Think about the positives. I understood that I regularly turned to a negative place to protect what I held dear.
A cool thing? I’d upgraded my airfare for a bigger seat. It wasn’t that big, my body still had to scrunch to fit properly, but it was better than economy. The treatment from the in-flight staff was excellent. The interior of the plane was dark, the lights dimmed. I should be sleeping. With my head against the headrest, I stared out the window at the night sky. No amount of redirection worked. Mere seconds later, I rose from my aisle seat, waking the person in the seat beside me. The antsiness that I couldn’t shake required movement, so I began to walk the aisle of the plane again.
“You doing okay?” a flight attendant asked as I passed by the galley.
“Yeah. Can’t sleep,” I muttered.
“I can help with that.” Her smile brightened, and she pointed in a direction behind me. She guided us to a hidden set of stairs at the front of the plane. My shoulders touched each side of the small stairwell, opening to what I assumed was first class with many empty seats.
“We’ve watched you try to get comfortable. The flight crew agreed to seat you up here until it’s time to deboard, but it’s our secret. Take a seat wherever you like. We have free internet up here.” She whispered all of this quietly then winked. I nodded in appreciation, but didn’t understand the wink. “The code’s on the remote control. Do I need to bring you anything?”
I shook my head, and quietly mouthedthank you. For this flight, she’d just become my favorite person ever.
“Blankets are in the cupboard. There’s a water bottle for you. We have about nine hours left until Istanbul. Rest up.”
She left me, trotting down the stairs. I clocked the location of the restroom and chose a seat about halfway down the aisle. I stretched out in the reclining chair with the water bottle on the small table inside the mini cubicle. This was what I thought I’d paid for. I dry swallowed a Xanax from my pocket, one of a few tablets my doctor gave me for the flight. Maybe it’d kick in this time.
I turned down the brightness of the phone screen to not disrupt those around me and entered the internet code in my cell phone, feeling the anxiety slipping away. Probably because I was texting Dash in the middle of the night with zero regrets of waking him.
“What are you doing?” I typed.
Instantly, the dots on the bottom of the screen bounced away. Of course, he was awake. It baffled me how he managed to function without sleep.
“I’m with West. He’s unsettled. Why are you awake?”
Seconds later, a picture of my little guy and Dash appeared on the screen. Dash’s bed head was epic. He wore a face mask, probably due to the cold he was developing, and our baby was cradled in his arms, drinking from a bottle. Dash had no idea I knew how much time he spent with West in the middle of the night. He muted the volume on the baby monitor so he wouldn’t bother me, but the screen showed the time he spent in West’s room.
“They gave me a halfway decent seat, but I couldn’t sleep. I was walking the plane and a flight attendant took pity on me. I’m in first class now. Did you know airplanes have an upstairs?”
The dots drummed again. I waited patiently, knowing he was using one hand to type.
“Yeah. I’ve seen that before.” The dots reappeared. “I miss you already.”
Yeah. I missed him too. He held me captivated even during the difficult times.
“I miss you too,” I replied and lifted the phone to take a photo of me stretched out on the recliner. Out of nowhere, the bottom of the seat popped out, bringing my legs up. No matter the cost, I planned to always fly first class and added that to the message, attaching the photo before pushing send.
“Jealous. Looks comfortable,” Dash said. I stared at the screen, lost to the picture of Dash and West together. He and I used the same surrogate, wanting the kids to be related by blood, but my genes had marked West. He looked like me. All of our children were taller than average. The girls had bubbly personalities. They experienced a range of emotions all the time, but West was a serious little man. His brows knitted together regularly as he watched everything.
“You still there?” Dash asked.
“I am. Are you ready for trial?” I asked. His pro bono case went to trial tomorrow. I hoped the clients knew how fortunate they were to have found him. Dash was tackling an immigration case that he’d spent countless hours preparing his arguments for. He also knew how to navigate the system, calling in favors to get assigned a judge who regularly sided with the immigration laws.
“I am. It’s probably not the time, but I’m sorry about what happened. I don’t like you leaving without having everything settled between us. You’re right, our health matters.”
I snapped another photo of me grinning like a Cheshire cat. I sent the photo as my reply and counted it a second win that kept me from sayingI win.
“Is that grin because you love me beyond reason? Or the fact you won the argument?”
“Probably the second one,” I teased. “I’m ready to apologize too. I do tend to make decisions without involving you. I’d be pissed off if you did that to me. This is where you win because I do get how the kids need a treat now and then. But I want them to learn that healthy food tastes good too.” I sent the text that felt like the size of a book. Maybe the largest text I’d ever sent.
“Thank you. I agree. I should’ve approached you instead of going around your back, but talking to you can be like hitting a brick wall. People say I’m immovable but I’m a pushover compared to you.”
“We still need counseling, maybe me more than you, but you’re clinging to some resentments that I thought you were over. Maybe the same past keeps me twisted up too. IDK. We need to work it out. It’s gonna take time.”
“Deal. I really wish you’d had this epiphany six hours ago. Then I could’ve gotten a quick blow in the parking lot of the airport.”
My smile was immediate. He knew I wasn’t into PDAs. We exchanged quick pecks here and there, but it wasn’t often. We both feared how the parents of the girls’ friends perceived us.
