The Nightingale Cries, Too

Florence Nightingale would have a fit. Overused and pilfered through with a million cliches, no one should blame the near-saint for turning over in her grave. Never would it have been predicted that to be called such denotes grave connotations, ones bordering on pathetic, at that. To have injured souls and bruised sentiments sacrificed on the altar of self-respect is a far cry from the healing that Miss Nightingale so aptly gave.
And yet, what is happening to so many women today? The desire to help, to cure, to nurse - the nature of the female heart, surely - has become a distortion which inevitably sprouts self-loathing and begets certain disappointment.
As a constant purveyor of the ravaged male spirit, I am, frankly, exhausted with my seeming inability to accept a man who has not been wounded almost beyond repair. Whether it be involuntary or a twisted form of defense, I nevertheless refuse to meet the eyes of an undamaged fellow.
Fair traits stare me in the face oftentimes, the whole of a man stands in brightness before me, barely scathed by the blades of sordid pasts, of impeded futures. And yet, I look past him, through him, even, to the crouching figure in the dark distance, scars on his skin and waryness in his wake; his disconsolate gaze wreaks havoc on my heart, and with such a glance, I leave the light and run into the shadow, assured only one thing - agony.
I ache to be free of my disease. For a disease it must be, indeed, as it causes pain and hurt so deep that only Father Time may ever see the remedy. In the end, his ocean of tears that I so valiantly tried to stave will do naught but wash over me, even as I attempt to build the wall inside, a dam to fortify my spirit so that it may remain untouched while I purify and bandage and revive.
But it matters not.

I always drown.

Celebrity Sightings

A grueling day of the Boston-Baltimore shuttle loomed blackly in the distance as my crew and I made our way to the cerulean-splashed jetway door in Massachusetts. I noticed him sitting by the big bay-like windows and shot an appraising glace his way as I am apt to do when a chocolate gaze locks mine. His eyes struck me as a pair I'd seen before but the rest of his face was hidden from view as he chattered into his cell, so I boxed up the familiarity to be examined later.
Several "hellos" and "welcome aboards" later and Velvet Eyes was right in front of me as I realized I did recognize his sweet elfin face. He threw an accent-lined joke over his shoulder to his friend and I knew with a start where I precisely I'd seen him.
Boy A.
It was an obscure Indie film I'd rented from Netflix weeks earlier, one rank with a disturbing plot and an ending that was far from satisfactory. Still, this young Brit had given a jolly good performance and I admired his talent for carrying so heavy a movie on his own.
My fellow crewmember Summer suddenly whispered excitedly that Boy A's tow-headed friend was also a purveyor of acting, and starred in a film recently about a theme park in 1987. Hurriedly I checked the manifest for their names, but unfortunately Jesse Eisenberg and Andrew Garfield were gonna need Google's help before I made a fool of myself. A minute later and Summer's iPhone lit with the answer - indeed we had movie stars on board.
They all settled in and the gate agent mentioned a group was altogether and I determined it must be a production company of some sort due to their equipment bags and computers. I felt a bit star-struck, mostly because I hadn't seen much of a smile out of either boy and I wondered if they would be kind.
Twenty minutes later, after the seatbelt sign went ding and I served drinks, Adventureland got up to stretch his legs.
"So let me ask you something," I said as cooly as possible when he approached the plastic-coated floor of the galley.
"What was it like being in a film with Bella Swan?"
I watched his adorable awkwardness as he pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose and seemed to falter for a moment.
"Oh, uh, Kristen Stewart?"
"Yes, didn't she star in Adventureland with you?"
He grinned. "Yes, yes she did, and it was awesome working with her. She's a lot of fun. Did you see the movie?"
I shrugged sheepishly.
"Well, I will tell you that I wanted to see it, but once I realized that Kristen Stewart starred, I rethought my decision. Anything she has ever been in has sucked in my opinion. I don't think she can act."
"Well, I wouldn't judge her until you've seen Adventureland. I haven't seen Twilight because my friend said it was so incredibly ridiculous."
"Your friend was right!" I laughed.
"Yeah, it sucks to be famous for such a dumb movie. Everyone sort of assumes that's all you can do."
"So your friend back there, the one who fell asleep, wasn't he in Boy A?"
He gaped at me.
"You've seen his film?"
I laughed. "Well, yeah, I'm a big Indie film fan and I'm pretty much obsessed with Netflix. But I thought he did an excellent job!"
"Don't ruin the end for me! I've only seen the first twenty minutes. But he's not gonna believe you've seen it! I'm gonna go wake him up and tell him."
"No, don't do that!" I giggled. "I'm sure I'll have a chance to talk to him. But in the meantime, can I have a picture with you once I finish service?"
He smiled broadly.
"Sure thing."

I hurried to serve the rest of the cabin, noting sadly that Boy A never roused from slumber, laughing inwardly as he channled his character by bearing an outfit similar to one in the film. Service completed, I passed by Jesse's seat and noticed he was reading one of my favorite books, "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime."
"Good book."
He looked up in surprise.
"You've read this?"
"Yeah, and my favorite part is at the end," I said as I quoted my favorite line. He followed me to the galley as we continued our conversation, and Summer snapped our photo while I teased him about misjudging my blonde roots.
We discussed all manner of things as the flight hour drew to a close.
Where the Wild Things Are.
His disappoinment with Little Mermaid on Broadway. My enchantment with it.
Queens, NYC, his hometown.
An argument about which Office version is better, UK or US.
His newest film role, Mark Zuckerburg, founder of Facebook, also a victim of Asperger's Syndrome. Hence the reason for his current book.
My plans to teach English overseas.
My favorite independent films.
Zombieland, The Squid and the Whale - his other major films.
My keen interest in diversity.
Our mutual love of Seattle.
Discussing if indeed Libras and Geminis are compatible.
We laughed and teased and I was surprised at his down-to-earth attitude.
The seatbelt sign came on and still we talked. I noticed with glee that Boy A was now awake and Jesse prodded me to speak to him.
"It'll make his day."
I skittered to his seat as he pushed his beret from his sleepy eyes, and congratulated him on a job well done. He beamed.
"Thank you so much," he purred in his British tenor. "So where are you from?" he asked, as if it were hard to tell with an accent like mine. I laughed, affecting an exaggerated twang.
"I'm from Georgia. Cain't ya tell?"
"Ah, but it's a beautiful accent." He grinned. "The Brits have a thing for it!"
I mentioned how alike his character he appeared, with his hood flung over his hat and the zipper to his neck.
"Ach, I promise I don't always wear hoodies," he said sheepishly, ears crimson as he pushed his hood back and unzipped his jacket. I giggled.
"Come take a picture!" I playfully demanded as I marched back to the galley.
Jesse followed suit and I snuggled myself next to Andrew as Summer readied the camera.
"Wow, this is quite a change! Usually I'm the one snapping pictures of fans with Jesse."
I wiggled closer and said cheese and beckoned for Jesse in a group shot.
"Oh how lucky am I! Two hotties in one photo! Doesn't happen very often," I teased.
"I'm pretty sure we are the lucky ones, what with a hottie stewardess and all," Boy A grinned at me.
The camera went flash and Adventureland turned to Boy A.
"Did she tell you? Did you tell him?" He turned to me in earnest.
"Tell him what?"
"Your life plan and all that. You know, teaching and Seattle and your favorite films."
"But why do you want to know about me? You're the movie stars here!" I protested with a laugh.
"Because you're interesting and smart." He turned to Andrew. "Dude, she's quoting my book!"
"Is that right? Impressive. Sorry I slept the entire flight or we could have chatted. But Jesse told me you liked my film so I knew it was safe to relax," he siad in mock seriousness.
"Yes, well, I think Jesse and I may have discovered we are soulmates, so alike are we." I threaded my arm through Jesse's. "But then again, I'm a sucker for accents, so maybe it's you, Andrew." I sidled over to him.
"Nice," Boy A beamed at me.
"Well, I have an accent!" Jesse proclaimed. "A New York accent, different from yours, does that count?"
"Boys, boys, feel free to fight over me!"
They laughed and sadly it was time to land, so we all reluctantly took our seats. Upon leaving both boys gave me enormous hugs and I wished them luck in their careers. I was sad to see them go and thought how unfortunate that we couldn't be friends.
"Remember me when you read my favorite quote!" I yelled after Jesse.
"I couldn't forget," he smiled, and with a wink, he disappeared into the distance.