Wicked Wednesday #119 — Wrong Number

Severine sat on the plane moments before passengers were allowed on. There was a small meeting, as there was a new flight attendant, Barbara. Eleanora, her former nemesis cum co-worker had given her pause to stop thinking about her own life events. Apparently, Eleanora had been conducting an affair with one of the married pilots. Severine had noticed they seemed especially close, but figured it was because Eleanora was an exceptional flirt. But she had sexted him and sent the picture accidentally to his wife–his wife’s mobile was one number different than his. His wife was close with his bosses, and Eleanora was immeadiately terminated.
Severine could not say she was unhappy to see her go, as she got up to walk over to Barbara and start welcoming passengers onboard. As each passenger went by, she was reminded that Oscar was not going to be on the flight. It made her sad. She had not been on an airplane without him since they met.
New York had been everything she expected it to be. Seeing their previous lovers was a good thing, it made them not think heavily about what they were together. They could just be, and not hurt each other. He had dinner with her the night after she had spent the night with Rafe, asked her how she was.
As much as she had tried to resist Rafe, she broke down as soon as she saw him in the bathroom while she was out to dinner with Oscar. She fell apart and even as she broke down, she tried to have a semblance of togetherness.
But it was not there.
The first time they had sex, she tried to be blasé…but the next time when Rafe tugged at her hair and choked her the way she liked, she could no longer resist him. She kissed everything of him her lips could touch. Her lips went everywhere on him, but love she would not declare. She no longer believed in love, everything she knew of it was so easily broken. Love was a myth like unicorns, or maybe it had existed once like dodo birds. But for her it was nonexistent. Sex was another thing, sex was very much alive and well.
Ubiquitous.
When every passenger was accounted for, she closed the door of the aircraft bound for Paris. She was very happy to be working the flight, and going home. New York was lovely. Her English was lovelier too, though heavily accented. But Paris was home. There was no place like home, sitting in her favorite café and lingering forever over a coffee.
Though she knew that if she closed her eyes, she would remember Oscar sitting beside her…or if she looked down in her cup, a tear might escape for Rafe.

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photo by f dot leonora