Page 71 of Crosswind

"You're Head of Finance," Patrick says. "I notice things about aircraft for a living."

"I fly a lot," I say. "Different perspective."

"The 787 has a perfectly good cabin."

"I didn't say it didn't," I say. "I said the A350 is better. Look at it. Look at the approach. The way it sits in the air."

I am aware, at this point, that Patrick has gone quiet.

This is not unusual. Patrick sometimes goes quiet when he is thinking or watching something or… I glance at him.

He has the camera on me.

He has had the camera on me, I understand from the angle, for the entire conversation. He is filming me explain the aerodynamic superiority of the Airbus A350 over the Boeing 787 while watching an A350 land in Bali. He is doing this with the expression of someone who has found something they consider extremely valuable and is not going to stop filming under any circumstances.

I look at the camera. Then at Patrick behind it — his expression patient, intent, the one he has when he has found something worth his full attention.

"Patrick."

"Don't stop," he says. Quietly. Still filming. His eyes on me over the top of the phone. "You were saying. The wing loading."

I look at him for a moment. At the expression. At the warmth behind the professionalism of it.

"Patrick."

"You're passionate about this," he says. With the expression of someone who has found something they find completely, unreservedly perfect.

"I have opinions about aircraft design," I say. "It's not…”

"You just said the A350 is beautiful," he says. "You used the word beautiful about an aircraft."

"It is beautiful."

He turns the camera to himself.

"I want to be clear," he says, to the camera, with complete seriousness, "that I am not sure whether to be proud that my boyfriend knows this much about aircraft or personally wounded that he prefers a plane I don't fly." He pauses. "I'm a 787 man. Jan, apparently, is an A350 man." Another pause. "I may need to look into a type rating. Switch carriers. Start flying the A350." He glances at me. "Would that help?"

"You're already an excellent pilot," I say.

"On the wrong aircraft, apparently."

"The 787 is a fine aircraft," I say. "It's just not as beautiful."

He turns the camera back to me, then back to himself. "I'm in a relationship with an aircraft critic," he says to the camera. "I didn't know this when I started. I want that on record."

He lowers the camera. "I got all of that."

"Patrick."

"Can I use it?"

I hold out my hand. "Let me see what you got."

He hands me the phone. I watch the clips: the approach, my voice, the curve of the wingtip catching the light.

"You can use it," I say. "But I see the finished edit before you post it."

"Of course."