Unseen Messages(8)

I didn’t know it but the opposite was true.

Getting on that plane inexplicably tied our fates together.

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The ending credits scrolled over my screen.

Stretching, I switched off the movie, removed my glasses, and rubbed my eyes. I didn’t know exactly how much time had passed, but I’d eaten (extremely crappy airplane food), I’d watched two movies (nothing to gush about) and I’d stolen a few more looks at Unknown Girl across the plane (okay, more than just a few).

I hadn’t forgotten my pledge to forget about her, but the tiredness of a long journey, coupled with the dark gloom of the cabin, didn’t put me in the best of moods. The darkness reminded me too much of the place I’d lived in before escaping to America. The loud hum of engines irritated me to the point of violence.

I didn’t want anything to do with the girl across the aisle.

So why do you keep looking at her?

I was happier on my own. Being on my own meant I didn’t have to answer to anyone, share my past, or worry about their reaction to who I truly was.

Dad had told me time and time again that one day my need for space would be trumped by the perfect woman.

He didn’t have a damn clue.

I didn’t want to find love. I wasn’t worthy of finding love.

I’d seen what Mum’s death did to him. He’d become hollow. A father with no spark. A man with no happiness.

I could handle being on my own.

Why would I ruin that by weakening myself and handing over my heart to a woman who could crush me?

I stole another look at Unknown Girl. She’d scooped her hair into a ponytail and slicked pink lipstick on her very kissable mouth.

Tearing my eyes away, I yanked on my headphones.

Goddammit, what was it about her that interested me?

Who is she?

Pity fate couldn’t talk. If it could, I would’ve heard the reply: She’s your beginning.

Your end.

Your salvation.





Chapter Three


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E S T E L L E

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There is such a thing as loneliness. Loneliness is the stalker you’ve been running from, the parent you’ve been hiding from, the disappointment you’ve been escaping from.

It’s a sticky entity crouching in your heart, filling your soul with echoes, carving out your hope with ten thousand spades of hollowness.

Empty, so, so empty.

Empty as silence. Empty as an argument.

Lyrics: ‘So Empty’ Taken from the notepad of E.E.

...

TEN HOURS INTO the flight.

See? I worried for nothing.

Dinner had been delivered and cleaned away. I’d watched three movies, and the near-empty cabin was fast asleep—minus a few annoying kids a few rows away and a squalling baby in her mother’s arms by the toilets.

Only forty-five minutes to go, then I would be one flight closer to home.

Heavenly home.

I can’t wait.

My transfer in Fiji was a quick two-hour turnaround and the flight onward would only take a few more hours before I could sleep in my own bed, wear fresh clothes than the ones in my suitcase, and decompress for a few days with takeout and pyjamas.

Luckily, the flight wasn’t full, which meant I had a window, middle, and aisle to myself. Unfortunately, I was also the last row of the cabin.

The traipsing passengers and constant flushes of the facilities meant I couldn’t sleep or relax. Elbows and knees constantly hit mine as weary travellers marched the tiny space, doing their best to keep their circulation flowing and muscles from seizing.

Rubbing my eyes, I pulled up the airplane journey on my in-seat screen. The small aircraft flying over the flattened atlas showed we were somewhere over the Pacific Ocean. Far below me existed atolls and paradisiacal archipelagos.

Fiji wasn’t too much further. I’d made it this far, including the last nine hours without another nerve-wracking incident. The turbulence at the beginning of the flight freaked me out, but it had been smooth since.

I could make it home before succumbing to sleep deprivation.

A kid with grubby hands brushed my forearm as he charged back to his parents, leaving the bathroom door hanging open.

I groaned under my breath, reaching behind me to secure it.

Never again.

I would never sit at the back of the airplane.

You should’ve upgraded to business class.

Plopping my headphones over my ears, I rolled my eyes. Just because business class would’ve offered more comfort, I refused to start being that person. The one who expected better service just because they’d had a windfall. The * who felt more deserving than others just because money had changed their financial situation.

No, I wouldn’t be that person.

Changing the atlas for the latest movie channels, I laughed at myself for being so nervous. I’d spent the entire flight wound up and petrified of the simplest noise.

I’d burned through enough calories to sustain me for a week. I was wired on adrenaline and desperate to put as much space between me and flying as possible.

But there’d been nothing to worry about, after all.

There was no such thing as messages or premonition.

I was living proof.

My fingers itched for my notepad to add more lyrics to my half-cooked idea. There was a song lurking in my unwarranted fear. It could become a metaphor for other terrifying things in life.