Her eyes flare slightly at the words, almost like I’ve hit a nerve.
“Have you seen Mom and Dad lately?” I change the subject, and the question earns me an eye roll. I laugh, reminded of a younger Rory, one that had sass for days.
“Oh, they’re Mom and Dad. I see them once a week for dinner becausewe’re family…” She adds air quotes and lowers her voice to mimic our dad. “Never mind the fact that they’ve been divorced for twelve years. I’m still required to sit in awkward silence with them both until they ask me once again about my love life, when I’ll be bringing Jamie around, how Jamie is doing.” She shrugs dramatically. “Or they ask about work, but only to insinuate that I could do so much more if I just put my journalism degree to work. My love life or work, those are our two topics of conversation. They’re exhausting.”
“I’m sorry, Rory.” There’s not much else I can say. I haven’t lived under their thumb for sixteen years, and I was glad to escape it when I did. Rory has always been there, close enough for them to try to control or manipulate. I’ve often wondered why she didn’t leave like I did. “At the risk of sounding like Mom and Dad, how is Jamie?”
Jamie is Rory’s best friend. They’ve been inseparable for years. Much like our parents, I keep waiting for the day she tells me they’re together, but she swears it’s only friendship between them, that she’s never wanted him like that. I think back to Breck commenting on my friendship with Joss.Oh the irony.
“He’s great. He’s on his way over here to watch a movie actually, so I should probably go. I just wanted to call and yell at you for jumping out of a plane.”
“You didn’t yell at me.”
“Yeah, your scared puppy face when you answered took the edge off. Plus, I’d rather just tell you that I think you’re brave and that I love you. I’m here if you need me, okay?”
“Thanks, Roars. Have a good night. Tell Jamie hello from me.”
She waves a hand at the screen. “Night, Wessy.”
I want to roll my eyes at her nickname for me, but it’s what she’s called me since she was little, and I’d let her call me just about anything. I wish I could’ve brought her here with me; she could use an adventure. As far as I know, Tahoe is what she wants. Her whole life is there, but if she ever wanted something different, I would move heaven and earth to help her, just like she’s done for me.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Joss
I’m shaken awake by some aggressive turbulence. Feeling like I only just fell asleep, my heart is racing a million miles a minute. I’m in the crew space where we take turns getting some shuteye on these transcontinental flights. The curtain hangs closed, but it sways with the movement of the plane. There was nothing but clear skies ahead when I climbed in here, so the fact it’s bumpy as hell is startling.
My watch tells me I’ve been asleep for about an hour. Time flies when you’re having fun, right?
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I don’t get up just yet, taking deep breaths to calm my body out of fight or flight mode. It’s feeling gentler than it did a minute ago. Maybe I could fall back to sleep?
Or not.
A swish of fabric is the only warning before Sydney appears at my feet. And yes, she’s from Sydney. Her parents must’ve thought they were real funny. “Hey, we’ve got about two hours until we land. We need all hands on deck to get the food served.”
I suck in a deep inhale, wishing she’d take her lovely perky smile and go away. Somehow she still looks as fresh as she did when we took off from London this morning. I, however, feel like a wadded-up tissue. I groan again and sit up, giving her a thumbs-up as she closes the drape and leaves me in peace.
I’ve felt off this whole trip. What if I’m getting sick?
Nope, nope, nope. Don’t even let those thoughts into your head, Joss.
I cannot get sick. I do not have time to get sick. Ever. It’s something I simply don’t do. I know the other flight attendants are waiting on me, but I need five more minutes to feel human. That way I can put my best foot forward when I step out there to take care of the 200-plus people under our care.
I close my eyes and think about surfing, grounding myself in all five of my senses as I imagine my happy place. The sound of the waves hitting the shore. The feel of the water against my legs as I circle them under my board. The taste of the saltwater on my lips as it drips from my wet hair. The air, salty and clean. In my mind’s eye, it’s Wes I see sitting next to me, a soft grin on his face, dimples peeking through the stubble on his cheeks.
My heart rate slows, my thoughts resting on the last several weeks. On the mornings Wes and I (and sometimes Breck) have surfed. We’ve fallen into a steady rhythm—well, as steady as it can be with my constantly being out of the country. Since deciding to be more open to letting people in, I’m amazed at how much morefulfilling my mornings are. It’s kind of like when you don’t know you need glasses. When you finally bite the bullet and can see the world in its entirety, you realize how much you were missing.
I was content with my life a month ago. I loved my job and Jaz, but there was something missing. A hole I’ve never been able to fill that feels a little less empty these days. Somehow, in just a few short weeks, the companionship I’m slipping into with Wes feels as easy as breathing. He’s my glasses, showing me how much more there is in the world. Getting back to that feeling has been what’s kept me going on this trip.
Jaz, Wes, and I have plans for dinner tonight so that they can get to know each other beyond Harbour Grounds. Though, I’m wondering if we should have opted to do it tomorrow—I’m already knackered. Taking one more deep breath, I climb out to go help my coworkers.
The next couple of hours are a total crush, as is often the case with these long flights—everything happening at the beginning and the end, with a lot of downtime in the middle. It’s a blur of food service, drink service, clean up, and deplaning. But now that the passengers are gone and we’ve moved on to general turnover, I can feel the adrenaline wearing off and new sensations replacing it.
Why does the AC feel like it’s blasting? But also, why am I sweating? I want to crawl out of my skin. The synthetic fibers of my uniform scraping against it feel almost painful, there’s a pounding rhythm in my brain, and the lights are too bright.
“You okay, Joss?” Sydney asks from the back of the plane.
“Yeah, just tired I think,” I mumble, trying to steady myself.
