This is set in "the East" after Mary's finished her flight attendant
training.
This is part one of my first attempt at a multi-part story – be kind.
I don't own these characters and wouldn't want to. They are the sole property of the WB or Brenda Hampton – I think.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She stretched her feet in front of her. Leaning back on the sofa, her back aching, her feet throbbing, she tried to beat down her doubts about her career choice - her most recent choice. She wasn't sure why she'd thought this would be different. It had seemed like it would be fun. She liked being with people, feeling helpful. She just hadn't been prepared for the monotony that came with the job.
The training had been okay. Not exciting, but okay. Everyone had been friendly enough, but somehow she hadn't quite fit in any of the little groups that formed. It wouldn't have mattered now, anyhow, because the new flight attendants weren't usually assigned to the same flight.
She glanced over at the table. The only mail that had arrived since she'd last been home was a bunch of bills. She regretted splurging on the new clothes when she'd first arrived, but at the time the salary had seemed huge. She hadn't taken into account how costly it would be to have her own apartment. Maybe she should look for a roommate. This apartment was really too expensive for one person.
Her next flight would be out to Puerto Rico. They'd just added that route in May. The more senior flight attendants tended to avoid it because no one had family there. Of course, using their buddy passes was something else.
She looked over at the phone, trying to decide if the effort of pulling herself up from the sofa would be outweighed by the pleasure of talking to her family. She corrected herself. It wasn't a pleasure talking to her family, it was just better than the alternative: having them call her with the hidden - and not-so-hidden - reproaches for not keeping in touch.
With a slight groan she put her feet on the floor and headed towards the phone. Picking it up she couldn't hear a dial tone. She pressed down the receiver, but there was no change. Glancing at the table she noticed that one of the bills – one in a red bordered envelope – was from the phone company. Well, at least she wouldn't have to talk to her parents.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Dressing for work the next morning, she ripped her last pair of regulation beige nylons. Fighting to keep her temper, she pulled the ruined pair off her legs and searched for something that would approximate. There was an off-white pair, maybe that would do. No, not really. She could probably buy one at the store if she hurried.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Running into the Whelan's around the corner she grabbed several pairs out of the rack. She cut in front of a man with a basket full of items. He scowled at her. She ignored him. That, at least, she'd perfected in the last month of work.
She waited impatiently in line. The person in front of her was fiddling with her change, counting out pennies. Pennies, for G**'s sake. One … two … three … four … five … six … seven. Chatting, saying what a nice day it was.
Her turn. Finally. The clerk scanned the first package. The scanner didn't read it properly the first time. The clerk tried again. She moved rather languidly. Mary started tapping her feet involuntarily. The clerk looked up, raising an eyebrow at her, annoyed. Did she scan in the next pair even more slowly? Mary pursed her lips, willing herself not to give the clerk an excuse to further delay her. The sale price hadn't shown up, but she was in too much of a rush to ask for a price check. She handed over her card. The clerk swiped it through the machine. She paused and glanced at the screen.
"It won't go through" she said.
"Well, try it again." Mary couldn't quite keep the impatience out of her voice.
Raised eyebrows again. Card dragged through the machine.
"It says there's no further credit." She'd raised her voice slightly to the amusement of the customer Mary had cut in front of. Mary started to protest, then remembered the pile of bills. She had some cash and paid for two packages – enough to last the flight there and back if she was careful.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She arrived at the airport on time – just. She'd already received a warning about arriving late. She couldn't afford to do that too often. Her sister and she had joked about flight attendants missing flights, but they were required to be in the airport long before the flight took off. She passed by the security guard who, used to her last minute appearance, smiled and gave her bag only a passing glance before waving her through. He was really cute. She wondered about giving him her number.
She started going through her check list of items. One vegetarian meal, two kosher meals. Not too difficult. She noted their seat numbers. She'd given a sausage dinner instead of a kosher meal to someone on her last flight. She hoped he hadn't complained.
She heard someone else come in. Must be the other flight attendant. I hope it's not Anderson, she thought.
It wasn't.
Mary was surprised to see a young woman about her own age. She had bouncy blonde hair, pulled back from her face as requited under company regulations, but it wasn't the type of hair that obeyed company regulations as a general rule. It made her seem so much more approachable than the serious, earnest young men and women with whom Mary had trained.
"Hi," she said. (Okay, a little perky, but still probably a nice change).
"Hi, I'm Mary."
"I'm Rachel. I guess you're new?"
"I finished training a couple of months ago. This is my first Puerto Rico flight."
"Don't worry, the distance isn't that bad. In fact, it's shorter than the flights west, and almost everyone's going on vacation so the passengers are pretty friendly."
Mary smiled at her. "How long have you been working here?"
Rachel laughed, "Oh, I know I don't look it, but I'm one of the old foggies here. I've been here for over two years, since the airline first started."
They chatted companionably for the remainder of their prep time. Then Anderson – Jane Anderson, Mary reminded herself – came by to let them know that the passengers were about to board. She looked at Mary and Rachel, frowning, but then turned around without saying anything, much to Mary's relief. She didn't want to ruin Rachel's impression of her with the story of her messing up the kosher meal.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The flight was uneventful and passed quickly. Mary was surprised when she realized they were about to descend. Anderson left soon after the passengers, but Mary and Rachel were responsible for a last check of customer items.
"Well, that wasn't too bad, was it?" asked Rachel encouragingly.
Mary laughed. She found herself feeling more optimistic about this job than she had since training started.
"So, what are you planning to do in Puerto Rico?" Their next flight wasn't until the next day.
"I don't know," said Mary. "I haven't been here before. I thought maybe just go to the beach for a bit, or wander around town."
"Great. That's basically what I have planned, so why don't we head off together? You're staying at the Central Hotel, right?" Mary nodded. She liked Rachel, but her level of enthusiasm was a little overwhelming. Perhaps that's what made her such a good employee. She gave herself a quick mental shake. She smiled. She'd wanted to make friends and here was an opportunity.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
After dropping their bags off at the hotel and changing into much cooler shorts and t-shirts, they headed towards Old San Juan by bus.
Rachel had been there previously and spoke Spanish so she played host. Mary listened to her stories about adventures inside the walls of the old part of the city. They passed the "Plazuela de la Rogativa" (Plaza of the Procession, Rachel translated). In the centre was a modern sculpture commemorating how a procession of women carrying torches and bells scared away a British attack by making them think that the city was well guarded. The governor had prayed for divine intervention, and the women had been inspired to provide it.
"Isn't it wonderful what prayer can accomplish?" Rachel concluded.
"Umm. Yes." Mary was surprised at the reference to religion, but Rachel didn't seem to notice, merely smiling at her as she pushed open the door of one of the local cafés.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"You don't mind if I pray before we eat, do you?"
"No, of course not. I do too." Well, not all the time. You couldn't really pray when you were grabbing a hot dog off a hot dog stand could you? And when she ate at home it seemed funny to be praying alone.
She bowed her head as Rachel said a few brief words.
"Amen."
"Amen."
They ordered frijoles negros (black-bean soup) which Rachel told her was a local favourite. Rachel chose it assuring Mary that it was very good, and also explaining that, where she was vegetarian, it was her best option. They make it without meat here, she said. Mary thought guiltily of her earlier mix-up on the kosher meal and hoped Rachel wouldn't hear about it. At least it wasn't the vegetarian one, she thought.
They finished the meal with a large, round green fruit – breadfruit Rachel called it. It tasted a bit like sweet potato. Then sat in companionable silence sipping the strong black coffee typical of the area, and listening to a band that had struck up a tune just down the road.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The flight back was as uneventful as their earlier one. Mary found herself looking forward to her next trip out. She and Rachel exchanged phone numbers. Only afterwards did Mary remember that having her phone number wouldn't do Rachel much good. Her paycheque would be in by the end of the week. Maybe if she wrote the cheque now they'd let it go through.
This is part one of my first attempt at a multi-part story – be kind.
I don't own these characters and wouldn't want to. They are the sole property of the WB or Brenda Hampton – I think.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She stretched her feet in front of her. Leaning back on the sofa, her back aching, her feet throbbing, she tried to beat down her doubts about her career choice - her most recent choice. She wasn't sure why she'd thought this would be different. It had seemed like it would be fun. She liked being with people, feeling helpful. She just hadn't been prepared for the monotony that came with the job.
The training had been okay. Not exciting, but okay. Everyone had been friendly enough, but somehow she hadn't quite fit in any of the little groups that formed. It wouldn't have mattered now, anyhow, because the new flight attendants weren't usually assigned to the same flight.
She glanced over at the table. The only mail that had arrived since she'd last been home was a bunch of bills. She regretted splurging on the new clothes when she'd first arrived, but at the time the salary had seemed huge. She hadn't taken into account how costly it would be to have her own apartment. Maybe she should look for a roommate. This apartment was really too expensive for one person.
Her next flight would be out to Puerto Rico. They'd just added that route in May. The more senior flight attendants tended to avoid it because no one had family there. Of course, using their buddy passes was something else.
She looked over at the phone, trying to decide if the effort of pulling herself up from the sofa would be outweighed by the pleasure of talking to her family. She corrected herself. It wasn't a pleasure talking to her family, it was just better than the alternative: having them call her with the hidden - and not-so-hidden - reproaches for not keeping in touch.
With a slight groan she put her feet on the floor and headed towards the phone. Picking it up she couldn't hear a dial tone. She pressed down the receiver, but there was no change. Glancing at the table she noticed that one of the bills – one in a red bordered envelope – was from the phone company. Well, at least she wouldn't have to talk to her parents.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Dressing for work the next morning, she ripped her last pair of regulation beige nylons. Fighting to keep her temper, she pulled the ruined pair off her legs and searched for something that would approximate. There was an off-white pair, maybe that would do. No, not really. She could probably buy one at the store if she hurried.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Running into the Whelan's around the corner she grabbed several pairs out of the rack. She cut in front of a man with a basket full of items. He scowled at her. She ignored him. That, at least, she'd perfected in the last month of work.
She waited impatiently in line. The person in front of her was fiddling with her change, counting out pennies. Pennies, for G**'s sake. One … two … three … four … five … six … seven. Chatting, saying what a nice day it was.
Her turn. Finally. The clerk scanned the first package. The scanner didn't read it properly the first time. The clerk tried again. She moved rather languidly. Mary started tapping her feet involuntarily. The clerk looked up, raising an eyebrow at her, annoyed. Did she scan in the next pair even more slowly? Mary pursed her lips, willing herself not to give the clerk an excuse to further delay her. The sale price hadn't shown up, but she was in too much of a rush to ask for a price check. She handed over her card. The clerk swiped it through the machine. She paused and glanced at the screen.
"It won't go through" she said.
"Well, try it again." Mary couldn't quite keep the impatience out of her voice.
Raised eyebrows again. Card dragged through the machine.
"It says there's no further credit." She'd raised her voice slightly to the amusement of the customer Mary had cut in front of. Mary started to protest, then remembered the pile of bills. She had some cash and paid for two packages – enough to last the flight there and back if she was careful.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She arrived at the airport on time – just. She'd already received a warning about arriving late. She couldn't afford to do that too often. Her sister and she had joked about flight attendants missing flights, but they were required to be in the airport long before the flight took off. She passed by the security guard who, used to her last minute appearance, smiled and gave her bag only a passing glance before waving her through. He was really cute. She wondered about giving him her number.
She started going through her check list of items. One vegetarian meal, two kosher meals. Not too difficult. She noted their seat numbers. She'd given a sausage dinner instead of a kosher meal to someone on her last flight. She hoped he hadn't complained.
She heard someone else come in. Must be the other flight attendant. I hope it's not Anderson, she thought.
It wasn't.
Mary was surprised to see a young woman about her own age. She had bouncy blonde hair, pulled back from her face as requited under company regulations, but it wasn't the type of hair that obeyed company regulations as a general rule. It made her seem so much more approachable than the serious, earnest young men and women with whom Mary had trained.
"Hi," she said. (Okay, a little perky, but still probably a nice change).
"Hi, I'm Mary."
"I'm Rachel. I guess you're new?"
"I finished training a couple of months ago. This is my first Puerto Rico flight."
"Don't worry, the distance isn't that bad. In fact, it's shorter than the flights west, and almost everyone's going on vacation so the passengers are pretty friendly."
Mary smiled at her. "How long have you been working here?"
Rachel laughed, "Oh, I know I don't look it, but I'm one of the old foggies here. I've been here for over two years, since the airline first started."
They chatted companionably for the remainder of their prep time. Then Anderson – Jane Anderson, Mary reminded herself – came by to let them know that the passengers were about to board. She looked at Mary and Rachel, frowning, but then turned around without saying anything, much to Mary's relief. She didn't want to ruin Rachel's impression of her with the story of her messing up the kosher meal.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The flight was uneventful and passed quickly. Mary was surprised when she realized they were about to descend. Anderson left soon after the passengers, but Mary and Rachel were responsible for a last check of customer items.
"Well, that wasn't too bad, was it?" asked Rachel encouragingly.
Mary laughed. She found herself feeling more optimistic about this job than she had since training started.
"So, what are you planning to do in Puerto Rico?" Their next flight wasn't until the next day.
"I don't know," said Mary. "I haven't been here before. I thought maybe just go to the beach for a bit, or wander around town."
"Great. That's basically what I have planned, so why don't we head off together? You're staying at the Central Hotel, right?" Mary nodded. She liked Rachel, but her level of enthusiasm was a little overwhelming. Perhaps that's what made her such a good employee. She gave herself a quick mental shake. She smiled. She'd wanted to make friends and here was an opportunity.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
After dropping their bags off at the hotel and changing into much cooler shorts and t-shirts, they headed towards Old San Juan by bus.
Rachel had been there previously and spoke Spanish so she played host. Mary listened to her stories about adventures inside the walls of the old part of the city. They passed the "Plazuela de la Rogativa" (Plaza of the Procession, Rachel translated). In the centre was a modern sculpture commemorating how a procession of women carrying torches and bells scared away a British attack by making them think that the city was well guarded. The governor had prayed for divine intervention, and the women had been inspired to provide it.
"Isn't it wonderful what prayer can accomplish?" Rachel concluded.
"Umm. Yes." Mary was surprised at the reference to religion, but Rachel didn't seem to notice, merely smiling at her as she pushed open the door of one of the local cafés.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"You don't mind if I pray before we eat, do you?"
"No, of course not. I do too." Well, not all the time. You couldn't really pray when you were grabbing a hot dog off a hot dog stand could you? And when she ate at home it seemed funny to be praying alone.
She bowed her head as Rachel said a few brief words.
"Amen."
"Amen."
They ordered frijoles negros (black-bean soup) which Rachel told her was a local favourite. Rachel chose it assuring Mary that it was very good, and also explaining that, where she was vegetarian, it was her best option. They make it without meat here, she said. Mary thought guiltily of her earlier mix-up on the kosher meal and hoped Rachel wouldn't hear about it. At least it wasn't the vegetarian one, she thought.
They finished the meal with a large, round green fruit – breadfruit Rachel called it. It tasted a bit like sweet potato. Then sat in companionable silence sipping the strong black coffee typical of the area, and listening to a band that had struck up a tune just down the road.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The flight back was as uneventful as their earlier one. Mary found herself looking forward to her next trip out. She and Rachel exchanged phone numbers. Only afterwards did Mary remember that having her phone number wouldn't do Rachel much good. Her paycheque would be in by the end of the week. Maybe if she wrote the cheque now they'd let it go through.
