Page 15 of The Temptation of Truth
“Right. Okay. Yes, I’m very nervous.”
“It’s okay to be nervous. Want to hold my hand? It might help.”
She turns her hand over, so it’s palm up in front of me. The offer makes my stomach flip, and on impulse I grip the armrest tighter.
“No. No, sorry, but no. That’s okay. Thanks anyway.”
She drops her hand back into her lap, and I can’t help but follow the movement. Her nails are short and painted a dark, glittery black, she has a stack of gold and silver bracelets on her wrist, and a flashy pink diamond ring on her middle finger.
I bet her hand is soft. It looks like it is. I wonder if she has calluses like Sav. Surely, she would. She holds drumsticks for a living, and even though I know she wears fingerless gloves, the pressure from banging on the drums would still take a toll on her smooth, golden skin.
“I like your plant.”
Mabel’s voice startles me, and my eyes jump back to hers.
“What? I’m sorry. What?”
I can feel my cheeks heating once more. When the corners of her lips twitch, I glance away so I don’t stare at them again.
“I said I like your plant. Orchid, right?”
I look at the planter in my arms and nod. I’ve barely let go of it since I left home.
“Phalaenopsis,” I clarify, and then I wince. “Sorry, I mean yes. It’s an orchid. A moth orchid. Phalaenopsis is the scientific genus. I always forget not everyone knows those.” I laugh lightly at myself and run my finger over the smooth edge of the ceramic planter. “The family is Orchidaceae. It’s one of the largest families of flowering plants. Over twenty-five thousand species, actually. That’s through eight hundred or so genera—that’s plural for genus—but this one, Phalaenopsis, is probably the most well-known. This particular plant is resting, but I’m?—”
The jet picks up speed, stealing my words with my breath. I look quickly out the window, then shut my eyes once I see the world whooshing past in a blur.
“Oh, God.”
“Breathe through it. It will be over fast.”
“Think of England?” I say, forcing a joke to keep from doing what I want to do, which is whimper and squeak with every rotation of the wheels. And though I’m barely maintaining composure, Mabel’s answering laugh gives me a small chill, anchoring me to the moment before I spiral into a full-blown meltdown.
“Exactly. Close your eyes and think of England.”
I give her a small smile, but then the plane shakes violently, and my whole face scrunches into what I’m sure is a very unattractive expression of terror. Panic claws at my throat, and I reach desperately for Mabel, grabbing onto her forearm and holding tightly. She covers my hand with hers and speaks, her voice softer and closer than before.
“This is normal. It’s the jet taking off and the wheels retracting. It’s almost over.”
“Are you sure?”
“Foundation of truth, remember? Only honesty here.”
I jerk out a nod and try to focus on her thumb rubbing back and forth on my wrist. On her forearm under my palm. I knew she’d be soft. Soft and warm. Mentally, I zero in on each point of contact. I can feel the pads of her fingers—index, middle, ring, pinky—and the way they curve atop mine. The comforting weight of her touch.
I force a swallow and breathe until the jet has leveled out and the cabin no longer shakes.
“It’s over now. When you’re ready, it’s safe to open your eyes.”
I peek through my lashes until I’m brave enough to open my eyes fully, and then I turn my head toward Mabel.
“Sorry.”
“What for?”
“Um...freaking out, I guess? Making you have to, um,be here.”
She smiles curiously and scans my face, eyebrows slanting just slightly. “Babe, you don’t have to keep apologizing. Not for this, and not for anything else.”
