She had convinced herself she had seen angels outside of her window. Two cherubs playing the harp in the cloud next to the wing of the plane. Her imagination modeled them after the two famous cherubs with their heads in their hands from the Sistine Madonna painting. She was a kid and wanted it to be real badly. In fact, she knew she hadn’t seen it, but insisted she had anyway. She tried to convince a classmate of her story at school. Their 9 year old eyes widened “whoa”, but it was clear they didn't believe her. They had already learned to placate someone who seemed delusional. The spread of her angel story ended there. She no longer believed herself.
Now, she was old and only looked out the plane window with dread during landing. No matter where she was going, an anxiety filled her stomach to be back on the ground where someone or some unknowable thing could get her. She imagined throngs of people on the tarmac with unhappy faces sneering up at her as the plane circled the ground. Some are disappointed mentors shaking their heads- bewildered at her lack of forward direction. An ex boyfriend who had not yet met his own eyes, reaches violently up towards the plane to avenge the time he wasted staring at hers. Her family, stunned by her inconceivably faint existence gaze with a vacant look, an understanding of life being totally out of their control. This is what she saw when she looked out the window, her inescapable of fate of being trampled by them.
The man next to her was watching a movie since he boarded the plane, a pillow already hugging his neck before he was in his seat. She wondered how some people did that, stored all these movies and shows on their phones and just walked around completely consumed. Were they really watching the movie or staring at it. How can they do it for that long. She envied being consumed. Something fully having its way with her. Her stockings felt itchy against her dry legs that were covered in stubble. She had just shaved them, but her body hair grew back always immediately, intent on her being covered in sandpaper to ward off predators. This was how her body loved her. Small colorful veins had begun to appear on her thighs recently like some child inside was drawing with marker on the wall.
The flight attendant was agitated by the French man trying to move around bags in the overhead so his camera case would be safe. The attendant watched him scoldingly, her face void of empathy, the skin hanging under her chin, rosy and chapped, seemed to redden with her temper, threatening him to keep going. The woman found herself watching them over the shoulder of the consumed man. The authoritative flight attendant being publicly rude to the man scrambling to protect his precious camera gave her a subtle relief, an erotic tug, a sense of hope. Her disapproval was delicious. The woman hoped the flight attendant didn’t look at herself with such severity. Most women are at war with their own faces. She remembered catching herself sucking in her stomach while showering alone that morning. She planned to give the attendant a tender smile when she came by with pretzels.
The web of her tights between her legs was uncomfortable. She pulled them up so they’d be closer to her crotch. Why did pantyhose always feel baggy on her no matter what size, even tights held onto the idea of her loosely. Every now and then she would scratch her stubble and the scratching sound her nails made against her nylons made her nauseous. She tended to dress up for flights because that is how she was dressed as a child. Her mom thought it was fun to dress her up as a little flight attendant. She would take pictures with the actual flight attendants usually amused by the gimmick of a little girl in a pill box hat and navy blue blazer and skirt. Sometimes, she could sense they didn’t know what to make of it, annoyed and curious about the upbringing of the child. Sometimes, she could feel her mom was pushing them to take a photo with her. They were never put in first class as her mother thought they might be.
She saw a car explode on the phone of the man next to her. His head remained slunk forward non-reactive. He might be asleep she thought and how nice to be asleep even before take off and not existing in the tension. What her destination was was wiped from memory. It scared herself how long it took her to realize she was going to Dallas again for a “conference” or “seminar”, she forgot how they worded it. She was thinking about how she wanted to be in bed with a mountain dew and an ice bucket next to her with a second mountain dew in it. The man next to her tilted his body towards her, waking himself up. They shared empty eye contact like fish passing each other in a small bowl. Nothing on her phone held her attention. The French man was leaving a slew of tender phone calls for his children behind her. She listened and stole some of his love for herself.
Once in the air, the woman reclined her chair an inch to the dismay of the passenger next to the French man. She rested her hands under her legs and leaned her head against the window. The man next to her started another movie. Two women kissed aggressively on screen. The woman closed her eyes, her forehead pressed against the window. Her chest was tight as she suspected it would be until she was back from Dallas. The dichotomy of this being a “work trip with very little “work” to do made her confused about how to act, how deep she should be breathing. She squinted open her left eye and looked out.
They were inside a cloud, a white fog all around. No angels. No memory of ever convincing herself there were angels. She reached up her skirt and made a small tear in her tights. She pulled until the hole grew large, opening from her thigh to her knee. She peeled the rest of the panty hose off her legs in abrupt violent jerks, pausing to appear in control of herself. She pinched the nylon from between her toes, dragging it away from her naked foot like a dead skin. She wrestled with the tight waist band cutting into her stomach until it finally let go and her guts spilled out. She gathered the scraps of fabric into her bag and put her shoes back on and gave the flight attendant her smile as she handed her her pretzels.
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