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“Yes?”
“Can I offer you something to drink?” she asked. “We have a selection of fresh juices.”
“Anything alcoholic?” I asked.
She smiled. “Of course,” she nodded. “We have a lovely selection of reds and whites.”
“Nothing harder?”
I saw one perfectly plucked eyebrow rise slightly. “What would you like, ma’am?”
“Bourbon,” I said instinctively, making the choice that Tristan would have made in my position.
The airhostess smiled and nodded. “And for you, ma’am?” she asked, looking towards the older woman sitting next to me.
“Orange juice,” the woman replied. “With a splash of rum.”
“Of course,” the airhostess nodded, before moving on down the aisle.
The older woman looked at me with interest. “Bourbon, huh?”
She looked a little like my grandmother—big, cuddly, and comforting. But unlike my grandmother, this woman looked hip and fashionable. She was wearing white linen pants and a matching white blouse with a pattern of seashells along the neckline. She was wearing chunky statement pieces around her neck and ears, and her silver hair was cut short.
“Yes,” I nodded shortly.
“That’s a hard drink to have on a flight,” she continued, in a strong Southern accent.
I just smiled politely and refused to engage.
“But when I look at your face, I suppose I understand the need,” the woman continued.
I looked at her with a small frown, unable to ignore that last comment. “What do you mean?”
“You look sad, honey,” she said, with a sympathetic smile. “I assume the bourbon is to…nurse that sadness?”
“I just… I’m sad to be leaving,” I sighed.
The woman raised one eyebrow at me. “But that’s not all you’re sad about?”
I smiled and looked at her pointedly.
“I’m sorry,” she said, with a laugh. “I know I’m being nosy…my children accuse me of the same thing. It just seems like such a waste.”
“What does?” I asked curiously, knowing I was getting drawn into a conversation despite my best efforts.
The wflight attendant approached and set down our drinks. The moment she was gone again, the older lady turned back to me. “Your generation,” she said. “You’re all so young, and you have your whole lives ahead of you…and still you waste your time being sad about everything. What I wouldn’t give to be in my twenties and thirties again.”
I smiled, and then I extended my hand out to her. “I’m Molly,” I introduced.
“It’s nice to meet you, Molly,” she replied. “I’m Meryl. Now that we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way, would you mind telling me why you’re so sad?”
“I… I had this really great job,” I admitted.
“In Hawaii?” she asked.
“Yup.”
“Wow, that does sound like a great job.”
