The tension in the businessclass cabin of the Flight 27 to New York was palpable. Passengers cast furtive glances at the frail lady just as she settled into her seat, as if her very presence threatened the calm. It was only at the very end of the journey that the captain himself addressed her.
Ethel, clutching the armrests, tried to steady her breathing. The moment she lowered herself, a sharp exchange erupted.
I will not sit next to that woman! boomed a man in his early forties, his eyes fixed on her modest dress as he turned to the stewardess. His name was Victor Blackwell, and he wore his arrogance like a badge of honor.
Excuse me, sir, but the passenger has a confirmed reservation for this seat. We cannot move her, the stewardess replied, her tone even, though Victor continued to stare Ethel down.
These seats are far too expensive for people like her, he sneered, glancing around as though seeking allies.
Ethel remained silent, a tight knot forming inside her. She wore her finest dressa simple, wellkept gown, the only thing suitable for the occasion. Some of the other travellers exchanged looks, a few nodding in Victors favor.
At last, the old woman lifted a trembling hand and whispered, Its all right if theres a seat in economy, Ill step down. Ive saved for this flight all my life and I dont wish to trouble anyone.
Ethel was eightyfive, and this was her first time on an aeroplane. The corridors of the airport, the endless queues, the waiting roomseverything had been a labyrinth shed navigated with the help of an airport attendant who made sure she didnt lose her way. Now, with only a few hours left before her lifelong dream, she faced humiliation.
The stewardess stood firm. Im sorry, madam, but you paid for this ticket and you have every right to be here. No one may take that away from you. She turned a cold, steady gaze on Victor and added, If you do not stop, I will call security.
Victor muttered under his breath, his defiance dimming. The aircraft climbed into the clouds. In her nervousness, Ethel dropped her handbag, and without a word Victor stepped forward, helping her gather the scattered items.
When he handed back the bag, his eyes lingered on a pendant resting against her chesta stone the colour of fresh blood.
Fine piece of jewellery, he said. Looks like a ruby. I know a thing or two about antiques; thats worth a decent sum.
Ethel forced a smile. I have no idea its value my father gave it to my mother before he left for war. He never came back. Mother passed it to me when I turned ten.
She opened the locket, revealing two faded photographs: a young couple on one, a smiling boy on the other.
These were my parents, she murmured, her voice soft. And this my son.
Victors tone softened. Youre flying to see him?
No, Ethel lowered her eyes. I placed him in a childrens home as an infant. I had no husband, no job, nothing to give him a proper life. I only recently traced him through a DNA test. I wrote to him, but he told me he didnt want to know.
Today is his birthday. I just wanted to be near him, even for a minute
Victors brow furrowed. Then why the flight?
A faint smile brushed Ethels lips, sorrow flickering in her gaze. Hes the commander of this flight. Its the only way I can be close to him, even if its just a glance.
Victor fell silent, shame flushing his cheeks. He bowed his head.
The stewardess, hearing the confession, slipped quietly toward the cockpit. A few minutes later the captains voice crackled over the intercom.
Ladies and gentlemen, well be commencing our descent into JFK shortly. Before we land, Id like to address a very special lady on board. Mother please remain after disembarkation. I want to see you.
Ethels breath caught. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and a hush fell over the cabin, broken only by soft applause and sobbing smiles.
When the plane touched down, the captain broke protocol. He rushed out of the cockpit, tears shining, and threw his arms around Ethel, holding her as though trying to make up for lost years.
Thank you, Mother, for everything youve given me, he whispered, pressing her close.
Ethel sobbed into his shirt. Theres nothing to forgive. I have always loved you
Victor stood to the side, his head bowed, his shame deepening. He finally understood that beneath the worn dress and the wrinkles lay a story of sacrifice and love.
It had been more than a flight. It was a reunion of two hearts torn apart by time, finally finding each other at last.
