Plane journeys had never been an easy ride for me; pun intended. I think, if i'd have experienced a plane journey as a child—broke the ice, I guess—it wouldn't be as difficult as it was now. Growing up with parents who were far too busy yelling at each other, or drinking, or doing god knows what to even remember to pick me up from school in the afternoon meant that a happy jolly family holiday was far from reach. My first plane journey was only a couple years back, as an adult; a far more wary, paranoid, pessimistic adult with a lot more knowledge on the known catastrophes that've taken place on plane journeys. I can remember it almost like it was yesterday. I remember nearing a panic attack as I sat on the plane; overwhelmed simply by the premise of being raised in the air by lord knows how many feet. That, and the fact that the plane was tight and cramped, and how the isle you had to somehow shimmy your way through to find your allocated seat was so narrow that you were almost touching shoulders with the stranger in the next row to you. It was a claustrophobic pessimist's worst nightmare, and so, in rough translation; it was my worst nightmare. Sam had only invested in the holiday because i'd told him the kids deserved a treat; something to make up for the awfully toxic environment they were living in with the two of us at each other's throats all the time.
Disneyland Paris, it was. He'd trailed behind hard-faced and miserable as I walked ahead in front of him; both boys clinging on to each of my hands. And as we walked, we passed other families; fathers who hoisted their little kids up onto their shoulders so they could get a good look at Mickey and Minnie Mouse. Sam truly couldn't be any more out of place. He didn't seem to experience the joy I felt when Dylan ran up to hug Woody from Toy Story like it's all he'd ever wanted to do, or mirror my horror when little Norman got far too excited and tripped and scraped his knee. Sam wasn't the kind of guy you would imagine yourself raising children with. He wasn't the kind of guy who you'd sit and watch playing with your children and feel a rush of contentment wash over you in that moment because you realise that your family is truly perfect. He wasn't the kind of guy romantic enough to set the two of you up the occasional 'date nights' as a small break from the often hassling day-job that was being a parent. Sam was the guy who would only agree to take your kids to the magical kingdom of Disneyland because he should; because that's what all the other fathers did, because he wanted to be seen as the good guy. What he wanted was to build up such a clean, innocent image of the two of us that i'd have neighbours or family friends or even mere strangers come up to me in the grocery store and say 'You are so lucky to have a guy like Sam as a husband' or 'You have a beautiful family'. In those moments I could never manage to feel any anger or amusement over the fact that those statements were far from true, because somehow, somewhere deep down; I was proud. Real or not, we gave off the image i'd always wanted when I pictured having a family of my own, and that was enough.
It was when I began to realise that it shouldn't be enough that things became complicated. After each piercing yell, each sexist comment and constant demand and slap he threw at me; the message had slowly began to sink in that this just wasn't what life was supposed to be like. I wasn't supposed to just sit and make do because hey, at least other people thought we were a nice family. I was supposed to be a good mother to my children. To protect them, keep them out of harms way. I was supposed to be in the right mind-set to realise that this was not a safe environment for them, nor me, and to be strong and wise enough to make a move and do something about it. But I just wasn't. Not yet.
If you watch, well—almost every trashy romantic comedy movie ever—where does the female protagonist jet off to figure herself out? Well the city that never sleeps, of course. New York City. I hadn't been before; always wanted to, never got the opportunity to. With Norman and Dylan going to summer camp (which was still eating away at my brain, but they were teenagers now and I had to let them grow up someday) and Sam going away for work, I had the chance to do something for myself for once. At first, it felt almost wrong. Like how a goody-two-shoes nerd at school would feel if they were planning to skip a class for the first time. I felt like a rule breaker; like I was going against my true purpose in life and going in a completely different direction. If anything, the rush that came with that feeling is the main part of what had me stepping on that plane without a second thought about what might happen if I did.
A slight bit of moment jilted me out of my peaceful slumber on the plane journey; one which ended far earlier than i'd have liked, really. Being blinded by the bright light from the plane window as soon as my eyes opened, it seemed pointless to make any attempt to get back to sleep. I couldn't be sure if a faulty sleeping pill was to blame, or whether the true culprit was my tendency to be a ridiculously light sleeper. Probably the latter. That was one of the main things motherhood changed about me; how well I slept. As a little girl I could sleep through anything. Sometimes i'd wake up and i'd open my curtains to complete destruction left behind by a storm; one that, unlike what seemed to be the entire town, i'd been completely oblivious to. But now, as a mother? Even the tiniest of murmurs could wake me, because usually instincts would tell me that a sound such as this was a cry; a plea for my help and comfort after a nightmare, or god forbid something worse and more real. Nine times out of ten it was a false alarm; and i'd check the boys rooms to the sight of both of them sound asleep, wrapped up in their covers with a teddy bear under their arms. Even so, it made me more alert, and while I would usually complain about waking up so easily; it was a trait that'd actually benefitted me a good number of times.
And funnily enough, this was one of those times.
The first thing my eyes properly focused on was an arm reaching right across me. I immediately tensed back in my seat, turning to glare at the man sitting next to me. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
He paused for a second; turning to look at me. "Are you serious?" He reached his hand out slightly further, simply pushing the window closed and pulling his hand back in surrender to demonstrate his innocence.
"Oh!" I exclaimed, running a hand through my curls in embarrassment. "Oh." I repeated once again, followed by a laugh of shame. "Sorry, I thought—"
"Don't worry about it." He nodded once, sitting back in his seat and placing his hands on his lap. Despite his words, he didn't seem at all satisfied by my apology. Seemed to me he'd already made a judgement based on what'd just happened; in that he decided I wasn't someone he wanted to converse with.
I raised an eyebrow at his attitude, slumping back into my seat and pulling my eye mask down. It must've only been a couple of minutes that I stayed in this position, as I was unable to shake the burning feeling that his eyes were glued on me. I pulled the mask back up, turning to look at the man who—as I suspected—was looking my way. "I'm sorry but do you have a problem, mister?"
"Me? No." He shrugged. "Why, do you?"
"Yeah, you know what, I do actually. I payed good money for this seat, and I get a guy like you sitting right next to me. It's just my goddamn luck."
"Maybe you should ask for a refund."
"Maybe I should."
"Maybe you should."
"Maybe I will." I smiled sarcastically, and he shook his head and buried his head back into his newspaper.
I huffed, swivelling my body to the side so I was facing away from the stranger.
Silence filled the air for a short moment, and I watched the man through the corner of my eye; just sat there, scanning through a newspaper. Perfectly innocent; yet somehow managing to infuriate me substantially. I twisted the hem of my skirt with my fingers in train of thought, eventually coming to the conclusion that this conversation was not over.
"You know, it doesn't kill to be a little friendly now and again."
He jumped, closing his newspaper shut and turning towards me with a sigh and an absence of any form of expression on his face.
"It also doesn't kill to let a guy sit in silence. I paid for a flight, pretty sure I didn't sign up to be a source of entertainment."
"Jeez, y'know—i'm not asking you to get up and perform a magic act. I'm just saying, it's common courtesy to at least say hello and introduce yourself in a situation like this."
"Alright, hello." He stated simply. "Happy?"
"Overjoyed." I smiled sarcastically and pulled my eye mask right over my head, dropping it to the side and fixing my messy hair. "And the introduction...?" I trailed off, making a gesture with my hand.
"Alex." He muttered quietly, holding his hand out towards me.
"Well, I guess it's nice to meet you Alex." I shook his hand, at least grateful for that welcoming gesture. "I'm Norma."
Our greeting was briefly disrupted by the food and drinks trolley stopping next to us, the air hostess questioning us both on whether we wanted anything.
"Oooh! I'll take some of those chips—" I reached over Alex, pointing to the specific packet on the trolley. "And a still water."
She took out the items I requested and I glanced at the list of prices on the plastic-framed piece of paper propped on top of the trolley. I rummaged through my purse for some change and handed the money over. "Thank you very much." I smiled as she passed on the chips and water in return.
"I'll take a sparking water, please."
"Ugh." My face screwed up in disgust at his choice of drink.
"What now?" He looked back at me after handing his money over to the air hostess, receiving his drink in return.
"How can you like sparkling water?"
His eyebrows knitted together, appearing to be confused at my question. "What do you mean?"
"I mean–how does it appeal to you? I honestly don't get the appeal. It just tastes like fizzy air."
"In that case, isn't normal water just...air?" He stated smugly, pointing over to my own bottle of still water.
"Oh ha ha, okay." I rolled my eyes, taking a quick sip of the water. "So you're one of those smart-ass guys, huh?
"Yeah, i'm one of those smart-ass guys. Hadn't you noticed?" He questioned with a raise of his eyebrow, taking a sip of his own water.
"Oh, i've spent my entire life dealing with those guys. I noticed alright. I avoid guys like that like the plague, that's why i'm single. I mean they are everywhere, it's ridiculous. These days you can rarely have a full conversation with a guy without him—"
"You're single?"
"Hm?"
"You said you were single."
I paused, unaware that the lie had come out so naturally. Of course, I wasn't single, and I certainly didn't avoid smart-ass guys. In fact I couldn't, really, I had to live with one; I was married to one. Over the years i'd somehow managed to get used to how horrible he was, but at this point it was getting too much. All of it was getting to me, and I needed a break from it all; an escape. That's the whole reason why I was sat on this plane in the first place. But he didn't need to know that. This stranger didn't have to know that I was a complete and utter train-wreck.
"Oh! Sorry, yes. Yeah I am."
"Oh." He nodded. "Wouldn't have thought so." While he didn't seem to execute it as one, I took the reaction as a compliment anyway.
"And you?"
"Don't really don't have time for that stuff."
"Workaholic?" I speculated, tilting my head.
"I guess you could say that."
"I knew it." I exclaimed, snapping my fingers. "What's your job?" I crossed my legs and brought the bottled water back up to my lips again, looking towards him. I found it surprising how into the conversation i'd found myself at this stage.
"I'm the Sheriff of my hometown." I abruptly pulled the water bottle back down to my lap, bringing my hand up to my mouth and swallowing back the water i'd almost spat it out in surprise. "Wow." He nodded. "Yeah." A small laugh escaped his lips then; the first i'd heard from him so far. He had a nice smile, actually, when it was a genuine one and not out of smugness. I'd give him that. "And you?"
"A sheriff. Damn." Well, it explained his lack of emotion. Being a Sheriff required being pretty serious; clearly he'd gotten so used to it that it'd stuck even while being off duty. "A sheriff scurrying off to the Big Apple? Surely that time off work can't be easy to come by, right?" I'd hoped that he would forget that i'd completely ignored his question; after all I could hardly reveal that I was nothing more than an unemployed housewife, reliant on her husband for financial support. Especially since I didn't even have a husband now, according to whatever on earth had taken over my mind and possessed me to lie unjustifiably to this stranger.
"Not exactly, no, but then I wouldn't exactly label this 'scurrying' off. I mean—i'm not really here by choice."
"Are you telling me you've been made to come on this vacation?"
"Basically." He responded with a shrug; like as if he was a kid being sent to summer school by his strict parents. My question had been put sarcastically, but he responded all too seriously; almost as if he really was expecting my sympathy over being made to come to a city like New York. "It gets to a point where taking time off the job is mandatory. I hate it, really. Not knowing what's going on back home. When you're a Sheriff it's not a good feeling to lose control of it all."
"Oh, god. How awful," I feigned sympathy, placing my hand to my chest. "Having to kick back and relax in one of the greatest cities in America? God it sounds like complete torture, I hope you'll be okay?"
He nodded slowly, understanding the sarcasm. "You think i'm boring."
He wasn't wrong; someone who had to be forced to take time off work is definitely the kind of person i'd label as a bore. "Well, you'd understand if your work was the most important thing to you. I'm assuming it isn't. What do you do?"
Another pause. I'd hoped he'd get so carried away with his own job description that mine would be a subject topic that'd be brushed aside, but now I was stuck.
"I'm a teacher." I answered, as quickly as was possible.
"What subject?"
Really? It wasn't a couple of minutes ago that the guy was showing no interest in interacting with me at all. Of course he just had to choose now to know more about me; once i'd already caught myself in this web of lies. Typical. It was almost like he knew that I needed to be tested, like he was setting out to watch me slip up.
"Wait let me guess—English? Or art?"
"English." Well, I was relatively good at English in school. At least it was a logical lie, if there ever was one.
"Mm. Thought so. You look like an English teacher." He took a quick glance my way and nodded; like as if he was satisfied with his observation.
I frowned, snorting quietly. "Do I? How can you look like an English teacher?"
"God, I don't know. Female English teachers are usually the kind and talkative ones, the ones all the students like...aren't they? I don't know. I guess I get that from you." He shrugged.
"Woah, was that a compliment?"
"You can take it as one."
"It was a compliment." I grinned smugly and nodded, opening my packet of chips and popping one into my mouth.
"As I said. You can take it as one."
"Mhhhhm." I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, and I could've sworn I saw him crack another genuine smile. It was a compliment. An intentional one, at that.
"So why New York?"
"Huh? Oh, gosh, no idea. I've always wanted to go, I guess."
"You've never been before?"
"Nah." I shook my head. "Why have you?"
"A couple times." He nodded.
"Ah," I sat back. "So this is your 'mandatory vacation' destination every year."
"How'd you know?"
"Eh. You seem like the kinda guy who'd stick to one place.
He sighed in frustration, turning to look at me with an unimpressed expression plastered on his face.
The seriousness on his face broke the neutral expression on my own, causing me to burst out into laughter. "Okay, alright, that was an insult...yes. I'm sorry." I placed my hand on his shoulder apologetically. "Look i'm not saying you're boring—"
"You haven't said the words—"
"—It's just, I don't know...do you not get bored? Coming to the same place all the time?"
"Nope."
"But...have you not just seen everything there is to see?"
"I'm not really the sightseeing type."
"So you're telling me you visit a city like New York, and you stay cooped up in your hotel room the entire time like a hermit? You might as well go to some crappy motel slap bang in the middle of nowhere if you're gonna do that."
"I never said I stay cooped up in my hotel room, I said I don't go sightseeing."
"Potatoes, potahtoes." I waved my hand in front of my face.
"There are still things to do outside of Manhattan, you know. New York isn't just Times Square and the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty. There's so much more to it than that, and that's what I go for. The quieter parts."
"Mhm..."
He rolled his eyes, blatantly noticing the growing grin spreading across my face at his words. "Just say it, I know it's eating you up."
"You're boring." I finally said, smiling in satisfaction.
"I'm glad you finally got your moment there."
"Aw, thanks. It felt good, really."
He shook his head and smiled again; that same genuine smile from earlier that seemed to accentuate just how attractive he truly was.
I wanted someone to slap me; needed someone to slap me, really. No part of this was a good idea; the lying, the fact that I was thinking about this man in the way I currently was, or even the fact that I was talking to him in the first place. But I had to remind myself; i'd probably never see him again. New York was a big city. I wasn't going to ask for his number, or give him mine, and he didn't exactly seem to be the kind of guy to ask for it either. Two strangers on a plane; making do with the company they've got, perhaps along with a touch of flirtation and sarcasm. That's all it was. Harmless. Completely harmless. The lying part of it was something different; something a lot less harmless. Dangerous, even.
Lying was unhealthy, yes, but everything in my life was. I'd come to New York to escape that. To forget about everything for a short amount of time. That wasn't going to be successful if I spent the whole vacation talking or even thinking about Sam, or the kids, or my past, or anything that made my life worth being rewritten.
Okay, you have no idea how long i've been toying with this idea for. I've wrote and deleted and wrote and deleted, changed plot-lines, decided not to bother at all, then gone back to it etc etc. I feel like right now, if anything, is the right time to publish. With what has happened in the show, I am honestly digging the Normero AU's right now. I know a lot of other people are too, so I do hope this one appeals to people. If it does, do let me know, or if it doesn't I guess - there's nothing wrong with constructive criticism! Anyway, the first two are pretty much just starter chapters since as i'm sure you can imagine the story only properly begins when they actually get to New York, but I hope this one was still enjoyable anyway and enough for you to want to read more.