altogether friendly.
“Sorry to bother you, but how did you get the movie?”
She reaches across and punches a few buttons on my screen until a movie menu shows up.
“Thank you,” I tell her as I scroll through the selections. Action, comedy, horror, drama, finally deciding on one of theCaptain Americamovies and pressing play.
The opening credits flash by. I tap the shoulder of my young seat-mate once again. She goes through the same ministrations as before.
“Sorry, do you know if they have headphones? For sound?”
She reaches into the seat pocket in front of me and pulls a new pair of headphones out, still wrapped in plastic, and moves to hand them to me. She looks at me, my cast, then back at the headphones, opens the package, plugs the receptor into the armrest between us and hands the ready headphones to me.
“Thank you,” I say. She rolls her eyes and resumes her own movie. I feel like an idiot. One, for not being a savvier traveler and getting schooled by a tween. Two, for falling through the roof and breaking my arm. And possibly even three, for flying over a thousand miles to try and convince a woman to want me
