When the plane takes off, Sienna’s fingers dig into the armrests. The back of her head has been shoved against the seat as though the plane were a fighter jet and we took off at an unimaginable speed. Her hazel-colored eyes are as wide as my fists underneath her short bangs.
The plane levels out and soon after we’re surfing the clouds hanging over the Pacific.
“Sienna?”
Frozen in her seat, she won’t even move her head to look at me next to her.
“Yeah?” she says with a nervous tenor.
“You’re terrified right now,” I whisper, leaning toward her. “And I gotta say, I’m a little embarrassed.”
Her head falls to the side and her eyes wrinkle at the edges with confusion.
“You’re embarrassed?” she asks with disbelief.
I shrug. “Well, yeah, I mean you have my balls in your purse and they really don’t seem to be helping much.” I shake my head solemnly. “It’s kind of hurtin’ my ego, y’know?”
A smile sneaks up on her features, and the freckles splashed across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks seem to soften with the glimmer in her eyes. It’s what I was shooting for, that smile. I wouldn’t mind framing it on my nightstand so I could see it every morning when I wake up. I smile back at her, close-lipped, trying my best to contain the true measure of it.
Then slowly her fingers loosen on the armrests. Her chest begins to rise and fall with a steadier pace. Her shoulders melt from the ice and begin to relax.
“Remember,” I whisper softly, “this isn’t about getting it over with. It’s about wanting to do it.” I lean in so close that I can smell her shampoo and I point toward the window next to her. “Tell yourself that this flight is nothing and you’re not afraid of it. Smile to yourself and just let it go.” I spread my fingers toward the window as if I were releasing a butterfly into the air.
Sienna
I don’t know what has come over me, but I suddenly begin to feel freed, like I’ve finally crawled from underneath a thick, suffocating blanket and am tasting the cool air for the first time. I look toward the window, but not out it yet, and I see the baby-blue sky filling up the glass, unmoving, even though we’re traveling fast through the air. I begin to feel like I shouldn’t think about how I’m doing this to get over a fear, but instead I’m doing something as natural and as common as walking outside to check my mailbox. This is nothing, I tell myself. And I start to believe it.
Finally I lean toward the window and without taking a deep breath or any other beforehand preparations, I just do it. I look through the small oval glass and down at the massive ocean and it takes my breath away. At first I’m breathless because of the fear as it tries digging its talons in me, but I force it at bay and watch with a breathless awe instead, letting the experience fill me from my head to my heels—it’s terrifying, but exhilarating just the same, like how a rush from the world’s tallest roller coaster must feel. My heart beats with a rapid fervor, making the blood around my eyes feel thin. I don’t think I’ve blinked in several long seconds. My lips are parted just a sliver, letting me suck in the air as it dries the inside of my mouth. And for what feels like forever, I can’t look at anything else but the sky and the ocean and the thousands of feet between them.
“What’s your opinion on Norway?” I hear Luke say.
Confused by the question, I look over at him. He’s staring down into the pages of a magazine.
“Norway?” I ask curiously. “Well … I don’t really have an opinion,” I tell him. “I’ve never given it much thought, I guess. What do you mean exactly?”
He glances over at me. “Oh, I just mean if you’ve ever been, or have you ever thought of going there?”
“Nope, never been. And I can’t say I’ve ever thought about going, either.”
Luke flips a page of the magazine and then rests his hand on the text.
“I’m going there in a month,” he says. “I guess you can call it a vacation.”
Crossing my arms over the top of my purse, I adjust my back against the seat so that I’m sitting at an angle, facing him somewhat.
“I thought since you do so much traveling for your job,” he goes on, “you might’ve visited Norway—could’ve given me some firsthand insight.”
“Nah,” I say. “I’ve never traveled outside of the United States. Jamaica was going to be my first really big trip.”
He smiles and closes the magazine on his lap. “Well, I’m glad you decided to hang out with me instead.”
“Me too.”
Silence ensues.
“Why Norway? Though I admit, it’d be awesome to see the fjords.”
Luke shrugs and glances at the magazine cover briefly, then back over at me. “It’s just a place I’ve been planning to go for a couple of years with my brother and our friends. Part of a multi-stop trip. China, then Norway, then Switzerland …” He stops and gazes out ahead of him. A sort of sadness rests in his pensive features. “… well, I didn’t make the China trip, but I … well, I just had too much work to do and it wasn’t a good time to be taking a vacation.”
He rests his back against the seat and crosses his arms over his stomach. I can’t put my finger on it, but it I get the feeling there’s far more to his story than what he’s letting on.
I rest against my seat, too, and decide to change the subject, only because it seems like the thing to do.