Breaking Free

It’s funny, really, how life can take you where you never expected to go.

“Well, honey, I’m sorry,” my husband’s voice sounded, effectively shattering my daydream about us laying on a beach on a warm, sunny day, just him, me, and the endless blue ocean stretched out before us; we were happy like we’d once been.

I blinked a couple times as I struggled to focus upon the reality of my surroundings: a small airport based near our hometown of Snakestone, Washington.

“Why are you sorry?” I asked him innocently, without thinking.

The look of annoyance that flashed briefly across his face alerted me to the fact that I had missed some important information. He hated repeating stuff. His tone, when he replied, was kept light given our public location, but I'd heard the anger behind it; I knew that anger very well.

“I couldn’t find a ticket for myself on this flight, so I have to take the next one. You however, have a seat in coach, which is all they had left available. I know you struggle with anxiety, and thus, I’m sorry.”

Oh, okay. His stare was that of judgment, questioning my mental capabilities. I tried not to let it get to me; Kyle was usually moody during travel…it didn’t mean anything...

“Sorry, Kyle, I just got caught up in my thoughts again. That’s fine.”

He brightened and I was able to relax; the storm had merely passed by this time. Good.

“Great! Here you go,” he offered me the ticket and pressed a kiss to my head as I took the piece of paper. “It leaves in an hour so you might want to get going.”

I offered him a smile, leaned up for a kiss (he’s six feet two, I’m five feet seven), feared that he’d reject me, and was relieved when he accepted it. It was a short kiss, but a kiss, nonetheless.

And so, onward I went.

I found the gate easily. Since the plane was already boarding, I went ahead and got on. My anxiety was already on the rise; planes make me nervous. No, it wasn’t my first time flying, but that didn’t mean I liked flying. I hated it, in fact. I would’ve driven if such a thing were possible but we were vacationing on a remote island near Greece so driving wasn’t an option; at least, not an affordable one.

I knew the best thing to do was distract myself so I focused on settling into my spot on the plane, sure the plane would fill up in no time. Weird thing was, by the time we did take off, a large percentage of the plane was rather empty, including my row, which, on a good note, brought my anxiety back down to a nice, bearable level.

It was too bad that such peace couldn’t have lasted.

The plane spent four hours going from Washington to Michigan, which is where those empty seats became filled, all except the ones near me; only one of those got filled by a guy who was far too cute for my own good (hello social anxiety, nice to see you again). Still, I was polite to him, and was surprised when he was very cordial back at me, seeming to be genuinely pleased to meet me like he'd said.

His name was Alec, wasn’t that such a nice name? Alec. He had these cute, slim, rimless, rectangular glasses that went over beautiful dark brown eyes; his dark brown hair was kept medium-short and looked so soft that I actually wanted to run my hands through it. I kept my hands to myself, of course, because I wasn't crazy. Well…I wasn't that crazy.

Most of the flight from Michigan to Solis Occasum Isle (weird name, I know; it was the main reason I was so drawn to it) hadn’t been so horrible, not until the end. The issue was that there were too many babies on this particular flight and they kept crying a lot, as babies tend to do. For the most part, the parents were able to calm them down quick enough, and then by the time it was time for us to sleep, both parents and babies had worn themselves out, so sleep was easy to come by, thankfully.

That sleep was the last of my peace, though. Upon waking around seven in the morning, a baby had just started crying, which then woke up another baby, which woke up the toddlers, and pretty soon the noise level had everyone else in the cabin wide awake. I do not do well being in noisy environments, and I was in a noisy contained environment where I couldn’t simply just walk out...there was nowhere to go.

I thought I could bear it, though (I don’t know why; wishful thinking, perhaps) until a couple from a few rows behind us started arguing about what they wanted to do first on the island (seemed like a stupid thing to argue about but I didn’t know their story so I really couldn’t judge), then the parents of the crying children started screaming over the children trying to get them to stop which of course just caused them to cry louder, especially when the parents began to argue with each other.

That wasn’t even the end of it, no; someone thought it would be a grand idea to start playing heavy metal music at a volume that was way too damn loud, no doubt trying to drown out the rest of the noise, but all it did was make it so much worse.

“Ma’am,” a voice said near me. I ignored it at first (mostly because I’m not a “ma’am”), but when I heard it three more times and began my attempt to find out who was unintentionally misgendering me, a hand firmly (but not enough to hurt) grasped my arm. I jerked from the touch and realized I had, in all the commotion that was now sending me well beyond my tolerance limits, grabbed the arm of the guy next to me and was holding on for dear life, much to his discomfort.

Oh, I was instantly horrified by my unconscious actions.

“I am so sorry,” I told him as I released my hold. I made the mistake of looking at him, and saw a look I hated to see: empathy. Now I felt like a loser; I began to spiral.

“It’s okay. The noise is bothering me, too.”

I broke. That empathy was just too much. I felt like I was going to start screaming bloody murder myself if I didn’t get the fuck out of here!! So I excused myself, got up, made my way to the bathroom, closed the door, locked it, and heaved a sigh of a relief discovering that a good portion of the noise was now blocked; it wasn’t the perfect quiet room I desperately needed, but it was enough.

I stayed in here until I got my breathing regulated again then decided to use the toilet since I was there. Washed my hands, the usual, and then braced myself for the onslaught awaiting me on the other side; I couldn’t stay in here for the rest of the flight, much as I wanted to.

As I began to head to my seat, I heard giggling coming off to my left from the little area for stewardesses located between cabins and heard one attendant say:

“Oh my god, did you hear what Jessie said Mr. Westleigh was doing up in first class??”

Westleigh was my husband’s last name. What were the odds that someone else shared his last name on this very flight? I’d never studied statistics, so it was possible, I guess, but something within me told me this wasn’t that.

I stayed around to find out this Westleigh guy’s first name, if I could. I know, I know, eavesdropping is rude but I really needed to be sure this was just some really weird coincidence, because why would Kyle tell me there were no seats left for him on the plane only to be in first class while leaving me stuck in coach? The man had his faults, but...he wouldn’t do that...

Right?

“No! I did not!” a second attendant replied eagerly, “What’d she say he was doing?!”

“He had her on his lap and was whispering the naughtiest things to her while he had his hand down her pants! Can you believe?!”

The second attendant let out a gasp, and then giggled.

“No way!” She exclaimed.

“Swear to God, Jessie said that. Said that just as she was about to, you know, he took his hand out and playfully shoved her off! She actually had to finish it herself, she’d been that close! He watched, too, big ol’ grin on his face. Can you imagine?!”

“That man is such a jerk!” The second one crooned, her tone indicating that she actually thought no such thing.

My curiosity, not satiated, demanded that I know for sure, so I made my way up front. Nobody stopped me, which I thought was odd, but hey, I took it. I stopped at the curtain that led into first class, too aware that my heart was racing. I think a part of me just knew...

Taking a breath, I pushed the curtains to their sides and needn’t have gone any further than that for there he was, right in my line of sight, my husband. The bastard. So not only had he lied to me, treated himself, and screwed me over, he was also cheating on me with an attendant.

I. Was. Pissed.

...To say the least.

“Kyle!” I screeched. It sounded awful, my voice wasn’t used to me trying to yell; I usually preferred to be quiet.

He looked up, at first horrified, and then…oooh, he grinned. As if his smile was going to disarm me of my fury.

“Hey, honey! So, uh, funny story…”

I fucking lost it. I tried lunging myself towards him but only got as far as, oh, about a step, before I was grabbed and pulled, kicking and screaming, back through the curtain and beyond.

As we passed through business, I was warned that if I didn’t stop the screaming I would be banned from this airline (how’s that for irony?). In the spirit of my best future interest, I did as bid and shut the hell up. They got me back in my seat, told me that the only time I was allowed to get up was to go to the bathroom, and then left me there to stew in all my internalized fury.

The anger drained out after a few minutes though, and that’s when the damned tears started. I felt them coming a second too late to stop them. Crying in public was something I had avoided up until this damn plane ride. Feeling embarrassed on top of everything else was honestly just too much; my system released whether I wanted it to or not.

“Oh my, oh hon,” the guy beside me attempted to console me, “hey it’s okay, what happened??”

Normally, I didn’t tell strangers why I was upset if they happened to notice (why would I?) and ask (most didn't), but my defenses were completely down, which was likely why I stupidly told him all about how my damn husband had completely betrayed me by getting himself a first class ticket while sticking me back here where he knew I’d have a hard time!! He had more than enough money to have gotten me a first class ticket for me, too; if not this flight then on another one, that fucking rat bastard!

When I fell silent, the guy beside me didn’t answer, and when I looked at him, he automatically forced a smile. That was never good.

“What?” I asked him warily. Another mistake.

“No offense, but uhm, I feel like you’re overreacting just a bit.”

I was stunned, absolutely stunned. He thought I was overreacting?!? After everything I'd just told him???

“You don’t know a damned thing,” I snarled, moving away from him over to the empty seat by the window. I heard him murmur an apology under his breath…a sarcastic one.

I spent the rest of the flight glaring out the window, hating everything around me...

...but mostly hating myself.