“I prefer this side,” she said. Her voice was sharp and clipped. “And I really do not care to move once I am settled.”
I looked at the man by the window, but he was staring intently at his folded magazine, his thumb tracing the edge of the page.
“Please,” I said, my hand tightening on my wedding band. “She is only nine.”
“Then she is old enough to sit in a seat by herself for two hours,” the woman said, turning her attention back to her velvet pillow.
The passengers behind me were beginning to murmur, their heavy bags shifting in the aisle.
“Go ahead, sweetie,” I whispered to Allison, my throat feeling tight. “Just sit down. I am right here.”
I watched my daughter sit down next to the woman with the perfectly styled silver hair.
Allison reached for the heavy metal buckle dangling from the side of her seat. Her small fingers fumbled with the metal latch, trying to slide the flat tab into the slot.
The woman in the middle seat shifted her weight, her stiff wool trousers rustling, and let out a long, heavy sigh that sounded like a tire losing air.
I leaned across the narrow aisle from my own seat in row fourteen, my hand automatically going to my gold wedding band, twisting it round and round.
“Do you need some help, sweetie?” I asked, keeping my voice as level as possible.
Allison did not look up. Her head remained bent low, the hood of her grey sweatshirt casting a shadow over her face.
“I can manage,” she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the low hum of the cabin air vents.
