Chit Chat With Charles

Charles readjusted his seat for the third time in ten minutes. Damn did planes make him nervous. He flew frequently but with all the plane crashes this year, he couldn’t prevent his hands shaking. Something just felt off about this flight. He leaned back and closed his eyes, taking a steadying breath.

“First time flying?”

Charles turned to his left, his eyes falling on a balding man with a rough, hadn't seen a razor much less a mirror, in a few days look to him. He had a smirk on his face, a teasing look. The look of a child trying not to spill a secret.

“No, just tired.” The words left Charles’ lips politely, yet curt. Hopefully the man would see Charles was not in the mood for chit chat.

“I haven’t flown in a long while. My first time flying? Oh that was a doozy. I was so nervous I had so much to drink I thought the plane was crashing. You ever get like that?” The words seemed to spill out of the man's mouth. Why’d he have to mention plane crashes. Now that was back on his mind. He needed a drink. When was the stewardess gonna come by with the menu?

“Not the chatty type I see. It's okay. Don’t mind me, I just get a bit nervous before these things. Talk a lot. You want a drink? I’m dying for a drink.”

The rumble of the plane leaving the ground filled the air. Not long after the stewardess came by and brought them drinks. The two men sat in stiff silence for a while. Even though Charles had his eyes shut, he could feel the man beside him glaring at him.

“Can I help you with something?” Charles asked.

The man visibly perked up. A look of recognition flashing across his face. He furrowed his brows and leaned in, Charles could smell the whiskey on his breath.

“Hope you don't mind me asking, but you look familiar. You famous or something?” Once more there was a hint of veiled excitement in his voice. Like a child asking for ice cream before dinner. Charles took a sip from his own drink, a Bloody Mary.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about but please leave me alone. I’m trying to get through this flight in peace.”

“No, no, no. I know you from somewhere I just know it!” The man leaned back, brows knitted so intensely one might assume they were sewn together. The man snapped his fingers, a light ‘aha!’ escaping his lips.

“You were on the news!” the man exclaimed in a sort of hushed whisper-yell. Charles felt his blood still for a moment. Hadn’t his PR guys scrubbed that little story?

“I don’t know what you are talking about. You must be mistaken.”

The man leaned back again. His eyes shut, finger wagging in front of him as if he were swiping through notes on his phone.

“Yeah, yeah, you were on the news. Charles something… You ran over that one lady! What was her name…”

Charles felt his face flush. What was the point of that damn firm if they couldn’t even do this right. As soon as the plane landed they were going to get screamed at. He would make sure they never landed another job again. He would ruin their goddamn-

“Should you be drinking that?” The man was glaring at his half drunken Bloody Mary.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, what do you care?” The words left his mouth in a sneer.

“I had one too much to drink that night. It happens to the best of us. Does that mean I can’t just move on with my life already. I went to court, I paid the fee, now let me drink in peace.” Charles could feel a sharp pain just behind his eye. Great the migraines had started again. Remembering those long hours in court just made the pain come back. It always did. Charles’ small outburst seemed to shut the man up. He was still wearing an obnoxious smile on his face.

“What’s so funny?” Charles’ mouth felt dry. And the pain in his head started working its way down. A harsh stabbing inching its way down his neck. 

“Oh nothing, I just remembered the woman’s name is all. Marie.” he let out a soft giggle.

“See, it's funny because you’re drinking a Bloody Mary. Mary. Marie.” He burst out into a fit of chuckles, feigning wiping away a tear. Charles went to say something but no sound came out. His mouth was dry and numb. It felt like he had swallowed sand and chased it with some dirt. It was worse than the feeling of Novocain.

Panic swelled in his chest as the pain in his back grew sharper. He tried moving his arms to signal to the man to get help but the numbness was working its way through him quickly. His body seemed to sink further into the seat of the plane. Charles felt his head loll back into the headrest. He felt the man’s warm breath grace his ear.

“Oh I can see you can’t move anymore. It’s okay, that means it’s working!” The man placed an eye mask over Charles’ eyes. He tried to flail, to move, to signal for help. Nothing was working. He then saw the world go black.

“I’m so glad I could catch the plane really. I was worried you’d slip out of town before I could finish the job! Man, Bertram would not have been happy. I already took a down payment, you see.”

Charles tried to focus on the words, but they drifted into his ears lazily. Everything sounded a bit distant, and a loud ringing began to buzz in his ears. He felt hot, dizzy, and nauseated. And the man just kept droning on. What the hell was happening. Why was this happening? Who is this-

___________________________________________

Rob watched Charles’ head roll to the side. He leaned forward in his seat to inspect Charles. Dammit did he die already? He took a quick glance around. No stewardess, the other passengers were sleeping. He slipped his finger on Charles’ neck. No pulse. Damn. He really had to work on his monologues. They weren’t THAT boring were they? He leaned back into his chair and turned on the mini TV on the plane. What to watch? These next 7 hours were going to drag by. Hopefully London has some good food. He hadn’t been to Europe before. How exciting.