Nevertheless, I wanted to make the most of the happiness the night had provided me with and to avoid any awkwardness between us, I had chosen another position on the plane and had worked in economy with Megan. My passengers were spoiled with my extreme joy as I was smiling and laughing away with them, and was attending to their every need. I was on the verge of frenzy. That fact was confirmed when I had to serve them what irritated me the most: tomato juice.
“What would you like to drink?” I asked the man in seat 18A, by the window.
“What do you have?”
Normally, that question would have really annoyed me. Seriously? This is the third time I’ve been down the aisle in six hours. I still have the same selection as the time before, and the time before that, and the time before the time before that! Then, I would have exasperatedly smiled at the man, rapidly listing some of the items: “Water, juices, sodas, coffee, and tea.” However, that day, it was different.
“I have a few juices, some sodas, water, coffee, and tea” I slowly said.
“What kind of sodas do you have?” he pressed on.
“7UP, Pepsi, Ginger Ale, Diet Pepsi.”
“And what kind of juice?”
Normally, I would have hastily presented him with two choices: apple and orange. I would have, obviously, omitted to mention the tomato juice, knowing very well the inevitable aftermath. Strangely, that day was different.
“I have apple, orange, and tomato juice.”
“Ah! I’ll have a tomato juice, then,” declared Mr.A.
“Very well.” I smiled.
I served the chosen liquid without a word and offered it to him. I continued on to his neighbors.
“And for you?” I asked the couple seated in B and C.
“Hm, why not have some tomato juice? One each!”
Still on cloud nine, I served them two glasses of tomato juice, spattering a bit on my white shirt. I wiped the couple drops with a cloth without worrying too much about it and handed the glasses over to Mrs. B and Mr. C. Then, I moved on to the passenger seated across, in the middle section of the cabin.
“What would you like to drink?”
“A tomato juice,” said the young lady at 18D.
“All right, one tomato juice coming right up!” I said, officially announcing that we had tomato juice on board the aircraft.
I poured some more tomato juice and handed it to Miss D. I then attended to the old man seated behind her.
“What would you like to drink?”
“A tomato juice,” he answered.
Still unfazed, I started pouring the liquid. Suddenly, my tomato juice carton was empty, leaving me with a glass half full. Normally, I would have sighed and advised the passenger that I was out of tomato juice in my cart, offering him an apple juice instead. This time, though, I chose the hard-work option.
“Megan, do you have tomato juice?” I asked my colleague.
“No, I just finished it.”
It was most likely due to my public announcement. I still had time, without even having to lie, to advise Mr. 19 that I was out of tomato juice. But no! I had decided to overcome all obstacles. I called out to my colleague in the other aisle:
“Diane!”
No reaction.
“Diane! Diane! Diane!”
She was not hearing me at all. I should have known. She was always lost, that one. I called out to her colleague:
“Erik!”
He turned toward me. I quietly mouthed my request: tomato juice. I had finally gotten a reality check and had realized that those words should not be pronounced out loud. Erik understood my request and discreetly passed a carton of the precious liquid over. I served Mr. 19 and came back down to Earth.
How will I talk to John? What am I gonna say to him? I couldn’t ask anything of him, nothing he hadn’t already given me. I finished the service and decided not to attempt anything. I had already done enough anyway. And, if John wants me, he can just tell me.
◆◆◆
“What did you buy for fifty dollars?” asked the customs officer.
“Olive oil and a sweater.”
“That’s all?” she insisted, with an investigatory tone implying, I don’t believe you, you air hostess traveling all around the world!
“Yes,” I confirmed.
She wrote a cryptic code on my declaration card and handed it back to me. I had never successfully deciphered the meaning of all the fateful codes. I went down to the baggage area and then out the exit. Luckily, I didn’t get searched. I was walking quickly since John had gone through customs before me. We still hadn’t said a word to each other. Only smiles, which probably didn’t mean anything. He was just a few yards ahead of me and walked slowly. Perhaps he was waiting for me? Either way, I was on his heels.
When we got to the employee bus, we were alone. What a fortunate coincidence! I thought. We would have time to talk. We sat across from each other. I was nervous. What would I say to him? John, I want more . . . ? And then what? I want to be your mistress and always come second? Was that what I really wanted? No! Of course not!
Just as the door was about to close, I saw Sebastian, the first officer, come on board. Ah, dammit! He’s gonna ruin everything! He sat next to John and started chatting with him.
“Wow! What a nice flight! Not a hint of turbulence! We even managed to land early.”
“Yeah,” John answered simply, looking at me.
“When are you working again?” asked Sebastian.
“A week from now,” he answered, without throwing the question back at him.
Ah! That Sebastian guy is annoying! I shrugged at John to indicate my indifference toward his first officer’s words. He inconspicuously smiled at me.
“Yeah, you’re lucky to have a week off. I work again tomorrow,” went on Sebastian.
“Oh, yeah, that’s too bad,” said John, impartial.
“And, above all, I’m going back to Dublin!”
“Hm.”
Quite evidently, my captain’s mind was elsewhere. And seeing him stare at me, I knew very well where it was. Sebastian, not noticing a thing, continued with his monologue. I was just hoping that John would get off at the same stop as me so that we could finally talk.
When we arrived in the parking area, he was still intensely staring at me. He took advantage of his work partner’s short moment of distraction to flash one last smile. A smile full of hopelessness. And then, ever so discreetly, he moved his lips to say something. You’re beautiful, he mouthed. From that, I understood that he didn’t regret a thing. I sealed my lips to indicate there wasn’t anything more to say. He had his life, and I couldn’t be part of it. I didn’t want to be. Not that way.
The bus made a first stop. The door opened but no one got out. Then I realized that sooner rather than later it would be my stop, or his. Who knew when I’d see him again? In a month, six months, a year, maybe two? I had no idea. And it saddened me.
The bus abruptly halted at the second stop. It was mine. John remained seated. I wanted to stay on the bus and accompany him to his car but I was already standing. I didn’t want to raise any suspicion. Sebastian also got up. He waved to us both and quickly got off. I then realized my opportunity to sit back down. I hesitated. It was no longer up to me to trigger anything. I had done my part.
I said bye to John the way a simple colleague does and made my way to the exit. But before I could make it, the door closed in front of me. The driver hadn’t seen me and was getting ready to drive off again. Go back to your seat, Scarlett! It’s a sign! said the little voice. Scarlett, it’s up to him to make a move now. Leave! advised the other voice. I was still hesitating. Get out! commanded the last voice.
“Excuse me! Sir! I’d like to get off! Open the door!” I yelled from the middle of the bus.
John was still observing me silently. He smiled at me one more time and watched me get off the bus, my head low.
As I set foot outside, I felt an extreme emptiness wash over me. The one and
only man I had been obsessed with for so long was, again, getting far away from me. I didn’t know when I would see him again. I wasn’t ready to count the days or the months before seeing my handsome captain again. Neither was I ready to go through another detox to try and get over him. I had to face the facts: I was hungry for John’s love. I wanted to taste every inch of his body, drink his every thought, his every word. I had just left him, yet his absence seemed unbearable. I had had enough of waiting around. I had to find a cure to my pain. From then on, only my own well-being mattered. Living another year without him was out of the question. No thanks!
◆◆◆
When I came through the door, Becky was waiting impatiently. She had left me two voicemails, begging me to call her as soon as I landed so that I could tell her everything that had happened. I had promised to tell her everything once I got home, which is what I did. After many long and detailed explanations, Becky gave me a big hug, pretty much congratulating me for having broken my convictions and having followed my heart. She was proud of me. As for me, I didn’t really know what to think. I only knew that I still had John under my skin and was determined to quench my thirst. I asked my best friend for advice:
“Becky, what should I do now?”
“Do you think he wants to see you again?”
“I don’t know. For now, the only thing I’m certain of is that I want more.”
“You have to talk to him and tell him how you feel.”
“What is that gonna change in this whole situation?”
“Well, Scarlett! You just told me you wanted more. He’s married and will probably stay married. But if you want more, you have to find out if he does as well. And then, I don’t know . . . you’ll see when you get there, right?”
“You’re right,” I conceded.
“Do you have his phone number?”
“Nope.”
Becky considered my options.
“Well, there’s always his work email,” she informed me.
“Yes! How do I find out what it is?”
“Nothing easier! It’s our full name, separated by a dot, and followed by @americair.com.”
“Great! You’re awesome, Becky!” I exclaimed, sitting down in front of my laptop.
Where would I start? I miss you, John? I’m considering becoming your mistress? I’m throwing my principles and my code of conduct out the window for you? I decided to let my heart speak. It often provided the best results. Once I had finished drafting the email, I read it to Becky.
To: John Ross
From: Scarlett Lambert
Date: July 7, 2017
Subject: . . .
Hi John,
I’m not sure if I’m crossing the line in writing you this email. I tried not to do it but, really, I couldn’t help it.
I waited a whole year to see you again and frankly, I don’t want to wait another one. I’m shaken in the same way I was after seeing you in Paris and Barcelona. But this time feels worse because I know what I’m missing.
I think of you and wonder: Will we ever live a night together like that again?
Scarlett
I immediately looked at Becky, hoping to get her approval.
“Excellent! It’s moving, yet straight to the point,” she assured me.
“Ah, really?”
“Yes! Go, send it!” she ordered.
“Are you sure?” I still hesitated.
“YES! A hundred percent sure! Send!”
I hovered the mouse over the send button. I closed my eyes, hoped I wasn’t making a huge mistake, and clicked the fateful button.
Chapter 22
Lyon (LYS)
Crying. It is just so exhausting! Especially when one cries many times a day, for a month. And that’s exactly what I had just done: cried my eyes out for a man. For that John Ross who didn’t even bother kindly replying to my message. Bastard! Men… they’re all the same! I had thought a thousand times. As soon as they get what they want, they just ditch you . . . I was completely destroyed but didn’t really have the right to be. Regardless of having spent only one night with him, I was going through a heartbreak. And, my sad state had bad timing since I had been flying non-stop for a month, to destinations that weren’t the best, which made the matter worse every day. I hit rock bottom a month after having sent my unreplied-to email.
We had just landed in Lyon, France. I hated that destination and had tried everything I could to avoid seeing the letters LYS appear on my schedule. I hadn’t succeeded. The reason for my hatred had nothing to do with the city itself. Not at all. The food in Lyon was delicious and so were the Rhône wines. My disdain was actually rooted in the hotel we slept in: the Château Perrache.
To be honest, I thought it was haunted. Many spooky stories were being told about it around the airline. Some colleagues said they had seen a woman watching them in the middle of the night, some had caught a glimpse of a shadow in the television screen, while others had woken up to find that objects weren’t where they had been left. All I knew was that the hotel terrified me so much I was never able to fall asleep.
My urge to cry surfaced again when I entered the hotel’s main hall that day. Half of my sadness was caused by a man and the other half was due to the horrifying hotel itself. The place scared the shit out of me. And with reason! It had been requisitioned by German authorities during World War II for its Gestapo siege. According to history, the room in which I was going to sleep might have witnessed many interrogations of Hitler’s opposing party members. Worse, a Jew may have been tortured or even killed in that room. My imagination was playing up again.
I got into the shower. I smelled like aircraft and had to purify myself. Under the water, I could think, or rather, scold myself again: Scarlett, you should have known that John wasn’t going to reply. Why would he? He can’t. Never could. He only let himself be tempted that evening in Dublin because you were physically there. And a little bit of alcohol had contributed to your success. That’s all. You have to forget him now. He’s a thing of the past. At least you had a little taste.
That’s what the problem was! I had had a taste. I had touched his lips, his body. I had felt a passion that had made me feel so good I couldn’t stop thinking about it. My desire had only grown since. I was far from satiated like I had imagined I would be. I knew that one could be addicted to Pepsi but I hadn’t realized that I would be even more obsessed with John, my own Pepsi, as soon as I had consumed him. I was madly enamored. As I turned the water off, I started crying for the thousandth time.
When I set my foot down on the bathmat, my attention was immediately drawn to the steamed mirror facing me. Typical of any horror movie. Suddenly, I hallucinated an invisible finger tracing a heart on the water vapor. More tears came rushing out. Why me? At that moment, I wished I had never met John. Ever!
Night came, I tried to sleep, but in vain. I couldn’t manage to fall asleep. Perhaps it was because I had left the light on? I didn’t want to turn it off, fearing the darkness. The hot August air was suffocating and the air conditioning wasn’t cooling the room down. I decided to get up and wander down to the main hall in my pajamas.
The hallways’ ancient wooden floors were cracking under my steps. I had the impression of being followed by someone. I accelerated the pace and reached the front desk in no time. Not really knowing how to kill time, and since the hotel’s Wi-Fi wasn’t complimentary, I decided to use their free Internet.
“Good evening, monsieur, is it still possible to use the computers at this time?” I asked the man at reception.
“Of course, madam,” he answered, before showing me to the minuscule business center.
I thought I would browse travel blogs and daydream a little to take my mind off things, but first I decided to check my emails. I most likely wouldn’t have any new messages since I had just checked my mailbox before leaving the airport, but it had become a habit to check any time I was in front of a screen.
>
I logged in to my email account. To my biggest surprise, it showed two new messages. I stopped breathing. At last, a message from John! Even better: two! My heart started pumping excessively fast and I started sweating. I hadn’t even read anything yet and I was already happy. I finally had an answer! No matter what it was, I would accept it. I opened the first message.
From: John Ross
To: Scarlett Lambert
Date: August 14, 2017
Subject: Re: . . .
Scarlett,
I read your email just as I’m about to get on a flight.
Apologies for the delay, I only look at my work emails once a month.
To answer your message, yes, I am still deeply moved by our evening together, and yes, I do think of you. I hadn’t planned what happened between us and the last thing I want is to hurt you, or give you false hopes that would hurt you even more.
My children are my priority and I should have controlled myself to avoid all of this. Easy, you might say, but it wasn’t the case. You showed up in my life out of the blue, for a reason I still ignore. But believe me, I had a lot to lose in this story and I am taking full responsibility.
Scarlett, I hope to see you again soon to tell you all of this in person. I’m thinking of you and wish you all the happiness you deserve.
John
I was relieved. His answer wasn’t what I had hoped for but I had to accept it. I appreciated that John had mentioned his concerns about our impossible situation. He couldn’t give me more. I didn’t blame him. At the very least, I knew he was thinking about me and had taken the time to respond. In fact, he had done so as soon as he had read my message, as opposed to what I had previously assumed. I read his email three times. And then I suddenly remembered I had another one. How could I have forgotten? With no further ado, I read it carefully.
Call Me Stewardess Page 21