Jen Kwok wakes up in her seat, her eyes flutters open softy in tears at a dream that she could no longer remember why she is crying. But she knows that it was a good dream and a positive vibe that better things are coming her way. Why not? After all she is with the man of her dreams, on their way to Venice, one of the most romantic destinations on the planet for their honeymoon.
In darkness, the man of her dreams is sitting right beside her - Paul Quek whom ironically is not having the most romantic time of his life. Paul is wrapped in whatever blankets and sweaters they could find on the plane; positions himself diagonally with his head hyper-extended, possibly for better airway ventilation, his eyelids swimming in an overactive REM sleep and complete the image of a bubonic plague victim with large pieces of tissue paper plugging up his swollen nostrils to stop the leak.
Poor baby.... She combs his hair sympathetically. Her fingers trails down his arm and finds that he is still clutching on to his work phone. Paul is a workaholic, as competition has always been stiff in the banking industry. Jumping hoops for an upcoming promotion, he sprung straight to work after their wedding and had wanted to postpone their honeymoon.
"Honey?" She shook him lightly as he turns and tosses uncomfortably in his seat, still holding on to his work phone as if his life depends on it. She extracts the phone from his numbing fingers and digs at her corners of the seat for her purse.
That presumably same someone who is a couple of rows behind them coughs explosively again, this time inviting several grunts protesting in unison.
Goodness, everybody is sick... She taps her husband's work phone to see the time. It says ten pm which is about five am in Italy time zone and they have 40 minutes until landing.
The twenty missed calls from his boss is unnerving though. For years she has decided that this man deserves to burn in hell. No, seriously. She met his boss once in a company dinner years ago, they were all in their fancy pants drinking and smoking in the alley and she thought that hey, that was a amicable and friendly boss who bothered to mingle with his staff. It turns out that this asshole boss of her love, is a slave driver who plots at every waking hours to squeeze any last drops of productivity from all of his employees. Invading their every single date nights, precious Bunch hours and even on their wedding day - he called and called, pulling away Paul from the guests! During the cake-cutting ceremony, she was actually scanning the ballroom for signs of that human waste and prepared to throw cake at him if found.
Not today. She huffs and puffs at her rising rage. Not when we are ten thousand kilometers away and we are still bringing you along? Eat dirt, fat face! She squeezes the power button off and dumps the phone into her purse. She pulls out her own phone and immediately she wasn't angry no more.
A little calendar memo blinks at the right upper corner of her phone. When pressed, it shows '10 days'. Ten days ago when she set this notification alarm, she didn't thought that it will actually come to this day. She is somewhat disappointed that it didn't happened in Venice but what the heck, it is still exhilarating. She huffs and puffs now to ease her pounding heart, and grabs on to Paul's left hand. You can do this! You can do this! Her fingers feels her husband's wedding ring. Let's do this.
She unbuckles her seat-belt, moves down the dark aisles of snoring passengers and finds her way to the tiny toilet. Once inside, she locks the door. She looks at the mirror to ready herself. Fishing out a box the size of pimple cream package, she takes a moment to read the instructions. Glancing back at the mirror, she smiles nervously at herself. She opens the box, puts the white stick on the dry sink and pulls down her jeans and underwear. After taking another moment to figure out how she is going to do this, she sits on the toilet bowl with one hand clutching the white stick and has it ready by her vagina. She waits.
Sitting down to what seems like eons. Jen notices a shadow has replaced the light beneath the door. Someone is at the door. Great. More pressure.This is what I need. The door cranks a little. What the fig is this person doing?
The door pushes again.
Caught in an awkward position of trying to pee on a stick, she loses her patience and yells, "Hey! Someone's in here! Red light indicates that the doors are secured, so wait for your damn turn!"
With this release of emotion and distraction, her pee comes trickling onto the white stick. Wiping herself and putting back her pants, she waits for the result. Eying the door gap at the floor, the dim light returns to form an undisrupted horizon.
The intercom comes up with the pilot's deep voice announcing that the plane is currently experiencing air turbulences and advises passengers to remain in their seats with belts buckled. She sits on the toilet lid and hears a sudden outburst of commotion outside the toilet.
A lady voice warns loudly, attempting to draw attention, "Sir, for the last time! Please return to your seat as we are experiencing air turbulences!"
The motion seems to quell until Jen hears the same lady shrieks a distance away, "Sir! It is inappropriate to touch me like that! This is your final warning!"
What is going on out there? Someone had a little too much to drink?
Then a loud shrilly scream shot the plane, nervous feet and verbal noises are heard jostling towards the scream.
Jen feels like that she ought to take a look outside but when she sees on the phone that it has been five minutes since she peed, she holds up the stick for a better look.
Two precise blue lines.
Two of the most beautiful shapes and colors that she ever witnessed.
Jen Kwok is pregnant.
It is then the deep voice of the pilot declares that the plane will land in the nearest Treviso airport because of a medical emergency.
No comments:
Post a Comment