“You okay?” her seatmate asked quietly.
“I, uh, I don’t know.” She could feel her hands shaking uncontrollably.
“You look a little pale,” he whispered. “Panic attack?”
She barely nodded, gripping the armrests so tightly she thought they might break off. Every muscle in her body was clenched and tight, and it took every ounce of control not to scream, “Let me off!”
“Just breathe,” he said softly. “Close your eyes . . . imagine how beautiful Paris is going to be.” As the plane began to back up, he continued to speak in the same soothing tone, telling her how stunning the city looked in December. Almost as if he were reading from a travel brochure or telling her a story. “It gets darker earlier this time of year so that will make the lights on the Champs-Élysées seem even brighter, there will be less crowds, shops won’t be so busy, and the air will be clearer.”
“Have you been to Paris before?” She cautiously opened her eyes, peering curiously at him as the plane taxied toward the runway.
“I was there one summer, during college. It was hot and crowded and busy then. But still beautiful. Well worth seeing. My good friend Sasha had lived there for a few years. She showed me all around, but I remember her saying it was wonderful in December. She said winter was the perfect time to visit.”
“Interesting.” Simone nodded. “I never considered that.”
“Sasha moved back to Seattle a few years ago. She and I got together just last week, and she told me to be sure to visit the Christmas market. I guess it’s pretty cool. She went on and on about Parisian Christmas decorations. Not cheesy like what you see in America but artistic and beautiful. And, of course, there’s always the food.” He sighed as the plane began to pick up speed. “Don’t get me going on French cuisine.” He actually smacked his lips, which made Simone smile.
The plane was too noisy to hear much of anything as it took off, but Simone simply closed her eyes, allowing images of Paris decorated for Christmas and thoughts of delicious Parisian food to occupy her thoughts. As the jet soared upward, her anxiety seemed to be left down below. When she finally opened her eyes, she felt surprisingly calm. Was it the chocolate or the handsome guy seated next to her? Whatever it was, she had no complaints.
“You seem better,” he said as she sat up straighter.
“I feel better.” She smiled. “Thanks for your help. It was fun hearing more about Paris in December. I have a booklet about Paris in my bag, but I haven’t read much yet.”
“No problem. Sasha wanted to be sure I didn’t miss a thing. I think she was wishing she could come too.”
“Oh.” Simone nodded. “Is she your girlfriend?” Of course, she instantly regretted this—it was none of her business who Sasha was.
“Sasha’s just a good friend.” He grinned. “By the way, I’m Kyle. I guess I should’ve said that before.”
She felt relieved. “I’m Simone.”
“Simone? That sounds French.”
“It is French. Simone Sophia. After my great-grandmother. She was French.”
“Cool. I assume you’re going to search out your heritage?”
“I guess. You see, my great-grandfather was in Europe during World War II. He was an Army Air Corp navigator. But his plane got shot down over France. That’s how he met my great-grandmother.”
“Romantic. So is that why you’re afraid of flying? Because of your great-grandfather being shot down.”
“It probably didn’t help. Although when I grew up hearing that story, it always sounded more like a fun adventure. Fortunately, he had a parachute. And of course, that’s how he found his true love. So happy ending.” She frowned. “Not so much for his son though. My grandpa was killed in a small plane accident about fifteen years ago. That’s when I developed my flying phobia.”
“I’m sorry. What a tragic way to lose a grandfather.”
“Yeah, and he was more like a father. My grandparents raised me. Anyway, they’re both gone now.”
“Again, I’m sorry.” His expression looked genuinely sad for her. Then he brightened. “But let’s not forget, you’re on your way to Paris. Paris in December. What could be better than that?”
“I guess it could be better if we were already there.” She sneaked a glance out the window then shuddered. Even though the plane was encompassed by clouds, it was unsettling. She was suddenly aware that they were high in the air with nothing to hold them up but those engines. What if one blew up? The only way out was down. She turned back around, grabbing the armrests like a lifeline.
“Feeling shaky again?” he asked.
“Uh-huh . . . unfortunately.” She stared straight ahead, trying to erase the thoughts of engines exploding.
“Just lean back and breathe,” he said quietly. “Think happy thoughts.”
“I’ll try,” she muttered. “Sorry to be such a downer. Feel free to ignore me.”
He laughed. “No worries.”
She closed her eyes, taking in a long deep breath and slowly exhaling. “If you’re lucky, I’ll go to sleep and stop bothering you.”
“You’re no bother, Simone. Just think about Paris in December . . . how beautiful it will be,” he reminded her. So that’s exactly what she did. And it was mostly working, but she was craving another chocolate. They were in her bag stowed above them, and she didn’t want to make everyone move to get it. I am safe, I am fine, she told herself, but her hands still grasped the armrests.
While taking another long deep breath and doing the counting that was supposed to help, she could hear Kyle engaged with someone else. Part of her felt sorry because she had enjoyed his company, but another part of her felt relieved. He deserved a better seatmate than Ms. Flight-o-phobia.
He nudged her arm. “Here, Simone, try this.”
She opened her eyes to see him holding a small glass of red wine. “What?” She sat up straighter, blinking.
“It’s complimentary pinot noir from France. It might help you to relax.” As he handed it to her, the attendant handed Kyle another one. “Here’s to Paris.” Kyle held up his glass like a toast.
“To Paris.” She sighed. “May we get there ASAP.”
He chuckled and they both took a sip. “Not bad for complimentary wine,” he said. “And under the circumstances, it’s a smart move on the airline’s part. I’m sure a lot of people feel nervous about flying. They just know how to hide it better.”
“So everyone’s just pretending?” She told him about the fake it until you make it exercise. “I thought it was working earlier today, before I started to unravel.”
“Well, if it’s any comfort, I think you’re doing just fine. By the time you fly back home, you’ll be an old pro.”
“Flying back home.” She frowned. “Not sure I care to think about that now.”
He laughed. “I get you. So, tell me, how long will you be in Paris?”
“Only a few days. But I’ll be in France until after New Year’s.”
“That’s great. And you’ll be looking up your great-grandmother’s family?”