Page 6 of Corrupted Union

“Thank you.” I take my bag from him. “You’re a really good guard, George.”

He shrugs. “I’m not sure how much I helped. You’re fairly low maintenance. I just had to accompany you to all those museums.” He chuckles. “Not a bad job, if you ask me.”

Without thinking, I hug him. George startles before hugging me back. We pull apart, and he flushes, looking down. He clears his throat. “Well, have a nice trip, Francesca. I’ll be here when you get back.”

I wave goodbye as I head into the airport. Even this early in the morning, JFK is crowded. After checking my bag, I walk to security, and once I’m done, I head to my gate. I’ve never traveled by myself before. Only with my family. But now I’m heading on a journey into adulthood.

As the plane boards, a young boy runs past me, bumping into me as he goes.

“Jack!” a woman screams as she chases after her son. I watch, and as if in slow motion, As Jack looks back at his mom, he slams into a kiosk. He sprawls onto his back, groaning in pain.

His mom is several yards away, so I head over to Jack to make sure he’s not seriously hurt. “Are you ok?” I ask him.

Jack, who can’t be more than five, squints his eyes up at me. “I fell.”

“I can see that. Do you need help?” I offer him my hand.

He takes it, and I pull him up. Jack continues to stare at me for a few moments before saying, “You’re pretty.”

“Uh, thanks.” I’ve never had a five-year-old compliment me before. It’s sweet.

His mom finally reaches us, looking relieved that her son is standing. “Jack.” She pulls him into a hug, her face burrowing into his hair. “You can’t run from me like that.” She glances at me, frowns, and pulls Jack away from me before hurrying down the corridor.

I shrug. I don’t expect thanks from anybody. I figure it’s good enough to do a good deed and keep my head down.

I get back in the line, which has grown, and wait my turn to get on the plane. A teenage girl steps in front of me, chewing gum and scrolling on her phone. She cut me in line, but I don’t say anything. If I were Gemma, I’d tell her off until she cried. But I’m not brave like her. My shyness can be crippling at times. So, I let the annoyance roll past me and focus on where I’m going. LA. Emilia. A potential new future.

When I’m on the plane, I head for my seat, only to discover someone else is already sitting there. Since it’s in first class, there are only two seats to a row. A woman with a toddler in the seat next to her. I double check my ticket to make sure I have the right seat. I do.

I’ll have to speak up. “Excuse me?” I say to the woman. She’s digging through a bag and pulling out toys that she tosses at the little girl. “Excuse me?”

She finally looks up at me. “What?”

I point. “You’re … you’re in my seat.”

“No, I’m not.” She doesn’t even check her ticket or look confused.

“Uh, you are. This is my seat.” I show her my ticket.

“Oh.” She blows her bangs off her head. “Well, I have to sit next to my daughter. So, you can have my seat.”

“But …” I clear my throat. “But I paid for this seat.”

“Well, I have to sit next to my daughter so you can have my seat.”

“And where is your seat?” At this point, I’m holding up the line, and the people behind me look incredibly annoyed to be standing and waiting.

She points to the economy part of the plane. “It’s the middle seat at the back of the plane.” I almost want to laugh. This woman wants me to trade my first-class seat for a middle seat at the back of the plane.

“Is there a problem here?” A flight attendant comes over, looking between the woman and me. The little girl is playing with a box of crayons.

“She’s in my seat,” I whisper.

“What was that?” she asks in a kind tone.

“She’s in my seat,” I repeat in a louder tone. Now, everyone is looking at me. I want to curl into a ball and never be seen again.

The flight attendant, Sarah, as her name tag reads, turns to the woman. “You’re going to have to move to your own seat, Miss.”

---