Author's comments: Yes this actually happened to me. On the plane ride home from rehab. Crazy.

She leans forward and purses her lips, tapping her little finger on them twice. “In my family that means ‘give me a kiss’.” She says. “Oh really?” He kisses her gently. Her lips are smooth and fruity tasting, he can’t believe his luck. Of all people I could have sat next to on the plane she thinks, and smiles. He smiles back, nervously, he still isn’t sure what he’s done to make this introduction go over so well. She’s drunk. Actually she’s been drunk since before her first flight, and that was over seven hours ago. She had a few drinks before her flight, during her flight, and during her two hour layover. And now he’s buying her another. She puts the back of her hands to her freckled cheeks self-consciously, “Are my cheeks all red?” He wants to say yes – for they’re flushed as if she just ran a marathon – but he knows such a compliment would not go over well, so instead he says, “No no not at all. Maybe a little pink but it’s very cute.” She smiles and laughs because she knows the truth – that every time she drinks her ink-drop of Irish heritage shows through in a ruddy stain. In school they used to tease her until she blushed so brilliantly that they thought she had rosacea. Regardless of this, her laugh is loud yet welcoming and he can see all of her teeth in perfect rows like little phalanxes. Rubbing her cheek with his thumb he can feel how soft her face is, and inwardly kicks himself for being too lazy to shave his own earlier. But how could he have known? He’s drunk. Actually, he’s been drunk since before his first flight also, and that was about six hours ago. He drank after getting through security in Boulder, then during the flight, and again during his layover in Chicago-Midway. They don’t know this about each other. It’s a shame they didn’t because their stories have been almost identical since he left Boulder, Colorado and she left Tucson, Arizona. So as far as they both know, this is their first drink. Pity they didn’t meet in the airport! She’s afraid. So far she has only told him that she went to Tucson to visit a friend. She doesn’t want to lie any more than that, so she just hopes he doesn’t ask any more questions. The stewardess brings their drinks – vodka for her and a beer for him. She picks up the little bottle and looks it over for a moment before opening it and looking at him flirtatiously, “Cheers!” She upends the bottle and drinks the contents in one gulp, effortlessly. Just like water. That’s my kind of girl! he thinks to himself. Out of habit she wipes her mouth and simultaneously checks her breath. “Way to go, girl!” He says, taking a sip of his own drink. She ignores him and asks, “Do I smell like alcohol?” “Let me check,” he says. He wraps his hand around the back of her neck and kisses her deeply. She giggles and pushes him away, taken off guard, “You taste like beer! Gross!” He covers his mouth unconsciously and wishes he’d brought mints. Why did she have to be so damn cute? “So tell me – why are you coming back to Vermont anyway?” She asks, speaking slowly so her words don’t run together. He opens his mouth and then pauses – does he really want to tell her? He’s ashamed of himself. Not just for getting so out of control but for putting himself in danger. Not just himself either, that’s the shameful part. “Just to visit family,” he lies. He decides to leave out the DIU, the car crash, and the fact that even though he’s 26 years old, he still runs home to his mother when things get scary. “Cool.” She nods approvingly. A guy in touch with his family – she likes that. He needs to take the spotlight off him so he asks, “How long were you in Arizona? You’ve got quite a tan.” He holds his arm next to hers to compare, not noticing that her jaw has stiffened and her eyes, turned down at the corners, seem sad. “Six weeks.” She replies stiffly. “Six weeks?” he looks at her in surprise, “That’s a long visit! Lucky you!” She smiles wanly, not even attempting to hide her discomfort, “Yeah I guess so.” Now he can tell something is wrong, but doesn’t know what. To avoid further offending her somehow he just stays quiet for a moment. Sure enough she relaxes a bit and snuggles against him. She tilts her face up to his ear and he closes his eyes, waiting for a soft nibble or bite on his earlobe. “I just got out of rehab,” she whispers instead. He eyes snap open and his smile fades until his lips are shaped in a perfect “o”. He looks at her, absolutely horrified. He searches her face for sarcasm, for some sign that what she’s just admitted is just a joke. She stares right back, waiting for him to challenge her. Finally he says meekly, “Oh. Really?” “Mmm hmm.” She nods. They both eye the now empty vodka bottle sitting on the seat back tray-table in front of her. Before he can say anything else she grabs his beer and takes a long swig of it – all the while she never takes her eyes off him. “Wow I uh, feel kinda bad now.” He isn’t sure what else to say. What else is there to say, really? Words would fail anyone in this situation. She looks down at her hands. He can see she’s struggling for composure, and sure enough her lips fold back in a forced smile. She looks up at him and gives him a quick nod that comes across as more of a neck spasm, as if to say that’s what I thought. “I’m sorry - ” “Don’t be sorry.” She interrupts briskly. He is silent again, feeling shut down. The warmth and friendliness he’s felt radiating from her earlier is gone – replaced by a melancholy and brooding darkness that he’s realizing he doesn’t know anything about. But he wants to know. A long stretch of silence goes by. She keeps sipping his beer and he doesn’t stop her. He doesn’t know if he should. She clears her throat and says softly, “You didn’t even ask what I was there for.” His head whips around at the concept that alcohol might not even be involved. He looks at her with longing. “Please tell me?” After another long pause she opens her mouth to reply but he takes a chance and interrupts her, “Look it doesn’t matter what you say alright? Seriously I can’t judge you either way, you have to know that.” He imagines his jeep back in Colorado, wheels still spinning in the sky. I’m no better than you he wants to say. “Alright,” she shrugs and leaves it at that, “As long as you’re sure you don’t mind?” He shakes his head fervently. She smiles. “Tell me about Colorado.” She’s not going to tell me. He smiles to himself and shakes his head slowly. “What?” She thinks she’s said something wrong and recoils away from him. “No, no,” he touches her arm reassuringly, “Don’t worry about it. Colorado is awesome. It was still snowing when I left actually…” They spend the rest of the flight chatting like old friends and new lovers. They compare the dry desert of Arizona to the snowy mountains of Colorado. He flirts with her and she flirts back. He strokes her arm and she laughs, they kiss and bow their heads together to tell each other things privately. Other passengers on the plane roll their eyes. Ignorant youth, they think. But the strangers do not notice. They’re too busy looking at each other. After the flight, after bags have been retrieved and numbers have been exchanged, they stand waiting to go their separate ways. He searches her face for answers. He wants to ask but is not sure how. He knows he shouldn’t. She knows this. They hug and kiss goodbye, and he promises to call soon. As he is walking away, cursing his cowardice, he hears someone call out. “Hey!” He whirls around and searches the crowd for her, she stands in the crowd like a time lapse picture – standing in one place as the crowd swarms around her. He waits. She smiles and waves goodbye. Then, she turns and disappears into the crowd.

If you would like to read more of this book or short story, then you can contact the Author using the following e-mail address: Dragongirl_1285@yahoo.com