Belong to YouBy: Vi Keeland
“Can I get you something to drink?” Startled out of my daydream by the perky flight attendant, it took me a minute to snap out of my thoughts. I was in such a fog that I couldn’t be sure if I had just woken, and the last week was a dream, or if it was really an unforgettable memory.
“I’ll have a vodka cranberry and she’ll have a merlot. You’ll have to excuse her, she’s spent the last week fucking her brains out with a gorgeous stranger and can’t seem to snap out of it.” Sienna smiled to the appalled flight attendant, a pleasant looking mid forties woman who was wearing way too many pins on her bulging uniform. From the look on her face, I was sure the flight attendant wasn’t used to a raunchy mouth like Sienna in first class. I looked around and saw most of the other passengers looked well bred and refined, more like they were dressed for an uppity tennis match than a twelve hour flight from Honolulu to New York. Sienna would have stood out, even if she didn’t have a mouth like a truck driver.
Sienna McAllister had been my best friend since the third grade. We became kindred spirits on our first day in chorus, when we realized that we could sing in natural harmony together without as much as a beat of music. Twenty years later, our lives had taken us down very different paths, but it never dulled our bond.
Aside from being the same age, we had nothing in common on the outside anymore. Sienna looked like she just walked out of a rock band, with her wild, dark thick curly hair falling around her alabaster skin and black tight fitting clothes coupled with five inch laced up leather boots. If her voluptuous curves straining her tight clothes weren’t enough to catch an eye as she passed by, the hundred or so bracelets she wore half way up her arms actually played a sweet jingle as she moved.
I, on the other hand, had a penchant for pink and all things girly. My long, thick, blonde, straight hair was almost white after a week in the sun and stood in stark contrast to my deeply tanned skin and the wild woman sitting next to me. When I was younger, I hated my olive skin and deeply contrasting bright blonde hair. It was an unusual combination to have such tan skin and natural blonde hair and most people assumed I was a bottle blonde. My dad used to tell me that I was special because I bound together my mom’s Swedish ancestry with his Italian heritage. But, as I suspected most kids did in their teens at some point, I wanted to look like someone else. It took me until I was in my late teens to stop fighting my looks and to learn to play them up.
The flight attendant brought us our drinks and scurried away with a hesitant smile. It was obvious that she was trying to avoid hearing any more about our vacation, which Sienna would have surely divulged, if given the opportunity. Sienna enjoyed shocking uptight people with her crass mouth, watching them squirm was a sport for her.
Sienna raised her glass to me in a toast. “To the best damn honeymoon, I’ve ever been on.” I laughed and shook my head as we clinked glasses and both tipped our heads back to drink.
One week earlier.
A full day of sun after we landed left me exhausted. I must not have been thinking straight when I booked a direct overnight flight from New York to Honolulu. Did I really think that I would land at 8am and feel fresh and relaxed, ready to take on the first day of my honeymoon? A two hour nap on the beach did nothing to shake off my jetlag, and by 8pm, as I was getting ready for a night out with Sienna, I had started to wonder what I got myself into.
We arrived at the resort’s Japanese restaurant and I silently reminded myself that I needed to eat, even though I was not very hungry at all. The last time I had went out drinking with Sienna without eating, Michael had to carry me up the stairs, when I passed out face down on the floor in the kitchen. Hating that thoughts of Michael still uncontrollably filled my memory, I took a deep breath and pushed all thoughts of him out of my head, determined not to let him ruin our honeymoon even more than he already had.
After we ordered, a pretty waitress wearing a traditional red kimono delivered us drinks served in coconuts with cute little purple umbrellas. “Thank you, but we didn’t order those.” I said as she started to put the drinks in front of us. The waitress smiled at me and silently pointed to the other end of the restaurant where I saw a table of a dozen men, one of which was holding up a drink and smiling.