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“My stomach is churning,” I complain, leaning against him. “All I’ve eaten today was a croissant and cotton candy!”
“You bad girl!” he jokes. “Want me to call the flight attendant and see if they have any medicine?”
I shake my head, softly smiling to politely decline his offer. “Maybe some ginger ale?” I suggest.
He presses the button overhead to call the attendant, and in a moment the lady arrives, polite and kind.
“How can I help you sir?” she asks, leaning forward with interest.
“Bring some ginger ale for Elsa here, and…” he thinks for a second. “Some orange juice for me please.”
“I’ll be back in a minute!” the flight attendant says and walks away.
He asks, “So how did your therapy session go earlier today?”
I reply, grateful for the distraction, “Good! I’m feeling more and more confident. Also, I’ve applied to join a local community theater group to get back in the game.”
“That’s incredible. I’m so proud of you,” he says, caressing my hand.
I giggle nervously. “I still can’t believe I’m here going to California with you!”
He smiles widely, “Me too! I’m so happy you are here and that you are moving forward with your acting career.”
I lean forward to take deeper breaths when the nausea hits again and I feel Harvey gently rub my back.
Luckily the attendant arrives carrying a cart with our drinks, and I take mine gladly, as my stomach is screaming for help.
“Whoa! It’s not going to run away from you!” Harvey says as he watches me down half of the ginger ale in a single gulp.
“My stomach fills like a washing machine.”
“You should eat something! Put some salt in you!”
“Ha, why does this feel like something your mother says?” I ask him, amused.
“Because it is!” He laughs, but then turns to me full of concern. “Elsa, are you sure you’re okay?”
“Um,” I frown. “Not really, why?”
“Because you’re paper white!” He presses the button again, but I stand and ask him to move so I can get out.
“I’ll go to the bathroom. I think I’m going to barf,” I say.
“Then use the bag!” Harvey says and grabs it just in time.
Some turbulence hits the plane, and my stomach turns inside out. I put my hands on my knees, and vomit straight into the bag Harvey holds out.
Before I know, I black out.
I wake up in Harvey’s arms, with a cup of water shoved into my face. I sit, reach for the cup, and ask, my voice sounding muffled, “How long was I out?”
“Just a few seconds,” Harvey laughs nervously. “How are you feeling?”
“A little better, I think,” I say, leaning back in my seat.
“Parker?” I see my brother standing in front of me, His seat is a few rows ahead so he must have walked over.
“Are you okay?” Parker asks, concerned.
