When Lina Vale Became Elena Valenti Again

Over the next twenty-four hours, I kept cleaning my life out of the apartment. The plant by the window went to the neighbor. The books I actually loved went into a box marked for storage pickup. The matching couple mugs Julian never used went into the trash.

He noticed none of it. What he did notice was that I stopped asking questions. He mistook silence for obedience and looked almost pleased.

“See?” he said the next morning, eating the boxed pasta I had boiled without even heating up sauce because I no longer cared. “This is better. No drama.”

I wiped the counter. "Good for you."

"Clara’s birthday is tonight. A few people from the crew are grabbing dinner. You’re coming."

My hand paused. "Why?"

"You always complained I never introduced you to people at work. Here’s your chance. Don’t be weird about it."

Years ago, when I begged to meet his circle, he said pilots talked about things I wouldn’t understand. Now he wanted me there because Clara would be the center of the room.

"Fine," I said.

By eight, we were in a private room at a sleek Japanese restaurant downtown. Six crew members were already inside. Clara sat at the head of the table in a white silk dress, a delicate necklace glittering at her throat. I recognized the necklace from Julian’s shopping bag.

She stood with a bright smile. "Lina, hi! I’ve heard so much about you. Julian talks about you all the time."

She reached for my hand. I stepped back. "Happy birthday."

The room cooled by several degrees. Julian lowered his voice as he pulled out my chair. "Don’t embarrass me tonight."

Dinner started. They talked about turbulence, route bidding, airport hotels, and which air-traffic controllers were nightmares. I understood more than Julian would have liked, but I didn’t bother joining in.

A first officer lifted his glass. "Say what you want, Hayes has the smoothest landings in the company. Clara knows best. When he’s up front, she can pour coffee in the back without spilling a drop."

Clara laughed, cheeks pink. "He saved my nerves on that Narita thunderstorm flight. I was freaking out, and he texted me from the cockpit, [I’m here. Don’t be scared.] After that, I was fine."

The table broke into teasing cheers. Julian smiled and didn’t deny a word.

I remembered that flight. Weather delayed him for five hours. I called him again and again because the storm warning looked ugly and I couldn’t sleep. He finally texted, [Busy. Don’t add to the mess.]

So that was where his patience had gone.

Clara turned to me with soft, accusing eyes. "Lina, do you usually let Julian skip meals? He came to simulator training yesterday without breakfast. We were all worried."

The table went quiet. I put down my cup. "He’s a grown man. He knows how to order food."

Clara’s eyes reddened on cue. "I didn’t mean anything. I just care about him."

Julian’s chopsticks hit the table. "Enough."

I looked at him. "Enough what?"

"She was being kind. You don’t have to bite her head off because you’re insecure."

"Insecure?"

"Don’t play dumb." His jaw tightened. "Everyone came out to celebrate, and you’re making it ugly. Apologize."

I picked up my bag. "If someone cares about your stomach that much, she can take over. I’m done."

He stood so fast his chair scraped the floor. "Walk out that door and don’t expect me to chase you."

I paused at the door and looked back at him. Clara sat beside him with wet eyes and a victorious little curve at the corner of her mouth.

"I stopped expecting that a long time ago."