Robyn missed her jumper. She'd packed it in the overhead compartment, foolishly, thinking it unnecessary. Montreal had been warm so surely the rest of the world would be, too. But, in the recycled air of this cruising Airbus, she wasn't far off shivering.
Of course, the option existed to fetch it -- but, being at the window seat, she'd have to disturb the two people to her right. The nearest, a young Chinese girl about her age, with black bangs and round glasses and skin like porcelain, dressed in dark jeans and a stripy white-maroon top, was reading on her tablet, lost in the digitised words, and the other was old, bald, and asleep. There were only, what, three, maybe four more hours before they'd reach Stansted? Robyn could bear to shiver that long.
It was getting dark outside -- the sky furthest away, southwards, looked as if it had been set on fire. Below, nothing but a dark blanket of clouds, beneath which hid the boundless Atlantic. And here Robyn was, above it all, thirty-seven thousand feet and soaring at a speed beyond what any human ought to achieve. How seamless it felt. How cramped her legs were. She fidgeted relentlessly, all through the flight, and really hoped the girl next to her didn't mind. It didn't seem to bother her -- she'd been absorbed in her tablet since take-off, tapping intermittently to summon the next page of whatever endless tome she was reading. Robyn had also noticed, about an hour in, that she could have been singing the Macarena and might have disturbed every passenger and irritated flight attendant but still wouldn't disrupt the girl beside her -- because, curling over the outside of her ear, was a bright blue hearing aid, turning to a wire which snaked into her ear itself. Robyn didn't know how much her neighbour could hear but she was grateful that, were she to sneeze or cough or shit herself from the dog food which British Airways called chicken korma, she wouldn't have to feel any guilt.
It grew dark enough that, eventually, the cabin lights dimmed. Most of the heads which Robyn could see over the seats were lolling or resting. She and her neighbour and the occasional patrolling flight attendant seemed the only people left awake as they floated through heaven. Robyn tried, several times, to sleep herself, but wasn't tired. Once, it had been impossible to fly because of how much it scared the hell out of her. Many, many flights later, and it all became second nature -- but, this time, she couldn't sleep because of her anxieties about what waited for her on the ground, not up here in the Earth's thin aether. Max, she was more certain with each passing minute, had dumped her while she was up here, and upon landing the confirmatory text would pop up on her phone. The trip had been a failure from start to finish -- she'd arrived at his apartment in the Alexis Nihon Complex completely unannounced, surprising him, thinking it a romantic moment for his birthday, which happened to fall also on their sixth anniversary. His face when he opened the door to see her told her what a mistake it had been. Two weeks of uncomfortable silences and awkward meals followed. All that money... all that time... all that love... gone to waste. Robyn sniffed, wiping at a tear which hadn't even come, wondering what she'd do when she got home. Just what in the hell would she do? Go back to work? Carry on as normal? There was no happiness to be found in normal.
Robyn sighed, head moving this way and that, trying to get comfortable in far too little space, unable to bat away the worry. Her neighbour was tapping on her tablet far too loudly -- but she'd feel like a dick if she got annoyed at that but not the roar of the turbofans just outside. They were probably disturbing her to a far greater degree. Then, as she turned her head towards the girl, again trying to get comfortable, she happened to glance at the text of her book.
"...Patrick's cock yearned for her," it read. "It slid into her so easily, her wetness so inviting, so welcoming, that he couldn't believe he'd waited so long to fuck her." Robyn looked away, a stupid grin erupting on her face, staring again out of the window and trying her hardest not to laugh. There was still a chance that the girl would hear her. After all, the whole point of hearing aids is to make you hear. Naturally, being who she was, she couldn't help but look again. When she did, it was to realise that the whole book seemed to be nothing but this. There was no plot. No characterisation. Just relentless, rather grim shagging, the woman involved clearly enjoying being used as a ragdoll -- and this cute little thing was busily reading it with an emotionless expression on her face. Then, to her horror, she looked at Robyn.
Their eyes met -- and Robyn, instinctively, looked away, back out of the window. As her head turned, in her periphery she saw the light of the girl's tablet die. She closed it, left it on her lap, and said nothing. For a long time, still fighting back that stubborn grin, Robyn stared at the darkening world outside. Until, of course, she looked back at the girl -- and their eyes met once more. They looked away again, the girl staring at the cabin's ceiling, her pale face rapidly shifting to an altogether pinker hue. Robyn permitted herself to smile -- the girl glanced at her, checking if she was looking, which she was, and looked away again, her eyes slamming shut. Robyn looked away and, this time, didn't look back, closing her eyes. With the moment of levity, she'd unlatched the door in her mind -- and sleep finally came through, at last.
It didn't last long.
As Robyn bumped through a fitful, dreamless slumber, so too did Flight 35 bump through growing turbulence. The whole plane shuddered, as if going through a seizure, and Robyn was knocked awake. She glanced around, half-interested, at the scene as the seatbelt signs switched on and the tannoy came to life.
"Alright, everyone," said their Geordie pilot, calm as you like, "we're just going through a patch of nasty turbulence right now. Shouldn't last too long but if everyone could keep to their seats with their seatbelts fastened that'd be grand." The plane continued to shake -- Robyn remained unbothered. On one flight to Milan, they'd passed through a lightning storm over the Alps. That had been bad. Really bad. The oxygen masks had fallen from the ceiling. It was then that her phobia of flying, strangely, vanished from her mind -- for it taught her that it takes a lot more than this altogether mild turbulence to knock a jetliner from the sky.
Her neighbour, however, was not doing so well. Her hands were scrunched up into fists, so tight her knuckles had gone ghost-white, and her eyes were slammed shut, forcing out heavy breaths through the rattling and the shaking. The plane jerked, as if it had sudden fallen a dozen feet, and one sweaty fist suddenly opened and grabbed Robyn's hand. Robin squeezed it -- the girl didn't open her eyes, so couldn't see the sympathetic look she was receiving, and so she just held her trembling hand.
"It's gonna be okay," Robyn told her, unsure if she was being heard. "I've been through way worse." She got no reply.
Soon enough, the turbulence eased, then faded altogether. The seatbelt sign switched off and, slowly, the girl let go of her hand. She glanced at Robyn, who smiled, and she smiled weakly back. Robyn looked away, back out of the window, and tried to return to the sleep which the atmosphere had so rudely denied her. Her eyes must have only been closed for a few seconds before she felt a timid tapping on her shoulder. She looked around and saw her neighbour staring at her, a shy look on her face, one hand outstretched to nudge her and the other holding her tablet. She handed it over to Robyn who, confused, slowly took it. On the screen, she saw, a blank Word document had been opened and the girl had written a message on it.
"Thanks," was all it said. Robyn smiled and, with a couple of taps, wrote a reply.
"You're very welcome," it said, Robyn being grateful for the autocorrect, which worked almost all of the time. "Sorry about looking at your book." She handed it back -- the girl read, smirked, and tapped another message.
"It's ok. I was asking for it by reading in public. Can you sign?" Robyn wasn't sure what that meant, at first, until the words "sign language" popped into her head. She looked at the girl and shook her head, sorrowfully. The girl kept typing. "That's ok. Anyway yeah thank you!" At that, she turned off the tablet -- only for Robyn to reach out and take her arm. She stared at it for a moment then, getting the message, handed back the tablet.
"If it's conversation you're after then I'm willing :)" she wrote. "Never gonna get to sleep anyways." She passed it back.
"Me either. I read to try and keep my mind off the flying. It's tough having family all over the world :("
"I bet! Are you Canadian?" She read it and shook her head.
"I'm from Hong Kong. But my parents live in Canada now and I go to university in London. Its... complicated."
"Sounds it! Im from England. Well at least youve got good books to keep you company ;P" The girl bit her bottom lip, embarrassed, but a smile still fought its way through as her fingers dawdled, pondering a reply.
"I swear I read other stuff!!!!"
"Bet you do"
"It's true! But on planes I prefer that kind of thing instead. It distracts me."
"Yeah you looked pretty absorbed I must say ;)" She pouted at Robyn, then went back to reading. "What's your name?"
