“Hey, bug,” June said when the phone changed hands.
“Are you in jail?”
“I'm in Denver. Certain similarities, but you can get a better burrito here.”
“They said that lady was going to get arrested. And you own a whole bunch of airplanes. If you own them, why do I have to stay with my bottom on the seat when we take off?”
“I don't own any airplanes.”
“Well, I thought so. Your car doesn't even have two same-colored doors.”
This was a relief. Ada's humor meant her feet were still under her.
“I've got the tape. A man on the plane felt sick and we stopped to let him get help. That's the only reason I'm going to be late.”
“Did the lady say you couldn't have lunch?”
“She said it pretty plainly.”
“Did you tell her she hurt your feelings?”
June looked at the little wall separating her from the passengers in front. There was a long scratch in the plastic and a little nick at the top, as though somebody had been counting something in hard times. “I haven't done that yet.”
“Mrs. Klein says you ought to tell somebody when they hurt your feelings. But she means you can tell a different grown-up, in case the first grown-up is the one that's being a jerk.”
“That is a very good piece of advice. I will take it under advisement.”
“Is that like a doctor's advisement?”
“It's like I'm still getting up the nerve.”
A long thoughtful silence. Ada breathed through her mouth when she thought hard. “I bet she is too.”
“Getting up the nerve for what?”
“To say she did it.”
A clatter on the other end. The roller skates had evidently found a negotiator with more grit than the judge or the dentist. Ada had to go. She did not, as she sometimes did, ask June to promise that she would come. This somehow made it harder.
Daniel had stood up to get a sweater from the overhead bin. The person who took his place in the aisle was Meredith. She'd washed her hands recently. Her knuckles were red and one of them had a blue vein in the shape of a question mark. She held a foil box with a folded piece of silver tape on one corner.
“This is yours,” she said.
June looked up at her. All at once she was very tired of food.
“What made it mine in the last hour?”
“It was always yours. I put it aside for a passenger in the front row. He has a status that lets him choose after takeoff and he usually wants chicken. He took the beef instead.”
“So you had it.”
“Yes.”
“On what grounds did you figure I'd be the one you could tell to make do?”
Meredith took a breath. “Can we speak up front?”
“I'm fine here.”
The woman looked at the people around them, then got to her knees so they could be at something like the same height. It did not feel theatrical. It felt as though Meredith was solving a problem of scale. Her voice would not carry much beyond their two heads now.
“I saw what you were wearing. I saw you board at the end of the first group. I thought you'd got a last-minute upgrade. Sometimes they put somebody up here after the cabin list closes. There isn't a meal loaded for them. That's what I told myself.”
“Even though you had a card with my name on it.”
“Yes.”
“Did you read it?”
“I did.”
“Then you knew.”
Meredith set the foil tray between them. “Yes.”
There was an odd little loosening beneath June's breastbone. She had not known how urgently she needed the other person to give up the pretense that they both knew how a person could be mistaken in this situation. It was one thing to have lunch withheld and another to be asked to do the work of imagining an innocent explanation for it.
“You know, I drive a bus. I think about who I'm serving all day. Sometimes I don't particularly like the look of somebody. I still have to open the door.”
“I know.” Meredith put her hands on her knees. “My father drove an airport shuttle for twenty years. He would have been ashamed to hear what I said to you.”
“That's between you and him. Did you write those words on the card?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Meredith thought about it. “One of my trainers used to say it. I put it on there for the galley attendant who would take over after I went on break.”
“Do you write it often?”
“I don't want to give you an answer I'm going to discover isn't true.”
It was a strange thing to say. Most people, when offered one small exit, took it before the door shut. June studied her empty hands. The nails were cut so close there was scarcely a white edge.
Meredith went on. “I have written it before. I don't know how often. When I do it I don't usually notice I have done anything. Does that make sense?”
“It does,” June said. “It isn't reassuring.”
“No.” Meredith stood up awkwardly, favoring the right knee as she got her balance. “For what it's worth, I am sorry I treated you that way. I am sorry I made you ask again. Would you like the chicken warmed?”
“I think I would.”
“Shall I bring some new potatoes with it?”
“Same meal you offered everybody else. Whatever comes with that.”