Page 72 of Choose Us
When someone asked me what my favourite something was, I responded with ease. It was a simple question. A few weeks ago, someone at work asked what had been my favourite case to work on. I responded without hesitation; it was 100 percent the Russell v Crane case of 2017.
On the flight home the attendant noticed my delight at the vast movie selection on the in-flight entertainment system.
“What’s your favourite film?” She smiled politely.
I pointed towards the blueAvatarin the top left cornerof the list.
“Avatar? Interesting.”
“What about you?” I asked, making conversation. She clearly didn’t have a lot to do in our cabin; the majority of the passengers were sleeping.
“It’s not on here, but my favourite has always beenE.T.”
It was a solid choice.
She was friendly, but the favourite film question was one of many triggers. Brooke’s favourites were also myfavourites.
Her favourite colour—Purple.
Her favouritefilm—Avatar.
Her favourite cuisine—Chinese.
Her favourite dessert—Apple Pie.
Her favourite drink—Hot Chocolate.But only withmarshmallows and whipped cream.
I was curious to know if she had new favourites. Had Japan changed her identity? Was her new favourite dessert mochi? Was her favourite food now thetamagoyaki? Did she have all these new experiences and likes I could no longer relate to?
It was a hard pillto swallow.
Our compatibility had never been in question before, but there was a distance between us now; it felt like a million miles. It wasn’t just the physical distance from London to Japan, but a mental distance tugging me away from the picturesque dream-like world where I’d kept her locked away. I’d held on to the fantasy ofher return.
The second I touched down on British soil a phone call from Paula caused excessive vibrations on the tray table. When I said the second, I wasn’t exaggerating. I didn’t answer the first time whilst I was in the midst of scrambling my way off the plane.
“I swear that woman has a tracking device on me,”I muttered.
After twenty minutes I had three texts to accompany the phone calls. Did she not understand baggage claim?
Paula
Call
Paula
Me
Paula
Now
Anyone who didn’t know Paula would assume she was in serious trouble, or she’d just bumped intotheAdele in the middle of Harrods. I would bet my life the real situation was far less exciting.
“Hi, Paula.”
“Holly! What took you so long? Your flight got in thirty minutes ago,” she screeched.
“Are you stalking me?” I laughed.
