Chapter Twenty-Three Claire #2
Liam doesn’t appear offended. He listens with rapt attention and even nods along.
“I’m sorry for your friend, but I’ve never had anyone expect me to mug them before.
I guess my clothing style has changed now that I’m serving the homeless community, but usually people know I’m a pastor and put up different kinds of defenses. ”
I exhale, relieved I didn’t offend him. How would I have treated him if I’d known he was a pastor?
I probably would have put on my best behavior, then brushed him off the way I always do with the missionaries who come door to door.
“I can imagine. Though I wish I’d known. Then I might not have broken my toe.”
His facial features spread in surprise. Eyebrows up, jaw down. He tilts back to look down at my foot. “I’m the reason you’re in a walking boot?”
I shrug. “Better than retina surgery, right?”
“Oh . . . no . . .” He scans the rest of the table, perhaps checking to see if everyone else was already aware of my injury.
Nobody else shares his shocked expression, so he turns back to me.
“You told me to leave you alone, so I headed into 7-Eleven for a bathroom break, then ended up discussing faith with a salesclerk. I didn’t see you hurt yourself. Did you fall?”
“Yes.” I share a smirk with Nathan. “I’m recovering now. Just can’t run for a while. Or wear heels.” I’d ordered ballet flats, which is symbolic in itself, and they should be arriving any day.
Liam shakes his head, like he’s to blame for my pain. “I’ll have to be more careful in approaching strangers from now on.”
“Or shave your beard,” Vincent jokes.
Desiree waves him off. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just jealous because pilots aren’t allowed to grow beards.”
Liam chuckles with them, then faces me again. “Again, I’m sorry.”
“No.” I frown. “I’m sorry.”
Nathan lifts a shoulder, and his gaze slides knowingly from me to Liam. “You’re lucky she didn’t attack you with a soda in a sock.”
Liam blinks. “A what?”
“Never mind him.” I playfully kick Nathan under the table. “What he means is that you’re lucky I didn’t deliver the palm strike or knee-to-groin moves he trained me to do for self-defense.”
Liam winces. “Very lucky.” He sits straighter. “You know, we all have preconceived beliefs about other people. We don’t have them because we’re stupid. We have them because they’ve been true in our past.”
I tilt my head, as if to help my brain process.
I’d never thought about preconceived beliefs that way before, but it makes sense.
I mean, I get it as a flight attendant almost every day.
I’m expected to be a snooty alcoholic who sleeps around.
And sure, there are some flight attendants out there giving us a bad reputation, but there are also retired police officers who want to become pilots and retired ballet dancers who hope that having their head in the clouds will help them dream again.
“It’s funny,” Liam continues, “since we’re joking about a pastor being misperceived as a mugger, but we all do this when we get hurt. It’s a way of protecting ourselves rather than doing the hard work to find healing.”
Angel shifts on her seat and looks out the window. “Huh.”
I wonder if she’s thinking about the pilot she dated compared to the pilot she’s dating now.
It would be unfair of her to take the whole don’t-date-pilots-period approach, like Vivienne is taking.
We should discern character based on a person’s own merits rather than judge them for reminding us of harm from our past. And also, she’d really be doing me a favor if she keeps dating Nathan.
“That’s a good point, baby.” Desiree clicks her tongue.
“I honestly never wanted to become a flight attendant, because I’d heard so many crazy stories about entitled passengers and whatnot.
I had a really bad attitude at first. I refused to help anyone put their bags in the overhead bin, and if someone asked for an upgrade, I’d get on the PA and tell them I’d saved them a seat on the wing. ”
And I’d thought she’d given me the cold shoulder.
Nathan nods. “I’ve heard her say that.”
Vincent laughs the loudest. “She was there only to hang out with me and save their sorry souls in the event of an emergency.”
“What changed?” I ask. Because the Desiree I worked with had been befriending everyone but me.
She gives me a real smile. “An unaccompanied minor threw up.”
“Protein spill,” Angel says. “That’s what made me want to quit.”
“Ew.” I’m not looking forward to that experience.
“A normal reaction.” Desiree laughs. “But when I got out of my jump seat after a turbulent landing and headed to remind my unaccompanied minor not to get off the plane without me, I saw what resembled blue-berry yogurt all over the seat. The poor kid was crying. He’d filled up a water bottle with vomit before it exploded everywhere else. ”
Angel gags. Or maybe it’s her reflux issues.
“Good thing we’re not eating right now,” Vincent teases.
“But in that moment . . .” Desiree holds up a finger. “I found purpose. I became ‘plane mama.’”
My heart melts a little for her and the identity I’ve seen her take on wholeheartedly. Makes me feel like I’m getting closer to finding mine.
Desiree was a mother to begin with. She possessed that particular skill set. It fulfilled her. Where do I fit in?
My gaze wanders to Nathan. Perhaps because he’d lost his dream too but is now getting a second chance with Angel.
His eyes meet mine, but not with the spark of joy I’d expected. And while he seems comfortable with Angel, the two of them aren’t fizzling over with chemistry. In fact, his dark eyes appear a little sad. I try to read him more deeply, but he glances toward Liam, and I realize the pastor is talking.
“That’s beautiful, Desiree.” Liam nods. “Serving the less fortunate is one of the best ways to find healing, because it takes our minds off our own pain.”
“Speaking of service . . .” Vincent clears the area in front of him, sliding his utensils and water glass out of the way to make room for food.
Our waitress appears amid the tantalizing scents of all the meats. She balances a tray on one hand and sets my plate down first. The large white dish overflows with crispy chicken, a cup of coleslaw, and shoestring potatoes.
While it’s probably true that we can find our healing while serving, there’s also something to be said for the gift of being served. And I am ready to partake of whatever that is.
An air raid siren rips through the air. I jump, then remember it’s the special ringtone I gave Crew Scheduling. My first good restaurant in Seattle, and I’m being called out.