“I don’t care what you think.”
I turned toward Cheryl.
“My grandmother has severe arthritis. She physically cannot sit squeezed into half a seat.”
Cheryl looked genuinely apologetic.
“I understand. Unfortunately, the flight is completely full.”
Then she addressed the woman again.
“Tiffany, please move toward the window as much as you can.”
So now I knew her name.
Tiffany.
She ignored Cheryl.
Desperate, I turned to the man in the aisle seat.
“Would you switch with me? I’m in row 30. That way I could sit beside my grandmother.”
He finally looked at me.
“I don’t want to get involved.”
I stared at him.
“You wouldn’t have to get involved. You’d just switch seats.”
“I’d rather stay here.”
Grandma touched my arm.
“Rebecca, it’s okay.”
But it wasn’t.
I looked toward row 30 and realized my own seat wasn’t exactly desirable either. I was wedged between a mother holding a crying infant and another passenger who occupied most of his seat.
Grandma gave me a tiny smile.
“Maybe that woman just needs a very big hug.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
“I think she needs a lesson in manners.”
“I’m eighty-six years old,” Grandma reminded me. “I’ve survived worse things than a grumpy airplane passenger.”
Then Tiffany deliberately shoved one hand into her pocket, somehow taking up even more room.
I wanted to scream.
Cheryl promised to bring Grandma an extra pillow once we were airborne.
With no other option, I helped Grandma settle into the tiny space.
She lowered herself carefully onto the edge of the middle seat, turning her body slightly sideways.
Her shoulder pressed against Tiffany.
The seatbelt dug awkwardly into her leg.
Her hands gripped her cane.
I hated every second of it.
“She can’t sit like this for the entire flight,” I muttered.
Tiffany heard me.
She laughed.
“She’s old. She’ll be dead soon anyway.”
I stepped toward her immediately.
Grandma grabbed my wrist.
“Please, Rebecca.”
I froze.
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