I nodded to let her know it was okay.
I kept whispering our counting games while a familiar voice in my head asked whether I should’ve fought harder for our original seats.
Was this whole trip a mistake?
Meanwhile, I could see the back of Ms. Reyes’s head in 7A.
She had her phone up, angling it toward the window, snapping selfie after selfie with the clouds behind her.
I should’ve fought harder.
***
Lisa came through with the drink cart, and I watched her eyes linger on Ms. Reyes for just a beat longer than they should have. She didn’t offer her a smile. She didn’t offer her anything. She just kept rolling.
I watched as the flight attendant reached row 19. She paused beside the couple she’d spoken with during boarding.
She leaned in briefly, exchanged a few quiet words, and one of them glanced toward Emma before giving another reassuring nod. Lisa appeared to thank them with a warm smile before continuing down the aisle.
I watched her eyes linger.
I noticed it only in passing before turning my attention back to Emma.
“Look at Mr. Buzz,” I said, holding up the little stuffed plane she’d been squeezing since takeoff. “He’s flying with us.”
Emma’s whimper softened, just a little.
About 90 minutes into the flight, the public address system crackled.
Emma’s whimper softened.
The captain’s voice filled the cabin, but something about his tone caught my ear.
It was calm, measured, and unmistakably deliberate.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. I am Captain Brown. Before we continue our flight, I’d like to take a brief moment to recognize an act that reminds us who we all have the opportunity to be when we travel together.”
A ripple of curiosity spread through the cabin.
His tone caught my ear.
Captain Brown continued, “To the passenger sitting in seat 7A, we have a special gift for you. You’re our airline’s 400th passenger!”
Lisa was already walking down the aisle, carrying a neatly wrapped box, her expression composed.
She stopped beside row 7.
Ms. Reyes immediately lifted her phone, smiling broadly.
“Oh my goodness,” she laughed. “I can’t believe this!”
“You’re our airline’s 400th passenger!”
The flight attendant handed Ms. Reyes the box.
I turned back toward Emma, adjusting her headphones.
Whatever was happening up there didn’t matter to me.
My daughter was hanging by a thread, and I was hanging on with her.
I turned back toward Emma.
Ms. Reyes was smiling until she opened the box.
Then I heard it.
A sharp, wounded shriek cut through the cabin.
“HOW DARE YOU?!”
I froze.
Emma’s head snapped up, and even through the headphones I saw her eyes widen.
Passengers turned toward row 7 in shock to see what had happened.
Then I heard it.
Ms. Reyes stood halfway out of her seat, the box open in her hands, her face shifting from pink to crimson.
Across the aisle, the older woman slowly lowered her magazine.
“Well,” she murmured. “That’s interesting.”
I still didn’t understand what had happened.
I stood partially out of my seat, like most of the other passengers.
