Allegra sees Ellie finally emerge from the galley. About time! Thank you!
She comes face-to-face with the lady. They exchange a few words. Ellie puts her hand on the lady’s arm.
Well done, Ellie, turn her around, get her back to her seat.
But Ellie smiles and nods at the lady, then steps around her and walks briskly toward Allegra. The lady continues on her way.
Allegra can’t believe it. “Why didn’t you stop her?” she hisses when they reach each other.
“Stop who?” says Ellie. “I’ve been with Anders.” She lowers her voice. “He fainted.”
“What?” For goodness’ sake. “Is he okay?” She’s going to kill him. Intermittent bloody fasting.
“I gave him something to eat,” says Ellie piously. “He’s fine now.”
“Good. Well done. So now please help me stop this lady.” Allegra points.
Ellie turns to look. “That lady? Why? She’s fine. She’s just on her way to the toilet. She mentioned something about having bladder cancer? And being eighty-eight? I said I was sorry and to let us know if she needed anything.”
“No, she doesn’t mean—” Allegra catches herself. “She’s upsetting people. We need to get her back to her seat.”
“The seat-belt sign isn’t on yet,” says Ellie. Her nostrils twitch and she looks aghast at the state of Allegra’s uniform. “What happened to you?”
A passenger says, “You two need to stop the chitchat and get that freaky fortune teller under control.”
A wave of something halfway between laughter and tears builds in Allegra’s chest. She ignores the passenger and keeps walking toward the lady.
Ellie follows. “Sorry, I didn’t realize—wait, was she telling my fortune just now?”
Allegra reaches the lady as she is pointing at a passenger in the second-to-last row.
“I expect—” she says.
“Excuse me.” Allegra’s voice is firm and loud. Her hand hovers respectfully over the lady’s shoulder without actually touching her. “Madam?”
“Please don’t interrupt.” The lady glances back at her. “I need to focus.”
The passenger in the aisle seat is a woman with a crazy mop of curly gray hair and red-framed glasses. “Yes, let her focus!” she says cheerily. “It’s my turn! I want to hear what she has to say.”
“Madam,” sighs Allegra.
“I expect heart failure, age ninety-five.”
The curly-haired woman lifts up her palm. “High-five! I’ll take that! Ninety-five, woo-hoo!”
People are peculiar.
The lady ignores the offer of a high five and turns to the window seat on the other side of the aisle, where a man sits, hunched, his back curved. He’s wearing a black hoodie and AirPods.
The lady points at him. “I expect road injury, age sixty-four.”
He’s oblivious, doesn’t hear, doesn’t respond, will never know he should make a point of looking both ways when he’s sixty-four.
“I really need you to return to your seat now,” says Allegra. “We’re going to be landing in Sydney soon.”
“I expect smoke inhalation, house fire, age fifty-nine.” The lady points at a woman steadily working her way through a bag of chips.
The woman stops, one chip midway to her mouth. “Fire? Where?”
“There is no fire,” says Allegra. “Absolutely not.”
Superhero emerges from the lavatory tugging at the waistband of his jeans.
The lady points up at his big barrel chest. “I expect kidney disease, age ninety-three.”
“Please sit back down now, madam,” says Allegra.
“Once I’ve completed my task,” says the lady.
“I think we’d better do what the flight attendants say,” says the superhero in his deep superhero voice. “They’re in charge.”
He’s like a brick wall. There is no way anyone is getting around him.
“I don’t think I’m done yet!” says the lady. She attempts to peer around the man.
Ellie speaks up. “No, madam, it’s fine, you are done. You’ve, uh, completed your task.”
“I’ve completed my task?” Those words seem to be the magic charm. Apparently even freaky fortune tellers can be task-focused. The lady looks back at Ellie hopefully. “Have I?”
