A Short Flight

In the window seat of a small commuter plane, Vera laid her head against the glass and watched the oranges and reds of the sunset drip down the horizon. On the other side of the aisle sat a man about her age wearing large headphones, hunched over his laptop on the tray table. Vera thought she saw him fiddling with some sound editing software when she had taken her seat half an hour earlier.

They were the only two passengers on the flight.

Vera was watching him scowl at the computer screen when the pilot's voice came over the intercom. "Good evening, folks, this is your pilot speaking. As I'm sure the two of you have noticed, we've got an empty flight tonight."

The man across the aisle looked up, peered around the cabin, and locked eyes with Vera. He smiled.

The pilot continued, "We've reached cruising altitude, so I'm going to go ahead and turn off the fasten seatbelts sign. We should have a smooth ride ahead. I expect to land in San Diego in three hours."

Vera watched the man across the aisle fold his headphones and slide them into a draw string bag. He zipped his laptop into a backpack under the seat in front of him and leaned back, his hands behind his head.

Vera took a breath. "How's the view from over there?" she called across the aisle.

"Good question," he said. "Let me check." He lifted the shade of his window as far as it could go and drew near to the glass. Golden light set his face aglow. He turned back to Vera. "Okay, wow. It's amazing."

Vera grinned. "But have you ever seen the sun set on the ocean from twenty thousand feet?"

"No, have you?"

"I'm looking at it right now. Want to have a look?" Vera gestured to the seat beside her.

"Yes! Yes. Absolutely." He unfastened his seatbelt and shuffled across the plane. When he sat next to Vera, she noticed a small, neat treble clef tattooed on the inside of his wrist.

"Here, feast your eyes," Vera said, sitting back in her seat to clear a line of sight for him. He leaned over the armrest just a bit, eyes fixed on the sun glittering on the water. Vera noticed how close he was. "Okay, wait," she said. "Let's switch seats. You'll get a better view."

From the aisle seat, Vera watched his eyes widen as he took in the sunset. The sun was low, hovering just above the sharp, sharp line where the sky met the sea. They could see the land, too, half of the coastal mountain range green in the last light of the day.

Vera was a frequent flyer of this particular route, and she knew this sunset well. She did not tire of it, but it charmed her to see someone else rendered speechless by the display for the first time.

"That," he breathed, still glued to the window, "is amazing."

"I'm Vera," she said.

"Adam."

"Nice to meet you."

"You, too."

For a moment, they did not speak, and the sky dimmed. Adam sat up. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, I totally stole your seat. Let's switch back."

"No, that's all right," Vera smiled. "I fly this once a month. It's more fun to watch someone else see it."

He raised his eyebrows. "Once a month? Do you live in Seattle or San Diego?"

"Ah, San Diego. But my work brings me to Seattle a lot."

"I'm from San Diego, too. What do you do?"

"Oh, my real job is so boring. Can I tell you about my side gigs instead?"

His lips quirked up on one side, and he squared his shoulders toward her, head propped against the plastic wall of the plane. "Okay, sure. Tell me about your side gigs."

"I'm a professional party princess. On the weekends."

"Really?"

"Yep."

"How is that?"

"So fun. I do a little face-painting, a little singing, a little magic. It's awesome."

"That sounds awesome. You don't happen to have any face-paint on you now, do you?"

Vera shrugged. "Unfortunately, all my materials are more than three ounces."

Adam rubbed his chin. "Rats. Maybe—" His face lit up. "Oh! How about magic? Did you bring any magic with you?"

"Please, I always bring magic with me. I got the magic in me, one might say."

"I am begging you to demonstrate."

She appraised him, then reached into her bag underneath the seat in front of her and emerged with a deck of playing cards.

"A card trick?" Adam said, eyes narrowed.

Vera unlatched the tray table and shook out the cards. "I don't choose the magic, Adam, the magic chooses me." She turned over her shoulder and winked at him.

"Is that right?"

"Pick a card, any card, hombre." As he delicately thumbed through the cards fanned out before him, Adam met Vera's gaze, and his thumb brushed her knuckles when he selected one from the center. "Ah, the ace of spades," she said. "Great choice."

Adam eyes jerked down to his card. "What? It's not the ace of spades."

Vera grinned at him again. "Just kidding."

"Oh, I see how it is," Adam laughed.

"Now put your card on top. And tap it three times. For the magic, of course."

"Of course." Adam obliged.

A flight attendant carried a cardboard box filled to the brim with generic-brand bags of pretzels down the aisle. She spared Vera and Adam a glance as she passed. Neither of them looked up. The flight attendant thought about her own partner waiting at home, and she was grateful to have the week in San Diego before taking off again. When she got to the back of the plane, she leaned her elbows on the counter and whispered to the other flight attendant.

Together, as if they intended to serve a full flight, the two of them pushed and pulled opposite ends of the beverage cart toward the cockpit. When they reached Vera's and Adam's row, they heard Vera say, "Was this your card?" as Adam's mouth dropped open.

The two flight attendants met eyes over the beverage cart.

Alice, middle-aged and nearest to Adam and Vera, had waited tables in a four-star restaurant in her twenties. She summoned those memories now and folded a moist towelette over her forearm.

"Can I interest either of you in something to drink?" Alice asked.

Vera and Adam both jumped in their seats.

"Oh my gosh," Vera said, "I didn't hear you coming at all."

Alice's colleague Walter snorted.

"I would love a tomato juice," Adam said.

"And could I have orange juice and sparkling water?"

As Alice prepared their drinks, Adam and Vera turned to one another once again.

"Tomato juice?" Vera wrinkled her nose.

"Okay, tabling—for now—the fact that I'm sitting next to a wizard, I only ever drink tomato juice when I'm flying. I get this inexplicable urge to drink tomato juice the second I reach cruising altitude."

"I actually do understand that. They say it's the salt."

"And at least I didn't order two drinks. I mean, geez, save some for the other passengers."

Alice set the two cups onto blank paper napkins on Vera's tray table. "But it's not two drinks!" Vera said. Carefully, she poured a splash of orange juice into the sparkling water. Then she poured sparkling water into the orange juice. She repeated the process until both cups were full of bubbly, pale orange liquid. "See? Orange soda. One drink."

Adam nodded at her solemnly. "I'm impressed."

Walter handed Alice a bottle over the cart, and Alice held it out to Adam and Vera, label facing out. "How about some Merlot?" Both Adam and Vera began to shake their heads, but before they could protest, she interjected, "It's free. A passenger gifted it to us last night. But unfortunately, Walter and I don't drink. We would love the two of you to enjoy it."

"Oh no, we couldn't," Vera said.

"Maybe we could," Adam said.

"The passenger was some sort of sommelier from Napa Valley. I'm sure it's quite good," Alice added.

"Okay," Vera said. "We'll take it. We'd love some."

Alice retrieved two more plastic cups from a drawer in the cart, and she held one hand behind her back as she filled either cup halfway, and she twisted the neck of the bottle to catch any drips. She handed the open bottle to Vera. "You two be sure to finish it. I can't re-cork it, and I'd hate to see it all over the plane if we hit any turbulence."

As they pushed the cart back up the aisle, Walter and Alice worked to stifled their laughter.

"Well that was nice," Adam said.

"Shall we toast to something?" Vera swirled the wine in her cup.

"Definitely. Let's toast to magic. And to sunset from twenty thousand feet."

"To magic and to sunset from twenty thousand feet."

They touched their cups together and each took a sip. Vera pursed her lips. Adam swallowed audibly.

"Boy, you can really taste the fermented grapes," he said.

"You heard the woman. We have to finish it. No re-corking and whatnot."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure this had a screw-top. I think she's trying to get us drunk."

Vera laughed a long, full laugh.

Outside, the sky darkened, and one by one, bright white stars appeared like pin-pricks in a deep blue velvet sheet. Vera and Adam talked in low voices, refilling each other's cup every so often, until Vera held the bottle vertically, letting the the last purple droplets drip, drip, drip into Adam's cup. Their faces were inches apart.

"Adam?" she murmured.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to go out with me some time? When we're back on land, that is."

"I would very much like that, Vera. Though I'm not sure how our second date can ever top our first."

Vera tilted her head. "Was this a date?"

Adam looked at the ceiling. "I'd say so. A romantic sunset, a little wine, a little magic. That's a date if ever I've been on one."

"I suppose you're right. We'll just have to come up with something really good."

Adam looked her straight in the eye. "I have faith that we will."

It was a clear night, and the silent mountains passed beneath them. The moon was up now, and it brightened the sparse clouds and the sea and the land and turned everything silver, save for the yellow lights of a city far below.

Over the intercom came the pilot's voice once again. "Hi there, just wanted to let you two know that I’ll be turning off all the lights in the cabin for a moment. Nothing is wrong. I just want you folks to see how bright the moon is tonight. Might be really beautiful for a moment.”

Soon, the cabin was dark.

But the moonlight streamed in through the windows, and Vera and Adam seemed to glow.