Struggle to Forever: a friends to lovers duet

by Lilliana Anderson

  “I won’t bite,” I tell her, wiggling my fingers while her brow furrows like she’s warring with something in her mind.

  Hesitantly, she slips her hand into mine and gives me a light squeeze. “Paige,” she says, snatching her hand back as if I’m made of fire. Then she looks past me like she really wishes I’d piss off.

  I smile at her, enjoying the lingering feel of her touch on my hand. This is the first girl I’ve spoken to in a long time that isn’t giggling and flicking her hair the moment I make eye contact. I like it. I don’t think she likes me, but we’ve both got the same problem, so that makes us friends in my opinion.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Paige. But since we can’t hide out back here the entire flight, I have to ask—what are we going to do about Connie McSnores-a-lot back there?”

  A tiny smile pulls at the corner of her mouth, but it doesn’t turn into anything more than that. Surprisingly, I feel disappointed. I want her to smile at me again like she did before.

  “Is her name really Connie?” she asks, completely serious.

  I chuckle and shake my head slightly. “I have no idea. I just made it up, same as the McSnores-a-lot part. As appropriate as it is, that’s not her name either,” I say, as seriously as I can.

  Suddenly, she’s laughing. Her hand flies up and covers her mouth. She’s trying to keep quiet, but her shoulders are shaking and small sounds are escaping as she gasps for breath. “Do you know what I’ve been calling her?”

  I lift my brow in question.

  “Chatty McChatterson.”

  My shoulders bounce as I laugh along with her. “She just wouldn’t shut up, would she? I thought she’d stop when she fell asleep. But then this noise came out of her.” I’m crying again.

  “I thought she was a bear,” she forces around her cackles, holding her stomach as she hunches forward then leans back and wipes her eyes. “Man, I’m heading to delirium from lack of sleep. I just can’t stop thinking how funny it would be if that really was her name.” She shakes her head from side to side, laughing all over again as she leans back up against the side of the plane.

  I’m just standing here with this huge grin on my face watching her eyes sparkle from tears of laughter.

  “Oh God,” she says, pushing her hair back. “It’s not even that funny.”

  “You got a hold of yourself now?” I ask, as she endeavours to stay calm.

  Nodding, she wipes her eyes and stands up straight again taking a deep breath and attempting to look serious. “Maybe we could ask to move seats. I noticed a couple of empty rows in the middle aisle.”

  “I’ll find a flight attendant.”

  Her eyebrows shoot up as she eyes me off, not looking so amused now. I wonder what I’ve done wrong as I walk toward the front of the plane to find someone who can help us.

  Paige

  I feel like rolling my eyes so hard that they do a full 360 loop. This Elliot guy is so aware of how good looking he is that he thinks he can snap his fingers and get whatever he wants. What makes him so sure a girl who looks like a slightly deranged witch can’t get us new seats? I’m not entirely without charm. And I don’t need some guy ‘helping’ me. I’ve never met one who does anything out of the kindness of his heart.

  I pull a hair elastic out of my pocket and quickly twist my mess of hair into a bun before I hurry to catch up to him, feeling like I have something to prove now.

  However, I’m too late. I can see him already talking to a flight attendant as I get closer. She’s all smiles and coy gestures as she nods agreeably.

  He turns as I approach and winks at me, and I swear my stomach does cartwheels in response. “Paige,” he smiles. “Erin here, will see if she can get us some new seats.”

  Nodding, I watch Erin the perky flight attendant as she flicks her gaze at me but continues to smile only at him. I actually do roll my eyes this time, then I cross my arms and walk back to my original seat, cursing my body for having any sort of response towards him. My hand is still tingling. I decide it’s easier to plonk myself in Elliot’s seat instead of climbing over Connie McSnores-a-lot while I wait to find out where our new seats are.

  Elliot

  The flight attendant leaves to work out where she can move Paige and me to. When I turn around, I’m expecting Paige to still be behind me, but she’s sitting on my old seat, staring at the shuttered window with her arms crossed and her face stern.

  I feel like I keep pissing her off.

  One moment I have her laughing, and the next she seems annoyed with me. I don’t even know why I care, but as I approach her, I can’t help but wish she’d look at me and smile again. She has a beautiful smile. And I get the feeling she will make me work for every single one.

  She’s pulled her hair up in a tight bun, and her profile looks sophisticated with her hair like that. Kind of like a ballerina performing, the elegance in her stance, an expression that shows little more than calm control.

  Connie is still rumbling away in the next seat, her mouth wide open as she lies back. Due to some sort of miracle, the people in front and behind her are managing to sleep. Perhaps they thought to bring sleeping pills too? Something I’ll need to remember the next time I’m on one of these long-haul flights.

  “The flight attendant will find out where she can move us to,” I say, standing in the aisle since there’s no easy place for me to sit.

  Paige’s only answer is a nod as she looks me over, watching as I move to open the overhead locker and take out my carry-on luggage. I continue to feel her eyes on me as I wrestle my backpack out of the confined space. Slinging it over my shoulder before I look down at her, trying to return a gaze with the same intensity she’s giving me. I’m not sure what game we’re playing. But right now, I’ve got nothing but time.

  Paige

  He’s very graceful in his movements considering his size. I like that he is so tall and broad, but doesn’t seem to take up all the space around him. Most guys as muscular as him are all stiff and seem to have trouble with their natural movement. But this Elliot guy carries his bulk as if it was always meant to be there.

  He gets his backpack out of the overhead locker then looks at me, so I lock my eyes with his, waiting for him to say something. But nothing comes, just a quiet challenge that makes me think he wants me to be the one who speaks first. Fat chance, buddy. I can go days without speaking.

  Maybe a full minute of staring passes before he cracks and points upward. “Do you want me to get your stuff too?” he asks.

  Shaking my head, I stand up. “I’ll get it myself.”

  “No problem.” He moves out of my way and looks down at the floor. The movement makes me hesitate because I know I’m being a bit of a bitch. He’s trying to be nice to me, and I keep rebuffing him. And it’s not because I don’t like him, I mean, I don’t even know him. I just have some pretty massive walls when it comes to trusting people—especially men—and I struggle with kindness. It feels unnatural to me.

  I stop with my hands reaching into the locker and look at him until his eyes meet mine. “Thank you, though,” I say. “For the offer… it was very kind of you.” There. I’m not so bitchy after all.

  He gives me a tight smile. Then the flight attendant comes up and touches his arm to get his attention. “I have new seats for you.”

  She gets us settled in a middle row of five empty seats, telling Elliot especially that, “If you need anything else, I’m only too happy to help.”

  Leaning over so she’s forced to meet my eyes, I smile brightly at her. “You are such a doll. Thank you so much for helping us. We really appreciate it.” I say that last part while placing my hand on Elliot’s upper arm. Now she thinks something’s going on between us. I don’t know why I’m doing that, but I keep on smiling, behaving like the other half of a happy couple until she goes away. I’m going to blame it on my tiredness.

  Elliot

  The second Erin walks away, Paige moves one seat over. “I hope you don’t mind,” she say
s. “You’re very broad. I thought you might like the extra space to stretch out.”

  “Thanks.” I smile at her gratefully. She’s right. These seats are ridiculously small.

  She's lifted the arm rests and shifts two seats away from me, her legs resting on the seats between us. Looking at me with heavy-lidded eyes she rests her head against the back of the seat.

  “Why are you going to London?” she asks.

  I lean back then look over at her, deliberating over my answer. Something about this situation makes me think, Fuck it. I will only know this girl for a handful of hours. I may as well tell the truth. “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

  Her eyebrows move closer together as she considers my words, “Who do you think you were before?”

  “A solicitor,” I answer, thinking about how much time I wasted studying for a career I didn’t even want.

  Yawning, she shakes her head. “I didn’t ask what you were, I asked who you were.”

  I look at her for a long moment before I answer, again with truth. “A jerk, I used to be a jerk.”

  “It’s the curse of the good-looking guy. You're all jerks,” she says knowingly.

  I laugh a little at her revelation. “Talking from experience?”

  She shrugs and tilts her head noncommittally in response.

  “So where did your catharsis come from? Some girl break your heart?”

  I can't help but smile at her insight. “I kind of turned into a jerk after that, actually. Before, I don’t know if I was a jerk. I was just living a life that wasn’t mine.”

  “So, you don’t know who you are, and you’re hoping to find yourself on the other side of the world?”

  I rest my head back in the seat and sigh heavily. “I don’t know what I’m hoping. I need a change because I’m sick of just… existing. What about you? Why are you going to London?”

  “Same reason as you, I guess. My life isn’t anywhere near what I used to imagine it would be. Time for a change.” She covers her mouth as she yawns, closing her eyes and working her head into the back of the seat, effectively ending our discussion. I wish she’d stay awake and talk to me some more. I want to know what she thought her life would be, and what kind of change she’s hoping for. Instead, I watch her beautiful face until her breathing deepens and her features soften. It should feel creepy, but it doesn’t. She’s mesmerising.

  Three

  Paige

  I sleep the rest of the flight, only waking when it’s time to fill out paperwork and eat a meal. Blinking rapidly, I yawn and stretch as I right myself within my seat. I look over at Elliot who is rubbing his eyes, also yawning. His hair is sticking up. Which of course, looks really attractive on him. Must have been a hard life for him, looking awesome while everyone else looks shit. My eyes roll involuntarily at the thought. I can’t help feeling resentful towards anyone who had an easy life. Compared to me most people had it easy. So I tend to resent everybody.

  “Morning.” Elliot doesn’t even glance at me. “I think that was the best upright sleep I have ever had in my life. I was exhausted.”

  “Me too,” I say, moving one seat closer so I can take my breakfast tray from the approaching food trolley. “Thank you for not being an obscenely loud snorer.”

  “I wish I could say the same for you.”

  “I don’t snore.” At least I don’t think I do.

  “Everyone snores sometimes.” He smirks, his head jerking back like he’s really amused about something. I’m about to ask him what when the trolley stops near us and we accept our trays. While we’re going over the contents, he sneaks a glance at me, that smirk still present on his lips.

  “What?” I snap, annoyed over the snoring and the smirking.

  He laughs, shaking his head. “You didn’t snore. To be honest, I wouldn’t even know. I passed out the moment I closed my eyes. I was just ribbing you.” He’s still smiling, pleased with his joke.

  I just watch him as he works his way around his food. These people and their regular sense of humour astound me. I wonder what it’s like to be quick to laugh and feel confident teasing a stranger for fun. I’m not a big laugher. My giggling fit in the back of the plane was a rare occurrence for me, caused by exhaustion and not actual humour. My old co-workers used to tell me I was too serious, so I smile because it’s expected. It’s how I fit in. But laughter? I don’t remember the last time I found something truly funny. There’s too much suffering in this world, and it sucks the funny right out of it.

  Pausing mid-chew, Elliot raises his eyebrows. “Are you not eating?”

  “Yeah, I’m eating,” I say, snapping my gaze away from him to focus on my own plate, poking the rubbery looking eggs with my fork. I pull the foil back on my cup of orange juice and take a sip of the cold sweet liquid, gulping greedily as I realise now how thirsty I am.

  “How long are you staying in London, Paige?”

  I frown at my food and shake my head slightly. “I don’t know,” I say, feeling nervous about landing and why I’m going there.

  “You don’t know?” he repeats. “Didn’t you get a visa? A return ticket?”

  I turn my head to look at him. “I have dual citizenship. I don’t need one. My um, father, is from the UK.”

  “Oh,” he says, looking slightly uncomfortable, “I ah… heard you tell Connie your family passed. I’m sorry to hear that.” We lock eyes for a moment. He’s so sincere that I break the connection, suddenly uncomfortable with the lie.

  To cut a long story short, my mother went to London for some business meeting when she was in her early thirties. When she came home, she was pregnant with me. The catch? She was already married to the man I always thought was my father.

  I never understood why I was treated differently from my siblings until after I was kicked out of home and ordered a copy of my birth certificate. My real father is some British guy called Daniel Ashdown. It explains so much about my life. I always thought my parents looked at me with disappointment in their eyes because I wasn’t the star athlete or pupil my siblings were. Now, I think it was sadness; sadness for a lost love and sadness because I was a constant reminder of an infidelity.

  I’m going to London to find out who the other half of my biology belongs to. I don’t know what I’ll do once I see him. I don’t even know what I’m expecting. But, I need to know who he is because he’s affected my life insurmountably without ever meeting me. Maybe seeing him will give me a sense of closure, finality? I’ve been through a tonne of counselling over the last few years while I dealt with the traumas in my past. And while I’ve accepted what happened to me, I feel that finding my biological father is the missing piece of an intricate puzzle. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking? But it’s something I need to do.

  I press my lips together in a tight smile. “I don’t like to talk about my family, but thank you.” He looks away and I pick at my breakfast again.

  We could sit here in silence. The dead family is a pretty excellent conversation stopper. And it’s normally exactly what I want, but in this case I find myself turning back to him and asking questions of my own. Maybe it’s because I know that when we get off this plane this connection will be over? So talking to him feels safe-ish. I don’t know. I don’t hate people. I just struggle to connect with them. I’m too wary.

  “How long are you in London for, Elliot?”

  “Three months,” he answers quickly, his eyes brightening. “I’m working at one of the big health clubs in the gym.”

  “Are you an instructor or something?”

  He nods. “Personal trainer. I saw online that you can go over there for a working holiday. So I signed up, found a flat with some other Aussies, and here I am.”

  “What are you going to do if you find yourself in the UK and then you have to leave it all behind?”

  He lets his head fall against the back of his seat, looks up and shrugs. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought it through that far.”

  Elliot

  Shit.
Now I’m worried. What does happen if I find myself and then I have to leave and go back to my old life? Do I lose it? I look over at her, and she’s studying me. It feels like she’s trying to figure me out. Like I’m some kind of exotic animal she’s never seen before. Strangely, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I kind of enjoy having her eyes on me, even if they’re always assessing.

  “So, you’ve already sorted out a job and a place to stay?” she asks, moving the conversation along.

  “Um, yeah, a friend of a friend is in a share house with a spare room. So I’m moving in there. It’s like, five minutes from a train station. Easy commute for work.”

  She nods, looking slightly impressed. “It’s good you have everything mapped out.”

  “What about you?”

  She laughs. “I obviously didn’t think this through as well as you did. I have a room booked for a couple of weeks at a cheap and probably very nasty hotel. I'll look for work when I get there.”

  “What kind of work do you do?”

  “A little bit of everything,” she says with a vague shrug, just as the flight attendant comes past for our trays.

  I check my watch. We only have another half-hour before we’re due to land. My leg bounces up and down. Fuck I’m nervous. This past year has been full of change. I’m twenty-seven and it’s taken till now for me to be fully independent. I’ve never been one to do things by half measures so I’ve been pushing and pushing to keep my pace moving forwards. It’s not easy starting again. It’s not easy stepping out of your comfort zone. It’s not easy living with twenty-five years worth of regret.

  I keep talking to try to keep calm.

  Paige

  “A little bit of everything,” he repeats. “What kind of job will that get you?”

  “The kind I apply for, I suppose.” I offer a smile as I insert the buds back into my ears. That’s enough conversation for one day.