Page 10 of In Flight

Three

ON FRIDAY I WAKE UPexcited.

Alert and stimulated and impatient andexcited.

Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure it’s because I get to see the annoying man again on the flight this evening.

Isaac.

I wonder if he’s all jittery about it too. Probably not. He seems like a person who compartmentalizes. When he’s working, he’s likely not thinking about anything else. And if he occasionally reflects on another flight beside me this evening, he’s not going to be particularly enthusiastic about it.

I’m not sure why I am. I guess it feels different. New. Interesting. Like I’m on an emotional roller coaster and never know what to expect around the next curve.

I usually don’t mind my job. As Isaac somehow deduced, I’ve got a mid-level admin job in human resources at the same art school I attended, and in general I’m happy with it. It’s mostly routine paperwork and discussions with new employees. I don’t handle the conflicts or the problematic situations, so nothing taxes me too strenuously. I’m able to go through the steps of my workday while keeping my mind engaged on my own projects and daydreams.

But today the hours drag on. And on.

And on.

Until it’s finally five and I can clock out for the week.

I finished packing this morning, and Cash picks me up from work at 5:05. He’s as happy and laid-back as ever as he asks about my plans for the weekend and tells me he’s going to miss me.

It’s really not good for a relationship when one party leaves town every single weekend for months, but it hasn’t fazed him.

It hasn’t fazed me either.

Probably not a good sign that I’m more excited about seeing the annoying man on a two-and-a-half-hour flight than coming back home to Cash.

I brush those thoughts out of my mind.

This whole situation is new and unpredictable. I might march to my own drum, but I’ve never rested my security on an unstable foundation.

I like my life. I’m thirty-one years old with a decent job and a nice little apartment and plenty of friends and a guy to go out with and extra mental space for crafts and art and pretty things and a family I love who loves me back.

I’ve worked hard to get here. There’s no way in hell I’m going to throw it away on a few stray spikes of interest and attraction.

And that’s all it could ever be with a man like Isaac. And me.

With all that resolved in my mind, I’m only a little bit frazzled as I check my bag and my pockets to make sure I have my phone, ID, sketchbook, and wallet among the rest of the clutter I carry around with me.

“Remember to stop at the bakery,” I say when it looks like Cash is about to pull onto the highway.

“Oh yeah. Almost forgot.”

Fortunately, the bakery isn’t crowded at this time of day. They have my order ready, so I’m able to run in and collect it without wasting too much time. Soon I’m back in the truck with a small box of cupcakes on my lap.

---