And I didn’t know that was what I was so afraid of. I didn’t know that that was the source of my rage and my tension and my fear. But I can’t deny it. I can’t pretend they’re wrong. And I can’t have them not knowing I feel them.
“We never left you,” they add as I continue to look up at them, noticing Jupiter shining brightly.
“Thank you,” I say to the stars, and with blurry eyes, I touch the paint to the canvas.
SAGITTARIUS SEASON
“Sometimes the things we thought we would never have to change eventually need to be reassessed and recalibrated for your greater self. Be open to releasing things that don’t align with your present self.”
Chapter Seventeen
Maeve
“Come on, come on, come on,” I say through a closed mouth. “Close the fucking door.”
I’m sitting next to the window in a thus far otherwise empty row of seats. If they close that door, I can relax knowing I’ve got the whole row to myself, which I sorely need. I’ve already done one flight this morning where I was squished up next to some man-spreading suit who didn’t understand the concept of personal space, and now I have to wait to find out if I’m going to be dealt the same fate on this final flight from Heathrow to Las Vegas. Studiously watching the cabin crew to see if any of them go to close the door, I am practically holding my breath.
“Hi!” a voice says and brings my gaze to the end of the row. A woman of a similar age to myself with a full face of heavily contoured make-up and what looks like designer brandsportswear is dumping several bags into the middle seat beside me. “I sat on the wrong bloody seat, didn’t I?” she says in a clipped South England accent, Kent or Essex perhaps. “I’ll move all my shit in a minute, just got to get my bag up there without breaking a nail.”
I should offer to help, I think. It would be the decent thing to do. But I find myself sitting still and doing little more than mustering up a half-hearted smile for my new companion.
Quickly, I pull my phone out and decide to avoid her eye contact and further conversation by replying to some emails.
“Oh my God, it’s you, innit?” the woman’s voice says a few moments later. I turn to see her sitting in her seat by the aisle, her many bags still in the seat between us.
It’s fine, Maeve,I tell myself.It’s not a big deal. You don’t need that seat. You’ll pop a pill in a minute, drink a glass of red wine and you’ll be asleep in no time.
“You’re that girl off TikTok!” the woman continues. “May something.”
My next smile is even more difficult to reproduce. “Yeah, hi,” I say, keeping my voice low in the hope that she will do the same.
I used to love being recognised. Years ago, it felt like a sign that I’d made it. That these people who rushed up to me, phones ready to take a photo, or others who were more shy and awkward about it, were all validation that I was on the right path. But then it would happen more and more, and it would interrupt shopping dates with Ma, park walks with Jenna and her dogs, or dinner catch-ups with Arabella, and I’d find it so hard to turn on my smile and share the same old, same old small talk.
I hated how grumpy that made me feel, to begrudge these people who had effectively made me the success they deemed me to be. They didn’t deserve my shitty attitude. And God forbid they revealed it to the rest of the world.
So I do what I always do, and I grit my teeth and smile again, this time with as much energy as I can find.
“MaeBae is my handle,” I say.
“That’s it! You’re Irish, right?” she says.
“I am indeed.” I nod.
“Is Mae your real name?”
I think on this for the briefest moment before replying. “It is.”
“Cool. I’m Lauren,” she extends her hand my way and I reluctantly shake it. “I love your TikToks. All the beauty stuff you share, and your clothes,” she says and gives my body a once-over with her eyes. “I mean, look at you even now.”
I glance down at my skinny black jeans, ankle boots and oversized cream knit sweater that hangs off one shoulder.
“And your hair,” Lauren says. “How do you get it to look like that all the time?”
“You pay a very talented Brazilian hair stylist called Fernando far too much money, that’s how,” I reply honestly.
That has her bursting into laughter. “That must be why I follow you. You’re funny.”
“I’m also about to be very blunt.” I point at her bags. “Any chance you can move them? Then we can lift the armrests up after take-off and both have a bit more space.”
