Writer's Club Prompt/ October

Prompt from writers club:

Your plane is about to takeoff and the passenger next to you whispers to you, "I know I shouldn't say anything, but I can't keep this secret any longer, I have to tell someone"

ACTION!

With mere seconds to spare, I make it to the gate. “You almost missed your flight.”


“I’m …run…terminal 2…I… let’s go,” I lie and am out of breath. I was just running late, as usual.

The ticket agent nodded through my excuse, “It’s a full flight, you may have to check your bag.”

This irritates me. If I’d wanted to check my bag, I would have. I like being able to just go. No waiting for the conveyer belt to ever so slowly roll around with my luggage…hopefully.

“I’ll take my chances,” I tell her as I wheel my bag on to the plane.

A quick survey of the plane shows me that the ticket agent didn’t lie. “3B…3B…3B…” I chant as I make my way through the narrow asile. There’s someone sitting in my coveted seat. Of course there is. The seat next to the woman is open.

“You’re sitting in my seat,” I say through clenched teeth that hold my boarding pass. I don’t glance at her as I lift my bag up over my shoulder and into the overhead compartment. There’s just one other bag there.

“I am? Sorry,” the woman replied as she fumbled with the seat belt. “I’ve been so distracted. I just rushed to the airport.” She stopped suddenly.

I try to avoid eye contact. I don’t need or want to know this woman’s’ story. I just want a nice quiet flight back to Chicago. I check to make sure my iPad is in my carry-on. I’m thinking about how much battery I have left when I’m interrupted.

“Ma’am, please take your seat,” the stewardess reprimands me.

“Yes, that’s the general idea…” I motion toward the woman who suddenly remembered that she was supposed to move, “waiting for my seatmate here.” There’s no way I’m giving up my aisle seat, so I wait patiently.

I plop down in the seat and then buckle up. My neighbor stares at me and I freeze. I can’t hide behind my electronics until after takeoff.

“Are you based here in DC or Chicago?” she asks innocently. I know it’s just the beginning. I use this opportunity to get a good look at my new BFFN. She’s just disheveled, no more than regular road warriors, but she has a sense of refinement to her. The smell of patchouli just tickles my nose. And is that wine? My eye brow raises just a touch. I’m sure if I’d had time, I’d a had a dirty Ciroc with a lemon twist.

“I live in Chicago. Just here for business. And you?”

“Oh, I’ve lived in DC my whole life. I’ve been involved in politics for ever, it seems… You’re not into politics, are you dear?”

“I vote every four years. That’s about as political as I care to get.” BFFN seems to relax at this information. She’s so curious, I think. “I work in marketing. I extend my hand,” I’m Alyssa. Alyssa Wainwright.”

“Nice to meet you Alyssa,” she responds as she receives my hand and studies me.

The stewardess’ voice comes on PA system, we must prepare for takeoff.

BFFN leans in toward me and draws me closer to her, “I know I shouldn’t say anything, but I can’t keep this secret another minute, I have to tell someone,” she whispers. My eyes travel down her left arm to her ring finger. A 4-carat sparkler graces her hand. I’m not sure why I do this. I realize that she hasn’t shared her name, but she was definitely drinking something. Suddenly I can’t wait to get airborne so that I can be served, the only perk of first class. “Okay,” I think, “I’ll play her little game.” I don’t pull away, but nod to allow her to continue

“There’s so much going on. The world is changing so fast. So much. Are you married, in a relationship? She asks.”

“I date.”

“What do you think of infidelity?”

I relax a bit, she’s just having an affair. Could be a good story and I want her to continue, so I don’t want to land on the wrong side of this question. “I don’t know. Things happen, you know?”

“That’s just it, everyone is so casual about vows. It’s like, why even get married?!” she exclaims.

“Ok…her husband had the affair,” I think. I take another look at that diamond. I think I could overlook an affair for a matching set of earrings.

“There’s a scandal going on right under the American peoples’ noses at the White house. An affair.”

“Oh, that’s nothing new, I say and wave my hand, swatting away her “scandalous secret”. “Which president was faithful? That’s a better story, honestly.”

“Our President is faithful! She exclaims and then looks around.”

We’re interrupted by the stewardess, “would you like a beverage?”

“Sauvignon Blanc,” we say almost in unison. It’s funny, so it breaks the tension. I lower my voice. “What are you talking about? Who’s having an affair?”

The stewardess comes back with two glasses of wine. BFFN takes a long sip. I follow suit. “She is,” she says and stares at me, letting it sink in. “And it’s gonna be a fuckin’ mess.”