asleep.
“Miss,” the stewardess tried to get her attention again.
“I heard you,” Marsha said over her shoulder in perfect English, startling the obviously prejudiced woman. She had thought she would intimidate the Middle Eastern-clad woman, assuming she spoke no English. “We have a couple of minutes and he’s almost asleep. Or do you want him to scream his lungs off to the discomfort of the other passengers?” her tone matched the woman’s.
The stewardess was startled, but knew she had the upper hand. She decided to continue on with her seatbelt check, but when she returned, if the woman wasn’t in her seatbelt….
“Is he okay?” Pete whispered from across the aisle, still with the phony accent in case anyone was listening.
Marsha smiled at the query. Amir was nearly out, just fighting the last vestiges of sleep out of sheer orneriness. She’d like to think this was because Zabi was his father, but she knew it was probably her own genes that made this endearing little boy so ornery. He finally closed his eyes as he saw her smile down on him, his own mouth curled into a smile of its own before relaxing into a cherub’s kiss. Marsha pulled her hand away slowly, cautiously, and saw that he was out. She looked up at Bahir and smiled at the good little girl who had put on her own buckle, fascinated with the contraption, and who returned the smile and then looked out the window at the activity around the plane. It was getting dark so the lights were captivating.
Marsha sat back in her chair and fastened her seatbelt as she turned to answer Pete’s question. “He’s just tired. Aren’t we all?”
He nodded with a slight smile, leaning forward to check on Bahir. He sat back in time for the stewardess to come forward, checking again for those she’d had to speak to including Marsha and her party. Her lips pursed in disapproval as she saw that the woman and her children were all buckled in. She thought to say something about having a baby seat for the toddler, but thought better of pushing it. They’d already proven confrontational. She didn’t need that headache on what would be a long flight.
Once they were airborne and the seatbelt light was off, Marsha reclined her chair slightly and encouraged Bahir, her silent little girl, to come and sit with her in her arms. They snuggled together, enjoying their time together and before either knew it, they had fallen asleep. It was only as breakfast was being served that Marsha awoke with a jerk. She was certain someone had bumped into her. When she looked up and saw the cart and the stewardess, she was positive. She glared her annoyance at the woman, the chador hiding the rest of her face, but her eyes quite expressive. Her arm was asleep from where Bahir had lain on it, but using her good arm, she carefully lifted the young girl to place her back in her own seat. She never woke as Marsha buckled her in.
“Would you like anything?” the stewardess asked now that she saw the woman was awake.
“Maybe later,” Marsha said quietly, staring the woman down. She was feeling very uneasy, the baby making her nauseous. She rethought and said, “Um, I’ve changed my mind. May I have a little 7up please?”
The woman, who had begun to move on sighed loudly and obliged. She made sure plenty of ice was in the little cup before pouring 7up into it, which meant the passenger got very little of the beverage. She handed it to the passenger, considering ‘accidentally’ spilling it on the woman and her expensive outfit, and then reconsidered. Why antagonize her further?
“Thank you,” Marsha said politely as she pulled down the chador to take a drink. She knew if she were wearing the black chador or her black burqa, she might be expected to drink through the material. To her that had been ridiculous and one of the many painful lessons she had learned from Zabi and Malekah. “Could I have the whole
“Miss,” the stewardess tried to get her attention again.
“I heard you,” Marsha said over her shoulder in perfect English, startling the obviously prejudiced woman. She had thought she would intimidate the Middle Eastern-clad woman, assuming she spoke no English. “We have a couple of minutes and he’s almost asleep. Or do you want him to scream his lungs off to the discomfort of the other passengers?” her tone matched the woman’s.
The stewardess was startled, but knew she had the upper hand. She decided to continue on with her seatbelt check, but when she returned, if the woman wasn’t in her seatbelt….
“Is he okay?” Pete whispered from across the aisle, still with the phony accent in case anyone was listening.
Marsha smiled at the query. Amir was nearly out, just fighting the last vestiges of sleep out of sheer orneriness. She’d like to think this was because Zabi was his father, but she knew it was probably her own genes that made this endearing little boy so ornery. He finally closed his eyes as he saw her smile down on him, his own mouth curled into a smile of its own before relaxing into a cherub’s kiss. Marsha pulled her hand away slowly, cautiously, and saw that he was out. She looked up at Bahir and smiled at the good little girl who had put on her own buckle, fascinated with the contraption, and who returned the smile and then looked out the window at the activity around the plane. It was getting dark so the lights were captivating.
Marsha sat back in her chair and fastened her seatbelt as she turned to answer Pete’s question. “He’s just tired. Aren’t we all?”
He nodded with a slight smile, leaning forward to check on Bahir. He sat back in time for the stewardess to come forward, checking again for those she’d had to speak to including Marsha and her party. Her lips pursed in disapproval as she saw that the woman and her children were all buckled in. She thought to say something about having a baby seat for the toddler, but thought better of pushing it. They’d already proven confrontational. She didn’t need that headache on what would be a long flight.
Once they were airborne and the seatbelt light was off, Marsha reclined her chair slightly and encouraged Bahir, her silent little girl, to come and sit with her in her arms. They snuggled together, enjoying their time together and before either knew it, they had fallen asleep. It was only as breakfast was being served that Marsha awoke with a jerk. She was certain someone had bumped into her. When she looked up and saw the cart and the stewardess, she was positive. She glared her annoyance at the woman, the chador hiding the rest of her face, but her eyes quite expressive. Her arm was asleep from where Bahir had lain on it, but using her good arm, she carefully lifted the young girl to place her back in her own seat. She never woke as Marsha buckled her in.
“Would you like anything?” the stewardess asked now that she saw the woman was awake.
“Maybe later,” Marsha said quietly, staring the woman down. She was feeling very uneasy, the baby making her nauseous. She rethought and said, “Um, I’ve changed my mind. May I have a little 7up please?”
The woman, who had begun to move on sighed loudly and obliged. She made sure plenty of ice was in the little cup before pouring 7up into it, which meant the passenger got very little of the beverage. She handed it to the passenger, considering ‘accidentally’ spilling it on the woman and her expensive outfit, and then reconsidered. Why antagonize her further?
“Thank you,” Marsha said politely as she pulled down the chador to take a drink. She knew if she were wearing the black chador or her black burqa, she might be expected to drink through the material. To her that had been ridiculous and one of the many painful lessons she had learned from Zabi and Malekah. “Could I have the whole
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