Lost in Flight (2 page)

There was a glint in Riley’s green eyes and a half-smile on his face.  His hair was tousled in a way that looked seductive rather than frightening - like hers did. 
This-was-so-not-fair.

Christina knew she shouldn’t be, but she was furious with him and defaulted to the habit of their relationship:  open combat.  Some patterns are hard to break and as she rounded on him she noticed the smile drop off his face.  She blurted in the highest and mightiest tone she could summon. 

“What did you do to me last night?  Did you put something in my drink?”

Riley kept the amused look on his face, but there was an edge to it.  His response to Christina was friendly, but sharp.  “I wasn’t anywhere near your drinks last night, honey.”  He pointed at the bed and his body.  “You got here all on your own.” 

Gesticulating at the room and bed, Christina snapped.  “Well, how the hell did I get here?  The last I remember – before waking up – is being…” Actually, she wasn’t sure about that either.

The smile was back on Riley’s face for real now and his eyes were glinting with amusement.  “I don’t know where you were.  You got dropped off by Bonnie and Mandy in the early hours of the morning, and stripped naked – right there – at the end of the bed, demanding, and I, agh, quote:  ‘bad mama jama sex’.  So…” he shrugged, “I just obliged.” 

Christina couldn’t believe this was happening, but once Riley had said it, she had a vague recollection of being at some nightclub with her friends and they’d played that stupid “Bad Mama Jama” song.  Damn disco!  She also had a hazy memory of smoking weed and throwing her shoes on a bar roof.

Riley looked like he was really enjoying himself and was barely concealing his laughter.  He threw the covers back and stood up stark naked.  He grabbed his underpants and started hauling them on, followed by his jeans.  Christina knew this was the signal for her to exit and start damage control, so she pretended to be looking anywhere else except at him.

Christina turned away to let Riley get dressed in private and winced when she heard him say.  “Don’t be shy.  You weren’t last night and it’s not like you haven’t seen it all before, right?  Now isn’t the time for propriety
Ms.
Martin
.  You were a wild insistent, bad ass last night.  Ye-ah.” 

Then, he actually burst out laughing.  Loud guffawing laughs that went on for some time.  Christina couldn’t decide what she wanted more:  her to die or him.

Trying to regain some measure of dignity, Christina decided to use her best authoritative lawyer’s voice on Riley, but made it ten times worse.  Mustering as much decorum as she could, she sniffed and looked down her nose at him in disdain.  There was quite a height difference, which made it difficult, but she was determined to make her point.

“Look.  Okay – I don’t know what happened last night.  It’s all really weird and… um, unusual, because, well, I just don’t like you like
that
anymore.” 

The laughing started again and this time, Riley doubled over placing his hands on his thighs to stop from rolling around on the floor.  When he got back under control, he looked directly at her.  “Really?  Cause last night - when I was buried in you up to the hilt and you were screaming my name, you seemed to like me plenty.”

Christina went all shades of scarlet and grabbed the bedroom door handle, which wouldn’t open.  She tried one way and then the other, but the damn thing was stuck.  She even kicked it, but as she was barefoot all it did was hurt her toes. 

While she was swearing and cursing, Riley came up behind her saying “easy” and with one move, opened the door.  He said in her ear, which made the skin on the back of her neck tingle.  “It’s a bit temperamental.  You know, like ex-wives.” 

She bolted through the door as fast as possible wanting to put as much distance between Riley and herself as she could.  Christina wanted to sit down and cry, but that would have to wait.  She’d also done enough crying about Riley over the years and the last thing she was going to do was give him the satisfaction of bursting into tears right in front of him. 

Riley followed behind her out of the bedroom perfectly at ease with the situation.  He wasn’t attempting to stop Christina from leaving and was relishing in her obvious discomfort.  She supposed she couldn’t blame him.  The last time she’d left him, she hadn’t been as gentle as she could have with his feelings.

Trying to maintain a polite façade, Christina asked him.  “Do you know where my handbag is?” 

Riley shrugged.  “No, but if it turns up, I promise I’ll drop it off.” 

Drop it off?
 
Uh-uh:  she did not want that
.  “I really don’t think that’s necessary,” Christina said hurriedly, trying to hide the horror she felt, “I mean if you find anything, you could just leave it in the mailbox.”

Riley’s smile was back now wider than ever and Christina knew he had no intention of being discreet about this.  There would be some prolonged saga where he handed over her misplaced possessions, like mementos of last night’s indiscretions, and she was supposed to be grateful.  She actually had horrible visions of him handing her handbag over to her brother, Johnny, and telling him she’d stayed over.

Johnny wouldn’t care, but Christina didn’t want him or anyone else to know.  To try and avert disaster, Christina defaulted to an absurd polite position.  She didn’t have much hope of reclaiming her dignity from this situation, but she could at least try. 

In actuality, she just wanted to go somewhere and hide, or maybe die, or wake up in 20 years, like Rip van Winkle.  Actually, a shower and a good scrub with detergent, and then hide.  In that order, but maybe a drink first, combined with a change of clothes and sleep.  That would go some way to making her feel a bit better. 

Christina still wanted to use the bathroom, but that would have to wait.  Escape was the top priority.  At this moment, she wanted to escape from this man, this house, this situation, this town, and also, herself.

She heard Riley sigh.  “Listen, we can just forget this whole thing happened – if you want.  I mean it’s fine by me.  No hard – I mean no loss - big deal…  Okay?” 

The word “hard” made Christina cringe and when she looked at him his green eyes were sparkling with malicious glee.  He was working overtime not to laugh directly in her face again and she wanted to slap him so badly her hand itched.  Christina knew that Riley knew this, but she also knew he couldn’t resist the opportunity to bait her or prolong her acute embarrassment.  As they say, karma is a bitch and obviously, hers had come now. 

Riley had the audacity to look Christina straight in the face and say.  “I suppose it’s customary in these situations to offer my, um, ‘guest’ breakfast.”  When she looked at him like she wanted to strangle him, he laughed outright. 

“No?  Perhaps a ride home then?  You seem to have more experience in these situations… ”  With a shrug of his broad shoulders, he said,“ how about I take direction from you?”

It was one thing to be a slut with your ex-husband, but to basically be called one by him to your face?  That was quite another and it wasn’t the first time.  Actually, correction:  that wasn’t true.  The other time he’d called her a “whore.” 

Christina’s eyes narrowed at his gall.  Straightening herself up to her full height of 5’6 to his 6’, she snapped.  “No thank you.  I’ll be fine.  I think I’ll just be on my way.  But could I have a drink first please?  And I’d like to borrow some footwear.”

Riley blinked.  “Christina, my feet are almost twice the size of yours…”

“Well, I guess I’ll need some socks too.  You can have them back when you find my stuff.  I’ll leave them in a box on the porch.”  It would be marked ‘dick-face-douche’, but she didn’t tell him that.

Riley sighed and went into the bedroom, returning with some flip-flops and socks.  It took three pairs to make them semi-fit and Christina knew she looked ridiculous, but she couldn’t cross the Riley farm without something on her feet.  She resolutely ignored Riley’s snort of laughter when she stood up and nearly tripped over.  “Let me drive you home, Christina, come on,” he laughed, “you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Christina squeezed her eyes shut and when she opened them, Riley was staring at her intently.  She already had opened herself up to a world of hurt that was only going to end in disaster.  Mustering a smile, Christina shook her head.  “No thank you.  I’ll be fine.  I’d like a drink first please and then I’ll be on my way.” 

Riley raised an eyebrow and walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge.  He did his best host with the most impersonation, which was designed to irritate her, and it worked.  “What do you want to drink?  I have orange juice, apple juice and cranberry…  There’s water…  or would my lady prefer something alcoholic?”  

Seeing her face blanch Riley answered with a wide-eyed stare, “No?  Are you sure?  I’ve got beer, scotch, bourbon, a bit of rum somewhere, and some tequila.”

The thought of alcohol made her stomach roil and Christina felt the color drain from her face.  She shook her head quickly, making her vision blur.  She said quickly.  “Agh, apple juice with water will be really nice.  Thank you.” 

Riley poured her drink – just the way she liked it.  Walking over, he handed the glass to her and watched her virtually down it in one go.  Holding the glass out to Riley, Christina asked if he would mind getting her another one. 

He mock bowed and got another glass for her and after downing the second one, she decided she was fit enough to leave, or more explicitly, get the hell out of there.  She also really wished Riley would put a shirt on.  It was as if he was just rubbing their accidental intimacy in her face.

Thanking him politely, which hid her real desire of slapping him upside the head repeatedly, Christina walked through the front door as dignified as she could.  The bright sun hit her directly in the eyes with the force of a thousand needles and she actually staggered.  Christina grimaced when she heard Riley laugh behind her and with a cheery, “No kiss goodbye?  Okay then.  See ya,” he closed the door leaving her to embark alone on her walk of shame.

Chapter One – Runway

Christina, Shanwick, The Present, Saturday 6 October 2012

This was ridiculous.  Christina felt like she had slut written all over her.  The little blue dress she had on was obviously for going out and not for daytime.  She had no bra on and the clicking noise of the flip-flops kept time with the pounding in her head.  The remnants of last night’s make-up, not to mention
THE
hair, made her look like she was an extra from a horror movie. 

It was five miles across country to her home and all she hoped was that she didn’t run into anyone along the way.  Christina had no idea how she was going to explain this to her brother, Johnny.  Her head was so fuzzy she couldn’t even think of a plausible story.

Negotiating five miles of fences, grass, stones, and animals when hung-over, and inappropriately dressed was something Christina hoped to never repeat in this lifetime.  She also had the vague feeling she was being followed, but just put it down to city paranoia.  She was in her hometown of Shanwick, population 12,000, and mainly horrible.  The only person that could get into trouble here was Christina, especially with
him
in residence.  

She paused for a moment and grimaced. 
How the hell did this happen?
  She was nearly 28 years old, not some idiot woman-child and she knew better, or she thought she did.  In the deep dark recesses of her mind, the ones she didn’t visit often, she knew what the real problem was.  It was her vagina:  her stupid, unreliable, weak vagina. 

Christina straightened her shoulders and resolve.  Her new motto was “don’t look behind” which covered a raft of things, including brief memories of last night:  memories that involved naked flesh, slapping sounds, yelling, sexual positions and dirty, dirty words.  She inwardly cursed herself for allowing her brain to be overruled by her unreliable vagina when that horrible man was in close proximity.

She decided then and there:  this was it.  No more.  They were poisonous for one another.  They had once loved each other more than she thought possible, but that was then and this was now.  He hated her and wished she were dead.  She knew this because he once told her: verbatim.

Christina put her hands on her hips and nodded with grim determination.  She needed to be ruthless and she was good at that.  She was no longer some weak young girl that had stars in her eyes.  No.  She was dark and twisty, and disciplined. 

Looking at the empty landscape, Christina made a promise, saying aloud.  “It was just ex-sex. 
Meaningless
. 
Nothing
.  I am better than that and I will not sleep with a man that hates me because…”

Christina paused.  Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton wool, but she knew she needed a strong closing argument.  Scratching around for a phrase that would encompass her thoughts, she settled on.  “Because… I have an iron vagina.  Yes, an iron vagina and I will no longer be a slave to my own stupidity.”

She groaned and rolled her eyes at herself.  Saying it out loud made it just sound ridiculous.  She knew what she was trying to say, but it didn’t work as the spoken word.  Sometimes, it really was better to remain silent and leave words in the interior of your mind.

To Christina, it was a myth that your soul mate brings you bliss.  Hers brought up every one of her unresolved issues and drove her bat-shit crazy.  Where ‘true love’ was concerned, Christina was a fundamentalist cynic.  She believed it existed, but it didn’t run smoothly, nor did it conquer all. 

In her experience, there was no happy ever after, just a massive pile of regrets and shame.  Anyone who believed different had a form of false consciousness or access to really good pills.  She’d once had true love, it didn’t work out: the end. 

Christina always suspected if she and Riley were in the same vicinity, something like this might happen.  But having it happen and being reality were two totally different things.  Apparently, she was just one drink too many away from going and making a fool of herself with him.  Again.