flight-risk {g.d.}

twelve

:grayson:

we don't speak to each other for an hour and a half.
time seems to move like it would if you were in the sahara desert without a drop of water.

eventually, the sky turns dark, and many people settle down to go to bed. lights shut off in the plane, tv's dim, and the chatter is non existent.

i glance over quickly and see that elizabeth is staring down in her lap, her phone and earbuds discarded on the open middle seat.

i decide to be the bigger person and make the first move.

"i'm sorry."

she turns to me, question in her eyes. "what?"

i make sure she keeps the eye contact before i reply. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have pushed you like that. it was my mistake, and i hope you can forgive me."

she gets a far-away look that spreads over her face. giving a light, non-convincing laugh, she says, "i'm not mad at you, grayson. at least not anymore."

"then- then what are you mad at?" i stutter, utterly confused.

she always has an invisible wall around her. her face says it all. i can just tell that she allows no one to get close enough to hurt her.
i want to break down the walls.

her face softens from stone to velvet. "it's just... my dad." her voice breaks in the end of her sentence, and she looks mad at herself for it.

"let's talk about it."

"no!" she argues, wiping her eyes. "i'm fine. i don't need a stupid granola boys' help with my own life."

my heart stings, but ignore it because i know she's upset right now. "you don't mean that."

"yes i do," she says, but it comes out weak and unconvincing.

"look, lizzy, we have like eight hours-"

"please don't call me lizzy," she asks again softly, but this time she isn't mad. she's sad. her eyes are glossy and wide, pleading.

"why?"

"no-"

"why?" i ask again, gently but with assertiveness.

"because that's what he calls me!" she yells.

i flinch, blinking a bit as i pull back.
"who is he?"

"my dad," she croaks weakly. "my dad calls me lizzy."

i immediately feel bad not respecting her wish to be called elizabeth only. nicknames can come with some emotional, damage i guess.

i close my eyes and whisper, "i'm sorry. again."

"grayson?"

"hm?"

"if i talk, will you listen?"