by Unknown
Marcus scanned the paper, and was just about to pat himself on the back for yet another shrewd investment when his phone started to buzz. He pulled it out of his pocket and a wave of discomfort washed over him when he saw the message.
It was from his ex, Emma. She was supposed to have been his date to the wedding, but they’d broken up two weeks ago. The break-up had completely blindsided her, or so she’d claimed. But after a year together, Marcus had realized that she just wasn’t right – and by that, he meant that she simply wasn’t wife and mother material. She was far too focused on her career, and when he’d brought up the topic of kids, her face had scrunched up as if she’d just bitten into a lemon.
Marcus was looking for someone very specific. Someone stable, dependable and mature. And most importantly, someone he could settle down with. He was 27 now, after all, and successful enough to provide a good home for his future family – a family he wanted more than anything, perhaps more than he would ever admit out loud. He’d never really had a family of his own, not in the traditional sense, anyway. Unfortunately, Mrs Right was proving to be rather elusive thus far.
Hey, I’d really like to talk to you, Marcus. Please call me when you get a chance. Have a safe flight and send Lilly and Damien my love. Em xx
He put his phone away without responding, and turned back to the paper. But just as he’d started on an excellent article about the pros and cons of investing in platinum, his focus was once again shattered, this time by a rather loud ruckus on the other side of the departures area.
“Excuse me.”
“Sorry – zipping through.”
“Thanky-thanks!”
“Scuse moi!”
Feeling irritated at the disturbance, he looked up – and that’s when he smacked eyes on her. She was small, thin and rather waiflike. She was also wearing a hideous dress that looked like it had been purchased at a charity store from an aged hippie. It was a cream-colored thing, splashed with a loud, canary-yellow sunflower print. He ran his eyes down the length of the dress until he found his gaze transfixed by the ugliest pair of shoes he’d seen in a while – old, worn brown leather sandals that seemed too big for the dainty feet they were strapped onto. And to top the whole atrocious ensemble off: a scarf. Pink. Knitted. With yellow pom-poms hanging from it. He physically cringed.
“Just squeezing through. Cheerio!” Her voice was high-pitched and had a sing-song quality to it.
It wasn’t only the loud jet of words flying out of her mouth that was responsible for the public disturbance – it was also her bangles. Chunky wooden things and purple plastic junk with pink feathers and large shells dangled from her slender arms and clanked together as she minced. Because she didn’t simply walk – oh no – she sort of flapped about as if she had no control over her limbs. Her arms and legs seemed to veer off in random directions, knocking the odd person as she went. His eyes moved up for the first time, and he felt his mouth pop open in shock as his gaze settled on her face.
Her hair! It looked like a rainbow had thrown up on her. Pink, blue, orange and purple radiated from her scalp. The colorful strands were braided together into a plait that hung over her shoulder and was fastened at the end by a giant, purple, glittery flower. He’d never seen anyone with rainbow-colored hair before; in fact, he’d never seen anyone so utterly bizarre-looking. And then it dawned on him…
This must be Stormy- Rain.
Shit. He was going to kill Damien when he saw him.
2
Whatever floats your duck
Marcus heaved a resigned sigh as he got up, straightened the cuffs of his crisp Polo shirt, and walked over to her.
“Stormy-Rain?” He couldn’t believe he was actually calling anyone by that name, let alone saying it out loud for the whole damn world to hear.
“Marcus!” she exclaimed brightly, as though she were genuinely happy to see him. They’d never even meet. “It’s just Stormy, or Rainy, or Rain, or even Rainbow – that’s what people usually call me, but if you want to call me Stormy-Rain, that’s also okay. Whatever floats your duck.”
“Boat,” Marcus corrected her instinctively without even thinking.
“Where?” Stormy asked, swiveling her head around as though she were really looking for a boat.
What the hell? Had she really just done that? Looked for a boat? Marcus blinked several times as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. In the few short moments since he’d clapped eyes on her, he’d already taken measure of her personality. And she was utterly ridiculous. She obviously had verbal diarrhea. Add that to her overly-saccharine disposition, and an obvious tendency towards confusion – she was just way, way too much.
“Um… where do you get Rainbow from?” he asked, wanting to change the subject but already grappling to find some common conversational ground between them.
“They come after the stormy rain!” She swooshed her arms around and swayed from side to side. She was like the Energizer Bunny on speed. And she was so cheerful it almost made him nauseous.
“Huh?” He felt his brow furrow as he tried to figure out what she was talking about.
“Rainbows. They come out after the rain…” She stuck out her wrist to show Marcus a garishly-colored rainbow tattoo. “I’ve always loved them.”
Marcus surreptitiously looked her up and down again, hoping his expression wasn’t betraying how harshly he was judging her. “Mmm, I can see that.”
“And you’re Marcus. Aries.” Without warning, she grabbed his hand and started shaking it violently. Her bangles knocked about again, making a noise that he imagined must be reminiscent of some kind of tribal drumming circle. Perhaps that was the intention.
Marcus pulled his hand away as the overly-enthusiastic handshake threatened to turn into a full-blown fist-pumping session. “Not Aries. My surname is Lewis.”
“No, no,” she giggled, as though he was making a joke. “Your star sign is Aries. I did some research on you, just to check out our compatibility vibey-vibes.”
Vibey-vibes? Saccharine, verbose, confused, over-energized and nonsensical. His mind boggled.
“And what did you discover?” he asked, playing along out of sheer morbid curiosity. Marcus gave astrology about as much credence as stories of Big Foot and the tooth fairy.
“Well, we’re very, very sexually compatible,” she reported seriously. She seemed to emphasize the word “very” rather a lot. He wasn’t sure he liked it. “We’re both fire signs – I’m a Sag. But we wouldn’t be good in a relationship. Too fiery. Too stubborn, too many arguments and differences of opinion. But we can become friends,” she concluded with yet another overly-eager smile.
Despite himself, Marcus had to admit that he agreed with some of what she said. He could never be in a relationship with her, that was for sure. He was also stubborn, he knew that. Argumentative – yes. Fiery – most definitely.
But there was one thing he vehemently disagreed with: there was no way, no way, they were sexually compatible. None. She wasn’t his type, at all. He usually liked women whose hair didn’t remind him of a toddler’s colorful finger painting. He wouldn’t sleep with her if she was the last woman on the planet, and he suspected the feeling was mutual. He probably wasn’t her type either – he clearly didn’t have dreadlocks, wear tie-dye clothes, play the didgeridoo, and read people’s auras, or whatever else her ilk was up to these days.
But the flight that day was eighteen hours long. Seven-and-a-half to Dubai, with a three-hour stopover, and then another six to Prague. So despite their glaring differences, he would have to make nice.
“Here, why don’t you sit down?” Marcus asked as he moved his briefcase off the chair next to him. Stormy smiled and tossed her bags down on the floor with a loud thud as she flopped down next to him. He glanced down at her carelessly discarded luggage, and once the literal dust had settled, he tried not to recoil in horror.
Exhibit A was a strange ethnic looking embroidered handbag that looked like it had been dragged through a swamp sideways, and Exhibit B was none other than an old brown guitar box covered in tattered stickers and black marker scribbles. He quickly shifted his foot and nudged his pristine leather briefcase a little further away from her belongings, wondering whether hepatitis was a suitcase-to-suitcase transmitted disease.
Marcus turned back to his newspaper, acutely aware of the invasive new presence next to him. Trying to make himself comfortable again, he continued to flick through the financial pages… where was he before being so abruptly interrupted? Oh, yes, the benefits of investing in platinum…
He was just starting to regain his focus when he felt a sharp blow to his ribs. Ouch!
“Sorry,” Stormy smiled apologetically as Marcus turned to see her trying to cross her legs on the narrow chairs.
“What are you doing?” He was trying to hide the irritation in his voice, but it was difficult under the circumstances.
“I’m just going to do some meditation before taking off.” He watched in fascination as she fluttered her eyes closed, made some strange humming sound, breathed in and out loudly and then let her hands come to rest in a kind of praying position. She was like an alien creature. She might as well have come from another planet. It was a miracle they even spoke the same language, breathed the same kind of air.
Deciding to ignore her, he turned back to his stock reports. But her deliberate, wheezy breathing was driving him mad, and his years of training as a lawyer meant he couldn’t keep quiet when he had an objection. “Do you mind?”
Stormy turned to look at him. “Mind what?”
“Your breathing is very loud. I’m trying to read the paper.”
Stormy smiled broadly. There was absolutely no sign of fear or offence on her face, which was the type of reaction he was used to eliciting when using that specific tone. “Someone’s a grumpy grump,” she replied in a lively tone, and then much to his horror, poked his shoulder.
If there was one thing he hated, it was unnecessary touching. Especially from strangers. But it only got worse, as the poke turned into a squeeze, which then turned into a rub. “Mmmm, I see,” she said, nodding her head knowingly while kneading his neck.
Marcus pulled away quickly. “See what?”
“You carry a lot of tension in your shoulders. In fact, some deep breathing exercises would really help to unblock your throat chakra – I think that’s probably the cause of it.”
“My shoulders and chakras are fine, thanks.” Shifting as far away from her as the narrow seat would allow, he flipped the paper open again and held it close to his face, trying to create a barrier between them.
But Stormy didn’t take the hint and peered over the top of his paper. “Fine, suit yourself, but it’s going to start giving you back pain and headaches. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I’m sure I can handle it.”
There was no doubt that Marcus was one of the most blocked people Stormy had ever met, and she wasn’t just referring to his throat chakra and severely knotted shoulders. Even though it was the weekend, he was wearing a terribly claustrophobic looking long-sleeved shirty thing with big buttons and tight cuffs, and a black waistcoat, of all things. He looked like he was going to a funeral, not going on a happy wedding holiday.
But right now, she had bigger concerns than his throat chakra and those ridiculously shiny lace-up shoes that were so highly polished you could see your reflection in them. She glanced up at the board above their gate: ten minutes until they started boarding, and she was starting to freak out. She could feel the anxiety bubbling up inside her. She’d drunk an entire pot of chamomile tea before leaving for the airport, and when that hadn’t helped, she’d practically inhaled the contents of the bloody teabag. But she was still terrified. Because on top of her usual fear of flying, there was something else too.
Something terrible.
Something truly frightening.
Something she couldn’t ignore.
She’d run all the numbers. She’d checked the cards three times and even called on her spiritual guide, and they all said the same thing.
Today was not a good day to travel. At all. No siree!
The signs were all there, and they were flashing. They were flashing like a cheap disco ball at a high school dance. Her horoscope had explicitly stated that today was ‘not a good day for any kind of travel’. There was going to be some kind of big incident, the cards had said. A life-changing incident, the numbers had confirmed. A series of fateful incidents, her spiritual guide, Su-Wong, had told her. But she’d promised Lilly that she would be at the wedding. There was nothing she could do other than arm herself with some sage and amber stones for protection, and hope for the best.
She’d been practicing her deep breathing relaxation meditation for the past few days, and it had been working. That is, until a few minutes ago, when Mr. Grumpy-Tight-Shirt had so rudely interrupted her. Now she felt even worse. She’d only flown once in her entire life, and it had been a total disaster. Granted, she’d taken magic mushrooms prior to the flight, and that’s probably why the roof had looked like it was melting, the floor had grown tentacles and she had been convinced the plane was going to fall out the sky. But still, it had scarred her for life. She’d never taken mushrooms – or any other illicit substance – ever again, though this was something most people found difficult to believe about her. For some reason, people were always asking her where they could buy acid. She had no idea why. Lilly had once suggested that maybe it had something to do with the way she dressed, but she couldn’t see what that had to do with the price of potatoes.
“Flight E579 to Dubai is now boarding at gate 12,” a tinny announcement broke her train of thought. The voice sent chills down her spine.
“Come.” Marcus was already on his feet, picking up her bags and heading for the gate.
Stormy froze as the fear and panic seized every muscle in her body and turned all her joints to slabs of cold concrete. She couldn’t do this.
Every single one of her six-and-a-half senses knew it. She could practically smell it. Something big was about to happen. Something potentially life-changing. She could feel it.
No! She just couldn’t. There was no way she could get onto that plane.
3
Bouncing baby panda bears
Marcus only noticed that Stormy wasn’t behind him as he was handing his ticket over. He turned to discover (to his absolute irritation) that she hadn’t moved. She looked like a mime artist who had frozen into position. Marcus huffed as he put his ticket back in his pocket and broke away from the queue.
But as he moved closer to her, he saw nothing but fear and trepidation etched on her face. For the first time since meeting her, he looked into her eyes. He was both startled and unsettled. She had the greenest eyes he’d ever seen – not a light, insipid green, but a rich, dark emerald green that was intensified by her pale, porcelain skin. And right now, those green eyes were wide and glassy with terror. He held her gaze for a moment as a strange feeling surged through his body and settled in his stomach. His irritation suddenly melted away, giving rise to… to what, exactly? He quickly pushed the unfamiliar feeling aside – he didn’t like the unfamiliar.
“Are you coming?” he asked, pointing at the boarding gate.
Stormy blinked several times and then looked up at him like a terrified deer in the headlights. Were those…? Yes, tears had welled up in her eyes. Was she seriously crying? Over a flight? This was ridiculous. She was clearly way too sensitive. Or irrational, or unreasonable or something emotional and womanly like that. Just another thing to add to the list of her most annoying attributes.Saccharine, verbose, nonsensical and overly-sensitive. (And possibly a mime artist.)
“Stormy-Rain… um, Stormy, Rainbow… STORMY…” Shit this was confusing. “There’s nothing to worr
y about, flying is safer than driving.”
But as those words had left his mouth, almost as if on cue, tears started streaming down her face. Marcus was not used to open displays of emotion like this, especially in public, and he automatically looked around to see if her meltdown was attracting an audience. The last thing he wanted was to be seen with a crying woman. What would people think?
“If we were meant to fly, we would have been given wings,” Stormy said in between slightly breathy whimpers.
“What?” Marcus shook his head, wondering if he’d understood her properly. This was the worst logic he’d ever heard. “If we were meant to travel across the sea, we would have been given gills –” he started to counter her argument, adopting his most reasonable courtroom voice – only he wasn’t expecting what came next.
“We do have gills in utero, they just close before we’re born.”
Marcus stared at Stormy, trying to figure out how the hell he could respond to that. He had no clue. But there was no time to try and figure out how her brain worked – and anyway, even if he had the luxury of an entire decade, he would probably never figure that out. It was clear that she operated on another page – no, perhaps an entirely different book. The gates were closing in five minutes and if he did not get her on the flight, Damien and Lilly would be furious.
