Airplane

Airplane

I watched as my home drifted beneath me. With a flip in my stomach, we soared into the air. I stared out the window as pavement morphed into houses, the buzz of LA traffic, the blue abyss, and finally though the thickness of the clouds.

My ticket read Seat 36C. The ticket was crumpled from being shoved from the printer, to my purse, to my computer bag, to my jacket, through the security machine, to my jeans pocket, and to my anxious hands. I'm surprised that it didn't get lost from my bedroom to Seat 36C.

I lugged my carryon beside me, the crease at my elbow cramping from the strain. I didn't want to risk lost luggage, so I stuffed my life into my chlorine abused high school water polo bag. The thing must be at least ten years old. I kept bag close to my side, yet it bumped into seats and snagged on arm rests. 

I made it to my seat, tapping the man on the end. "Hi there, I'm the window seat here." He pulled out his head phones and look up at me quizzically.

 I waved my ticket and he hastily unbuckled his seat belt saying, "Oh, sorry about that! Here let me help you with that bag." He was tall, taller than me and that was saying a lot. I'm six feet tall and a quarter inch, just in case anyone today decided to ask.

He lifted the bag above his head, his muscles bulging from his t-shirt. The hem of his shirt hiked up showing his navel. I flushed and look away. 

"Ah!" 

The man was tucking the bag in when something feel out from the bag's pockets, smacking him in the eye. I hastily bent down to pick up the item and his hand met mine. 

"What do we have here?" He joked, the other hand rubbing his head. I looked at his hand and quickly snatched it from his fingers. 

"It's just a keep sake." It was my pouch of rocks. This perfectly good looking strangers was going to think I was a total weirdo. I carried around a sack of rocks and he got hit in the face by them. 

"You carry around rocks?"

"Yeah, long story." I watched him close the door to the overhead bin and wave me to sit down in my seat. 

"We have five hours until we reach Michigan."

"You're pretty persistent in knowing my life story for being a perfect stranger. You know that?"

"What can I say? You intrigue me." He smiled at me, his cheeks dimpling and the creases around his eyes folding. The man had reddish brown hair that was ruffled everywhere. He was freckled everywhere including his long fingers that danced around on the arm rest. 

"I feel like this is one sided. I don't even know your name."

"Its Aaron. I'm assuming your name is Emma Jenkins?"

"How..."

"It was sewed on your bag."

"That makes sense." My face turned pink and my ears felt hot. I couldn't help but wonder why he was so interested.

"So tell me about the rocks, Emma."

"Well it's going to sound ridiculous.."

"I was guessing it might, who weighs down their bag with rocks?" I huffed and squinted my eyes.

"I do. I collect them."

"You collect rocks?"

"Everywhere I go, I pick up a rock. Instead of a post card or something. Say I visit the Eiffel Tower, I'll pick up a pebble right beneath it and than I'm label it. That was I can see everywhere I've been."

"Fascinating. How many have you collected?"

"Hundreds. You see, I'm a travel writer, so I visit new places all the time."

"You don't live in LA or Michigan?"

"No, technically I don't live anywhere. My parents are from Delaware, but I just hop from place to place."

"That must get lonely."

"No, I get to meet new people everyday."

"Like me!"

"Exactly." We shared a smile. 

So now you know my weirdest hobby, tell me your story."

"I am one of nine sibling from Southgate, MI. I moved to LA for my photography career. I'm still waiting for it to kick start, so in the mean time I mostly photograph weddings."

"Photography, I've always wanted to learn."

A stewardess pushed a cart to us, "Would you like anything to drink?"

"I'll have a tomato juice," Aaron said, pulling down his tray table. I followed suit.

"And you Miss?"

"Could I get a ginger ale?"

"Certainly," the stewardess handed us our drinks. Mine fizzled and when I brought in to my lips to sip it, the carbonated bubbles snapped at the tip of my nose. 

The two of us continued to talk and I never even got the chance to pull out my book in my purse. Aaron had a fascinating life, moving from Michigan fresh out of high school with no money or plan. His determination was refreshing. He was refreshing. He talked with excitement about his own life and showed intense interest with mine. 

I wondered if I'd ever see him again and I voiced this as we deciding through the clouds. He took my hand and said of course we'd see each other again. Aaron leaned over and grabbed his napkin and pulled out a pen from his pocket. He scribbled his number and asked for mine as well, in case one of us lost the numbers. 

As we exited the plane, I wondered if we'd ever really speak again. We parted ways at the carrousel and he hugged me tightly. I felt a longing to find a rock at our feet to remember the fleeting memory. Shouldering the strap of my bag, I exited to airport, longing that we both felt certainty that we would meet again.