Window Seat

It’s always been tough for me around this time of year. People say the high you feel from true love can be one that's hard to get rid of. That explains why I haven't been able to move on. I would sleep away the day in hopes to see her in my dreams. But my therapist told me excessive sleeping isn't healthy. I remember asking her if it's normal to wish you were dead just to be united with your partner. Her answer was one that I didn't want to hear but ultimately needed to because it was true. She said a life without love is not a life at all. She went on to say the love I lost and keep trying to recapture or relive is evidence that I still have more love to give. A part of me wants to believe her yet I can't help but feel like I would betray Eileen.

“Cookies or peanuts, sir,” the flight attendant asked while making her way down the aisle. “Excuse me, sir. Would you like cookies or peanuts,” she asked again with more authority, this time gaining my attention.

“Oh snap! I'm sorry,” I said while waking up out of my daydream. “Is it a chocolate chip or an oatmeal cookie,” I asked trying to take my mind off Eileen.

The flight attendant smiled and laughed softly before saying, “they're just two biscuit cookies.”

“That's fine. I'll take the cookie,” I responded underwhelmed. I thought of my response as she asked the passengers in my row if they would like water or soda. Finally getting to me, she asked what I'd like, and I smirked before saying, “whiskey would be nice.” Her eyes popped opened in surprise; before she could say anything, I let her know I was only joking. She rolled her eyes while a gentle smile appeared on her face. Gathering herself together, the flight attendant asked me again, this time with a bit of sass if I'd like water or soda. I let her know the water would be fine. As she passed me the cup of water, the flight underwent a light shock of turbulence, making her accidentally spill water on the person beside me and myself.

To my surprise the older gentleman smiled and laughed politely while saying, “don't worry, it happens to the best of us.”

“Oh, my goodness. I'm so sorry, I'm so embarrassed,” the flight attendant blurred sheepishly.

“It wasn't your fault. Like this man said, it happens to the best of us,” I reassured her as she gathered napkins to clean up the mess. I felt compelled to break the awkward silence, so I nudged the older gentleman while saying, “teamwork makes the…”

“Dreamwork,” the flight attendant finished my sentence, this time successfully passing me a new cup of water. I couldn't help but fight off the natural attraction I had to her. A part of me felt like I was cheating on Eileen. Especially since I'm going to visit the island she always dreamt of visiting. An overwhelming sense of betrayal washed over me, as if Eileen would be furious with me.

Then my therapist’s voice popped into my head, “allow yourself to grieve the death of your fiancée.”

“Grieve!? Grieve,” I remember myself exclaiming as I broke down in her office. I spent the last five years wallowing in isolation. I pushed away friends and family, to include Eileen’s. I began questioning why I was on this flight in the first place. But my racing thoughts were soon interrupted by the lingering smell of perfume. At first, I thought it was Eileen’s favorite perfume, “Tom Ford, Black Orchid,” I thought I said softly.

Not realizing my eardrums hadn’t popped, I couldn't tell if I was being loud or not which was quickly answered by the flight attendant’s response, “No, it’s Floral Street Wild Vanilla Orchid, sweetie.” At this point it was evident that the attraction was mutual; the older gentleman nudged and gave me a head signal as to say I should pursue her. Then my being on this flight made total sense; my therapist advised that I should try new things and be open to the possibilities. I miss Eileen, I know this will be an uphill battle, but this window seat view is beautiful from what I can see.