Chapter 11 #2
“Don’t you?” Maybe taking inventory of how I respond to things isn’t something most other people do, much less noting how others react.
When I’d first started writing, I’d used an emotion thesaurus from time to time to help me convey what my characters were feeling through their physical signals, internal sensations, and mental responses.
Now I think I’m just unconsciously yet acutely aware of those things in myself while also intentionally observing the signs in others.
“I never thought about it before, but maybe I do without even being aware that I’m doing it.”
The person in front of us gets their boarding pass scanned, and then it’s our turn. I smile at the gate attendant and offer her my phone screen. She scans the QR code and wishes me a nice flight.
People are backed up in the gangway, so we’re back to waiting.
The line steadily moves, however, and before I know it, I’m stepping onto the plane.
A flight attendant is there with a welcoming smile and a bottle of hand sanitizer she pumps into any upturned palm.
I offer mine and receive a squirt of disinfectant, which I rub in as I turn the corner to face the center aisle of the plane.
A queasiness settles into my stomach. I think it’s safe to say that the cat is dead. These feelings I’m having are officially not positive ones.
The person in front of me shuffles forward, and my gaze narrows on the aisle space between the two rows of seats.
And I do mean narrow. How many inches is that opening?
Just eyeing it, I’m pretty sure my hips are wider.
I swing my shoulder bag in front of me and think skinny thoughts as I take a step forward.
The person in front of me sort of bounces off the seats like a pinball, and I take comfort in knowing that even people with thinner body types than mine find it difficult and uncomfortable to navigate this metal tube.
I shimmy down the rows, my face heating with every collection of seats I pass.
I don’t like the thoughts circling in my mind.
I’m no Austrian physicist, but even I know that trying to squeeze myself between the armrests for the duration of this flight is going to make for a very uncomfortable experience.
I don’t want to feel shame for taking up space in this world, but I also feel bad because everyone on this plane paid good money for their tickets and I can tell by their expressions as I pass that they are each holding their breath, hoping I won’t stop and take the seat next to them.
I finally do stop at row twelve and breathe a momentary sigh of relief when I see that it’s an exit row with additional legroom and no one else occupies any of the seats. Maybe the middle one will remain empty and I can have a little extra room and not spill over onto Julien.
“Folks, this is a completely full flight with limited overhead compartment space. We are asking for a few passengers who would be willing to check their carry-on for free. Flight attendants are available with luggage tags. Thank you.”
Well, there goes that hope. I stow my bag and squeeze myself between the armrests.
Julien settles himself beside me, but no matter how much I scooch, my hip and thigh are pressed firmly against his.
My cheeks are on fire now, and I hate that I want to melt right into the fabric of this chair and disappear.
Instead, I force myself to sit straighter and mentally list the things about my body that I love.
My immune system rocks. Since becoming friends with Evangeline and Hayley, I’ve learned not to take my health for granted. Because of this, I’ve been able to donate blood, plasma, and platelets. My body allows me to help save lives.
I have the ability to grow a whole human inside me. I haven’t done it, but I could, and if that isn’t a superpower, then I don’t know what is.
My legs give me so much freedom to walk around and explore the world.
My pudgy fingers are cute and dimply. My skin is soft and clear.
My lips have a nice shape to them that I think complements my face.
My eyes are a unique shade that reminds me of caramelized honey, and every time I look at them in the mirror, I think of my mother.
I even love my stomach because that’s where my organs are stored and the food that gives me energy is digested.
By the time I’ve finished, I’m feeling a little more confident.
Our third row-mate has also taken his seat.
After a few more minutes, a voice comes over the speakers, welcoming us and directing our attention to the flight attendants’ safety instructions.
I might be the only one actually watching and listening, but in the case of an emergency, I need to know what to do. Especially since I’m in the exit row.
We taxi to the runway, then wait for our turn. Waiting, it turns out, is my nemesis because it gives me time to consider all the aforementioned emergency situations that have the potential to arise.
A loud rumbling noise comes from outside, and the plane begins to vibrate. I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Have you been able to identify your feelings yet?” Julien drops his shoulder to speak into my ear.
“Definitely nervousness-slash-fear,” I croak.
A warm palm slides across my hand, startling me. My eyes open in time to watch as he threads his fingers between mine and gives them a comforting squeeze.
My pulse was already racing, my breaths coming in shallow puffs. But now? Now—
“Better?” he asks, concern etched into the lines around his eyes.
“Yes,” I lie. But I cling to him anyway.