Page 6 of Reconnected Hearts
Making it to the front of the line I scan my ticket. I follow the people in front of me down the loading bridge until we all become jumbled together at the portal, shuffling in single-file. The only seats that are filled as I shove my way to the back of the plane are first and business class. I’m in the first row in economy, and I take that as a good sign. I desperately hope I won’t have to sit next to some smelly, stuffy stranger or screaming kid. Or worse, somebody who wants to chat with me. This day has already been hard enough without having to make awkward small talk.
I settle into my seat and tuck my backpack under the row in front of me. I keep my eyes trained on the people trickling in and hold my breath until they pass my row.
I wait and wait, and the steady stream of people starts to slow. After a while, the flow seems to stop completely. I let myself celebrate, smiling to myself and relaxing into my seat.
Just as I’m about to spread out and make the extra space my own, a man bursts through the curtain separating business and economy.
My heart sinks. I check the rows around; there are no other open seats.
I watch the person stumble over someone’s foot, then someone else’s backpack. His hair is in his face, making it impossible for me to see if he gives off creeper vibes. When he stops at my row, he wipes his hair away from his face, and our eyes latch onto one and other.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
If I thought I was cursed before, I’m absolutely convinced now. Iknowthis dude. Not only do I know him.
Ihatehim.
“Lucy?” he asks in surprise, his thick eyebrows raised to his hairline.
“Noah,” I huff out in greeting, making myself as small in my seat as possible.
He better not eventhinkabout getting anywhere close to me.
Despite my wishes, he slides into the seat and tosses his navy backpack in the space between us. He’s purposely not looking at me, and I’m doing the same.
I refuse to believe this is happening. Of all of the people to be stuck next to for five hours,him? I’m convinced I’ve made some cosmic entity angry because there is absolutely no way I’m sitting next to my nemesis from college.College.
I graduated nearly four years ago. The nameNoah Laurierhasn’t crossed my mind since. That prick made my life miserable, picking fight after fight with me in our Women’s Literature “constructive group discussions” that were really just an excuse for the boys to be sexist pigs.
As I stare at him in disbelief, a particularly infuriating memory comes rushing back.
It was a crisp autumn day,and our class was engaged in a heated discussion about Virginia Woolf's "A Room of One's Own." I had just shared my thoughts on the importance of the essay in the context of women's rights and the challenges female writers faced in a male-dominated society.
"Lucy, maybe if you lived more in the real world instead of burying your nose in books, you'd see things differently," Noah's voice cut through the room, dripping with condescension. "Not everything is about oppression, you know. Some people just don't have what it takes to make it, regardless of gender."
I felt a sharp pang in my chest, his words hitting closer to home than I cared to admit. It was true that I spent most of my time reading, often foregoing social events and parties in favour of losing myself in the pages of a good book. But that didn't make my opinions any less valid, did it?
I tried to push down the hurt and focus on the anger bubbling up inside me. How dare he dismiss my perspective so casually, with such blatant disregard for the very real obstacles women have faced throughout history?
"That's an incredibly ignorant and dismissive thing to say," I shot back, my voice trembling slightly. "Literature reflects and shapes our understanding of the world. Engaging with these texts is crucial to recognizing and dismantling the systemic barriers that have held women back for centuries."
Noah scoffed, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Spare me the social justice warrior spiel. Sounds like someone's been spending too much time in their feminist echo chamber."
The class erupted into a mix of gasps and snickers, and I felt my confidence waver, my arguments suddenly seeming flimsy in the face of his mockery.
Just as I’m sinking deeper into my chair, I hear the guy next to him, Greg whisper all too loudly “Jheeze, it’s somebody’s time of the month,”. Noah snickers and whispers something back.
Noahand his group of frat clowns. They turned my favorite class into something to be dreaded.
He must sense my disdain. “Trust me,” he grumbles, folding his arms against his chest, “I don’t like this any more than you do, Lucy.”
I scoff, ignoring the way blood rushes around me when he says my name. It’s probably my fight or flight response telling me to run. “I doubt that.”
Noah glares at me out of the corner of his eye, although I’m not quite sure whyhe’sangry. I never gave him any reason to hold a grudge against me. If anything, I should be the one pitching a fit like a child, not him.
Noah sighs heavily and turns to fully meet my gaze. I’m uncomfortable under the weight of it. I’d forgotten how intense his hazel eyes can be when he’s serious. They always used to intimidate me, embarrassingly so, no matter how much I’d hate to admit that out loud.
“Look,” he starts. “The flight is full, and I really have no interest in getting off of this plane, so let’s just agree to pretend like we don’t know each other. Complete strangers. We won’t speak a word to one another. And when we land in Providence, we’ll forget this ever happened. The past will stay in the past.”
