Page 38 of The Man Next Door
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Izzie is dressed in blue, a crafted blue cap made of construction paper tops her head. Adele’s red scarf is wrapped around her slender neck, a pretty bow tied under her chin. She’s also wearing Adele’s black heels.
Eight chairs are arranged in rows of twos; the kitchen table chairs and every other one we could find. Little Abe and I are sitting next to each other, the only people on the flight today.
“Hello, my name is Izzie, and I’m going to be your flight attendant today. How are you? Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
Abe smiles wide. He loves to be included in our games, and we pretty much have no choice to include him because he usually follows us around like a lost puppy. “Why, we’re fine. Thank you for asking. My wife doesn’t like planes. They scare her.”
I laugh.His wife… yes. The kid’s pretty spunky for a six-year old.
“There’s nothing to be scared of,” Izzie tells me. Izzie wants to be a flight attendant when she grows up, despite the fact that, like me, she’s never been on a plane. Perhaps it’s the idea of adventure, or escaping this life and this park that excites her.
We play this game a lot.
“The pilot is very good,” she reassures me. “He won’t crash the plane.”
I stare at her cherry red lips. “Okay… if you say so.”
“I do… and he’s also my husband, you know. We met on a plane going to Miami.”
I smile. “I bet he’s handsome too.”
“Yes… gorgeous.”
“Not as handsome as me,” little Abe chimes in, and we both crack up. The kid is cute, and he knows it.
“So I have orange juice, ginger ale and cranberry juice,” she tells us as she reaches for the plastic cups and the boxes of juice on her blue rolling cart, which in actuality, is usually used to store Adele’s beauty supplies; hair curler, hairspray, hair straightener and the like. Adele is not a low maintenance woman. It’s all in a pile on the floor in her bedroom. We promised to tidy everything.
“I’ll have a ginger ale please,” I say. “Lots of ice please.”
“Orange juice for me, please,” Abe pipes in. “No ice.”
Izzie pours us our drinks, all smiles.
Suddenly, the trailer starts to shake. The liquid in our cups spills to the floor. We’re thrown off the chairs, and I reach for Abe’s small hand but he gets away from me. Suddenly we’re in a real plane, hurling toward the ground, thirty thousand feet below. I’m sure I’m going to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to leave before saying goodbye. There’s just one person I need to say goodbye to. I need to say goodbye to Gavin.
I wake suddenly, breathless. My body is sweaty and clammy, the sheets hot.
The clock reads 2:21 AM. It’s late, yet Noah is still by my side, in my bed. I’m in nothing but a t-shirt, and he’s completely naked next to me, sleeping on top of my ruffled sheets. I study him without apology. The moonlight seeps through my window as I trace the curves of his body. I study the tattoo on his shoulder, an intricate design. At its center is the letter E in a serif font. I wonder if it’s a tribute to an ex-girlfriend, perhaps the one who broke his heart, who made him leave Nashville.
He’s so beautiful. And young.What the hell am I doing?
He stirs and I turn my gaze away, not wanting to be caught in the act.
The sex was wild, not especially romantic, but after, we stayed in each other’s arms and said almost nothing. I wondered what he was thinking about, but didn’t dare ask. He seemed to have so much weighing on him. Did he regret our lovemaking? Was he already planning his escape? Was he worried I would become clingy? I pulled away at that thought, turned on my back, and quickly fell into slumber.
He stayed the night. What does this mean? Are we an item now? Men his age hook up with women all the time. Did this mean anything to him? I have so many questions.
I glance at the clock and at the dark sky. They’ll just have to wait.
* * *
I wiggledmyself into my tightest jeans, and slipped on a cute pink frilly top. My long locks, usually in a pony tail, were worn down. I was going for a mix of sexy and innocent, but I also wanted to look older. I wished I had some heels. For a second, I considered borrowing some from Adele, but I was sure they wouldn’t fit my giant feet. Adele was a small delicate woman, and her feet were as small as the rest of her.
Heels would be too much anyway. He would see right through me.
I was excited as I headed to his place. I was misbehaving and going against my father’s wishes, and something about that was freeing and thrilling.
