Flying Alone

“Sixteen... seventeen... eighteen,” I whispered under my breath. Locating my row, I plunked down into seat ‘B’ with a sigh and dropped my backpack onto my shoes.

“You should stow that in the overhead compartment,” said a little voice nearby, and I turned, startled, toward the occupant of seat ‘A’, whom I somehow missed noticing before. She wore a white blouse and a grey skirt that camouflaged with the seat. What sort of little girl dresses like that? I wondered. It looked like a uniform. She had a stuffed bear tucked under one arm, a stern-faced character that looked like a reproduction of an antique bear, the kind with a long, pointed snout and no fur. Its limbs were stiff and unfriendly, not at all cuddly like I thought a bear should be.

I put in an effort to smile. I’d never been comfortable around children.

“I thought I’d keep it under the seat... easier to get at,” I explained, kicking my bag under the seat in front of me.

The girl reached into the pouch in front of her and pulled out the dog-eared airline safety manual. I watched as she studied it soberly for a few minutes. She glanced up at me finally.

“It’s important to know these things.”

I nodded my agreement. “So... are you flying alone?” I asked.

“Yes. I always do.”

“You do a lot of flying then?”

“I suppose.”

She didn’t seem to want to discuss the matter further, so I gave up on the small talk and sat back in my seat, shutting my eyes until the plane started to move. For lack of anything else to do, I watched the flight attendant demonstrate the safety procedures as we began to taxi toward the runway. I took a deep breath and smiled, feeling the exciting press of force against my chest as the plane built up speed, and then lifted off. I watched out the window, over the little girl’s head, as the airport steadily shrank from sight.

“My name’s Hetty,” she said, smoothing out the wrinkles of the safety manual and tucking it back into its pocket.

“That’s an unusual name.”

“I suppose it is nowadays.”

I grinned at the girl, trying not to laugh at her. She probably had older parents, the kind that didn’t have the energy to play with her. She was a miniature grown-up.

“I’m Chris,” I offered.

“That’s a very... usual name,” she said, smiling proudly at her wit. I laughed politely and shook her hand as she offered it.

“So how old are you?” I asked.

“I don’t really keep track anymore.”

I chuckled silently. “Yeah... after six, it all becomes kind of a blur.”

Hetty folded her hands neatly in her lap, her bear still tucked under one arm. It looked out of place there, as if a mere affectation of childhood. Its black button eyes glared at me. I shivered and looked across the aisle to see who was on my other side. A sixtyish man sat alone, his hands gripping the armrests tightly. The airsick bag peeked out of the pouch in front of him, and he seemed to be staring at it with intent. I decided I was satisfied with the neighbour I had been assigned.

“So,” I began again, “flying alone isn’t scary for you? I think I would have been pretty scared, at your age.”

The corners of her mouth turned up smugly, as if at some private joke. “I’m not scared,” she said, and I knew she wasn’t lying.

Soon the flight attendants began serving drinks. The man across the aisle, now looking a bit pale and sweaty, ordered straight vodka, and his hand trembled slightly as he took it.

“And for you?”

“Would a white wine be possible?” I asked.

“Certainly.” She poured the drink, and then moved on to the girl beside me. “What would you like to drink, sweetheart?”

“Apple juice, please. No ice.”

I watched the drink as it was passed in front of me—only a shade yellower than mine. Two tiny packets of pretzel sticks were dropped onto our tray tables, and the cart moved on. I let my mind settle into a haze, slowly sipping my drink.

“Let’s trade,” Hetty said.

I nursed the small plastic cup of apple juice mindlessly for a few minutes before it occurred to me as strange. I turned to face Hetty; she sipped contentedly.

“Wait... you shouldn’t be drinking that!” I exclaimed, wondering where my head had been when I agreed to the trade. “Here, take your juice.”

She glared at me darkly and took her cup back, handing me mine. “Tasted rather cheap anyway,” she muttered. “Give me your pretzels.”

I passed her the package and finished off my drink in a few gulps.

Half an hour into the flight, the man across the aisle used his airsick bag. I tried not to stare. Hetty giggled quietly into her hand. I turned to her, shocked. She beckoned me to come close. I leaned down to let her whisper in my ear:

“That man is going to die next Thursday.”

I swallowed hard, wishing I had another drink. And what happened to my pretzels? “Why would you say a thing like that?” I finally whispered back.

“Because it’s true.”

“Yeah?” I said in a challenging tone, starting to be angry with the girl. “And when am I going to die?”

She studied me in the same serious way she had studied the safety manual. “Not for a while. I don’t know exactly. But it’ll probably be cancer.” She smiled widely at my astonishment. “Do you think I’m strange?”

“To be honest, I do.”

“You just don’t understand me yet. But you’ll get there.” She lifted up her bear in both hands to face it eye-to-eye. “Just like Teddy. He understands me. He never complains.”

“Well, your bear is a little strange too,” I muttered, closing my eyes.

I woke when the pilot announced we were about to land. Hetty pulled out a little paper bag of mints from her skirt pocket and popped one into her mouth. She offered me one and I took it, sucking hard on it and swallowing frequently to clear my ears.

The plane touched down, taxied to its gate, and then the passengers began to unstrap themselves and gather their belongings. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and shoved my way into the crowded aisle. I was faintly aware of Hetty following me as I migrated with the others toward the baggage claim. I yawned silently, watching the hypnotic procession of luggage going round and round the carousel. Finally I located my duffel bag and grabbed it before it could pass me by. I turned to leave, but Hetty stopped me.

“Wait!” she called.

“Oh... sorry,” I murmured, glancing at my watch but not really seeing the time.

Hetty seized a tiny brown suitcase and set it down on the floor, opening it up to check its contents. “You never can trust those baggage handlers,” she explained. Satisfied, she stuffed her bear into the case and latched it shut. Taking its handle with one hand and offering me the other, she stared up at me expectantly. I took her hand and we left the baggage carousel.

The man who had been sick on the plane looked at me and then at Hetty, staring at her with wide eyes. I pulled her closer to my side. She grasped my hand tighter, and we walked together toward the exit.

* * *

This was originally written c. 2007, in answer to the hypothetical question, 'What if a child abducted an adult?'