B]CHAPTER 4[/B]

Stranger:
One who is neither a friend nor an acquaintance.
A foreigner, newcomer, or outsider.
One who is unaccustomed to or unacquainted with something specified; a novice: a stranger to our language; no stranger to hardship.
A visitor or guest.
Law. One that is neither privy nor party to a title, act, or contract.

The flight goes smoothly as honey.
First class seats, cute stewardesses with nice uniforms, free drinks, a decent lunch, fluffy pillows and good movies.
Shane is sitting beside Carmen, sipping the third whiskey of the day.
Carmen peeks at her furtively.
“Hey…”.
Shane turns her head and they stare at each other.
She says nothing.
“What’s wrong with you?”, Carmen whispers.
“Nothing…”, Shane answers.
Then she thinks to herself that’s the first time Carmen asks her something.
So she says.
“I don’t feel well”.
Carmen just blinks.
“What do you mean? You don’t have airsickness, do you?”. Paradoxally, the mere idea doesn’t seem to bother her at all. Maybe she’s picturing a green-faced Shane running around looking for a paper back and trying hard not to vomit on the passengers and she doesn’t. Seem. Bothered. At. All.
“No…No. I am just… I don’t know, I don’t know how to explain it…I feel like shit”, she says grimacing.
“I guess it’s that old fear of flights of yours…”, Carmen mutters nonchalantly.
“A bit… But there’s something else”.
“What is that?”.
Second question in less than a minute. We are making progress, Shane thinks.
And she would like to take the chance and tell her.
Tell her, tell her how you feel. Tell her how ashamed you are about what you did to Jenny, about what you did to her. At the altar that night after Whistler at the beginning of your relationship and with Cherie Jaffe. Tell her that your whole life is starting to replay – and loop – before your eyes and sometimes you feel like you’re chocking. Tell her how just her nearness makes you feel warmen, safer, better. Tell her that you’re sorry about the person she is today and, at the same time, you can’t help but find her so sexy. So glacially sexy. Tell her that you still miss the way she smells, tell her that you miss the way she tastes, that you miss her lips her body her hands caressing your head like she used to do. Tell her. Tell her. Tell her everything.
“What is that?”, Carmen asks again and Shane can’t catch her breath.
Tell her that you’re afraid because she’s touching some deep chords inside of you without even noticing it. Tell her.
“Nothing… I don’t know, Carm… I so would like to tell you how I am feeling, but…”.
Carmen stares at her. Silently and motionlessly, and Shane feels – again – like she’s reading her deep inside.
So she bends her head. It’s something she’s starting to feel familiar with.
After a long time, Carmen says.
“This flight is smooth and you’re scared anyway. Right?”.
“A little, yeah”. Shane stares at her own hands, laying on her lap.
“Alright. And then there is something else that you just can’t tell me. Not now, at least”. She pauses.
“Fine. Really. I am not gonna force you, I am not –“.
“…That kind of girl anymore, yeah…”, Shane sighs in discomfort, not daring to watch her.
The ghost of a smile appears on Carmen’s face. It disappears after a second.
“Well. I can’t do anything about your verbal impotence, but I can do something about your childish fear of flights”.
For a second, Shane is sure – totally sure – that she’s misunderstanding her.
Then, Carmen’s tanned hand appears into her field of view and rests over her sweating fists.