Kimber Chin

I have the vacation bug again. I can’t go on vacation (something about work requiring me to, gasp, actually be there) but I figured I could send my characters on vacation.

She was late. Tora hurried onto the plane, her tote slung over her shoulder, her boarding pass in hand. But for once, her papa’s last minute demands benefited her. Coach was full and she had been bumped up to first class.

She checked her boarding pass. 3B. She scanned the cabin. There was only one empty seat, beside a man in a dark suit and sunglasses. Tora moved toward it, stopping only to retrieve a pen a passenger had dropped. The brittle faced woman sniffed as Tora handed it to her, not deeming to thank her.

“Miss, do you need help with that?” The smiling flight attendant motioned to her bag.

“No, thank you.” Tora had been raised better. ‘Politeness costs nothing’, her mom always told her, ‘and it separates us from the apes’. “My tote will slide under the seat.” The overhead bins were designed for abnormally tall people. Tora avoided them.

She sank into the plush leather seat. This was flying. She sighed contently. Her papa refused to fly first class. ‘Our customers fly coach.’ He’d pound the boardroom table to emphasize his point, making her uncles and cousins jump. ‘We fly coach.’

She hadn’t a choice this time. Her papa would understand. Tora glanced over at her neighbor. He was a big man, his legs sprawled over into her space. She didn’t mind. She had a lot of it and the poor man looked exhausted. Deep lines were etched around his slightly open mouth. His black hair was mussed. His suit jacket was creased at the elbows. Sunglasses hid his eyes but Tora could imagine there were dark circles under them.

His breathing was deep and regular. He slept. He likely hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks, just like her papa when he bought a new hotel. If not for her mom insisting he rest, her papa would have worked himself into an early grave years ago.

This man, Tora scanned his bare ring finger, had no wife to remind him that sleep was necessary. Maybe he had no one at all. She had met men like that when she traveled. They hadn’t family nor homes, flying from city to city, solving problems or selling products.

“Miss, we are preparing for take off.” The perky flight attendant was back. “The captain has put the seatbelt light on.” Tora obediently put her seatbelt on. “Should I wake…” Well manicured fingers fluttered at Tora’s neighbor.

“No, no, I’ll take care of it.” It would be a shame to wake the man. Judging by the papers on the tray in front of him, he would insist on working the rest of the flight.

Tora removed her own seatbelt, leaning over the man, searching for the ends of his seatbelt. It was unnerving to touch a stranger like this. Pretend he’s your papa, Tora repeated in her mind. He didn’t smell like her papa though. He smelled of musk and man and something else that made her toes curl. She snapped the buckle in place, leaving the belt loose, and returned to her seat.

Done. It was nothing a flight attendant wouldn’t have done. Tora studied the lowered tray. Trays were to be put away during take off and landing.