I think of the teenager she would have been, pregnant, and then suddenly without a baby, and I wonder at the boyfriend who got her pregnant. I wonder if he supported her and helped her with her grief. I wonder if her dad, in his alcoholism, was capable of providing words of support.
‘Will you miss your work?’
She props her chin on my chest, her eyes drugged by satiation. My ego swells. I like seeing her like that and knowing I’m the reason for it.
‘The cabin crew stuff?’
I make a small shift of my head that passes as a nod.
‘In some ways,’ she says quietly. ‘I wanted to see the world as a kid, and my job’s enabled me to do that.’ She walks her fingers over my chest, capturing my hand in hers, holding it as though it’s an object of value, stroking it gently.
‘Where in particular?’ It’s small talk, but I feel like she needs it. Or maybe I do. It’s casual and easy, which is what I probably should have kept this all along. Knowing things about her, important things, makes me uncomfortable, like she’s trusted me with something I can’t deliver.
‘The pyramids.’ Her smile is sweet, self-deprecating. ‘As a child, that was the “ultimate” experience. I ticked it off my list two years into the job.’
‘What else was on your list?’
‘Oh, everywhere. I’ve been to so many places.’
‘Such as?’
‘Morocco, Rome, Paris, Tokyo, New York, London, Singapore, Cairo, Belgium—just about everywhere.’
‘And where have you missed?’
‘The Northern Lights,’ she says with a sigh. ‘I went to Canada once, thinking I’d see them, but I didn’t time it right. The night wasn’t clear enough. That’s definitely something I want to experience at least once.’
‘They’re spectacular.’
‘You’ve been?’
‘Mmm.’ I shift my hand out of hers, lifting it so I can reach for the glass of water on my side of the bed. I take a drink then rearrange myself, propping up on one elbow so I can see her better.
‘And are they breathtaking?’
You are breathtaking. The words swirl through me but I don’t say them. Instead, somewhat gruffly, I admit, ‘Yes. As you would imagine.’
She sighs, flopping back on the bed. ‘I’m jealous.’
‘You’ll get there.’
‘I know. It’ll be harder now I’m not flying. As cabin crew, it wasn’t such a big deal to jump on a crew seat and travel wherever I wanted.’
‘Is that why you took a job doing this?’
‘I didn’t take a job doing this.’ She gestures to our naked bodies and smiles at me, a smile that sparks a clunky reaction inside of my chest.
‘No?’ I return it, and the feeling is so spontaneous and so overwhelmingly natural that I swallow it almost immediately.
‘Nope.’ Her own smile shifts, and a small sigh escapes her lips. ‘It seemed like the easiest way to see the world.’ She nods. ‘I had a friend who’d got a job for Australian Air, and she recommended I apply. I did well at school, and I had a lot of hospitality experience. I was fortunate to get a placement straight away, doing domestic routes during my training and then onto international.’
‘I doubt “fortune” had anything to do with it. You strike me as someone who’d be excellent at your job.’
She laughs. ‘I slept with you when I was working for you.’
‘It’s different.’
‘Is it?’