Page 3 of The Bossy One

This was going to be a long flight.

* * *

A half hour later she was still talking. I couldn’t tell if it was her personality, or her own perky way of punishing me for my earlier rudeness.

Maybe both.

Her voice had a soft, pleasant warmth to it, but dear God, did there have to be somuchof it? So far she’d opined on which airlines had the best miles plans, the institutional discrimination against left-handed people, why outside concerts were more fun, the relative shortage of pop songs about women named Olivia, and the year her favorite shade of purple was invented.

“Oh, excuse me, can I have a glass of white wine?” Olivia asked the passing flight attendant. “It’s been a rough day.”

“We’re not doing full beverage service on this flight,” the flight attendant said. “It’s only an hour and forty minutes. Also, it’s eleven in the morning.” There was more than a hint of judgment in the flight attendant’s voice.

“Oh.” Olivia deflated. “Sure. That makes sense.”

The flight attendant walked away. Olivia stayed silent.

“Finally,” I muttered, slouching deeper into my seat.

“Oh,nowhe talks,” Olivia huffed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

“Nothing. None of my business.” She mimed zipping her lips.

Right.

I waited, counting in my head.1, 2, 3, 4…

“It’s just that I’ve met your type before,” Olivia burst out. “You’re the type of guy who’s only interested in talking if you get to judge and mock people. Because God forbid you get over yourself and just befriendly.”

“I am friendly.”

If this sounds like I was caving, that’s because I was. Then and there, I would’ve confessed to murder if that made her shut up for more than five consecutive minutes.

“You’ve barely said a word to me,” she retorted. “And you only answer in grunts. That’s not what I’d call friendly.”

“I—”

“Am I annoying you? Because if I am, I won’t say a word more.” God himself was laughing. “I just thought this flight would go by faster with some conversation, that’s all. Besides, and I’m not proud to admit it, I’m a nervous flyer. Being God knows how many miles up in the air, it makes me nervous. And after the day I just had…I needed the distraction. But, fine, message received. Loud and clear. I won’t say a word more.”

I held my breath.

“Not even if you ask me to,” she continued. “Okay, maybe if you ask me nicely. But otherwise—”

“Seriously?” I looked up at the ceiling and rolled my eyes. “I get the nervous flyer thing, but you really need to take a deep breath here. I mean…bloody hell.”

“That was uncalled for.” She sounded genuinely hurt. Then her eyes narrowed. “I don’t know who you are but—”

“I’m just a guy with a growing headache,” I volleyed back, my annoyance getting the best of me. “And your endless talking isn’t helping matters.”

“You know what… No, no, I’m not sinking to your level.” She crossed her arms and looked away from me. She was probably going for calm superiority, but she just looked annoyed.

Since sleep clearly wasn’t happening on this flight, I checked my phone. Luckily, the plane had Wi-Fi.

But I found myself at a loss of whom to message. I didn’t particularly want to reach out to any of my real friends. What would I even say?Funny story. My sister just told me she’s an alcoholic and asked me to look after her kid while she’s in rehab.

I wasn’t ready for that.

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