‘Are you doing all right?’
Valentino took a peek past Mats into the restroom compartment as soon as Mats started pushing the door open.
‘Yes,’ Mats lied and tried pushing by the flight attendant, who resorted to pressing his hand to the restroom door. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Passengers who’ve been watching you are concerned about your health.’
Valentino nodded towards where Mats had tripped over the man’s leg. Though Mats’ view was blocked by two female flight attendants and a service trolley.
Mats looked at his watch.
It was half past midnight and food was being served?
Then he remembered they’d been delayed. When he booked, he’d been told about a midnight snack, which they were obviously now trying to get out to people.
‘I’m doing great, thanks.’
Valentino didn’t look convinced and he sniffed like a bunny, which produced an exasperated sigh from Mats.
Expecting to be blamed for smoking in the restroom, he said, ‘Maybe the smoking signs aren’t working right?’
He realised he hadn’t tried the flushing alibi, which surely didn’t escape Valentino right outside the door. That explained his scepticism, especially since the sink hadn’t been used – easily confirmed with a glance.
‘You do know I suffer from a fear of flying,’ Mats said, deciding to give the sceptical flight attendant at least some of the truth. ‘I had a panic attack.’
‘Hmm.’ Valentino’s face already showed somewhat more understanding. Only his narrow-lipped smile still annoyed Mats. ‘That last seat you finally decided on not so great after all?’
Mats raised both hands and forced out a smile. He’d now attracted this pretty boy’s ire for the second time in a row. And no matter what he devised to stop this madness – it definitely would not help to be eyed by a wary flight attendant in the process.
‘I needed a moment to myself,’ he explained, as friendly as he could be. ‘Alone, in a secluded room. It helps me.’
‘That so?’
Two words. Yet such a curt reply carried so much sarcasm and mockery. A rage flared up in Mats, scorching all his good intentions.
He didn’t hold back now, even though he knew he was making a mistake and that what he was about to say would only bring the briefest satisfaction. ‘I don’t know what you want from me,’ he said, just loud enough for only Valentino to hear. ‘I booked several seats and I was using the restroom. Neither is a crime, the last I heard. It’s not my fault you’d rather be working on the ground, doing air traffic control, I’m guessing, since you love having control so much. Am I right? Your shirts are wrinkle-free, meaning you buy them yourself instead of letting the airline order them for you. You’ve just polished your shoes, otherwise the carpet wouldn’t be showing so much static, and you keep unconsciously touching your hairline every twenty seconds even though that cement you slathered on your head wouldn’t budge even in a hurricane. But you’re too unrestrained, too impatient, want answers right now and never later. Really would’ve liked to kick that door in, wouldn’t you? Not the best tendency to have when working in a flight tower requires calm and a clear-headed view of things, what with twenty of those dots moving around the monitor all at the same time. Don’t you think?’
Mats knew he had got to him for a second. Maybe not with every word, but his theory had caused a tiny crack in the flight attendant’s mask. The giveaway was Valentino’s quivering lower lip, which he, true to his nature, quickly got back under control.
He bent down to Mats, smiling.
‘You don’t know shit about me,’ he said without losing the put-on smile.
Oh, but I do, Mats thought and cursed, as he so often had in life, his lack of self-control. I know for example that you are now my greatest enemy on this plane.
Essentially, Mats hated himself for using cheap psychological tricks even though he could excuse them as required by extenuating circumstances. His pregnant daughter was fighting for her life, and a madman was blackmailing him to commit mass murder. It was only logical that he’d target a weak person as an outlet for his powerless rage.
‘Listen, I’m sorry, I…’
Mats broke off his half-hearted apology, having noticed Valentino taking a step back in near revulsion.
‘What’s the matter?’ Mats asked, yet he could already tell. A second later he could even taste it.
The blood.
Trickling out of his own nose.
Oh, damn, not that too.
When he was excited he sometimes got a bloody nose. Harmless, but not pleasant.
Mats grabbed his face and was about to disappear back into the restroom when he got a sneaky idea.
‘How dare you?’ he hissed at Valentino, who understandably wrinkled his brow in confusion.
‘Come again?’
‘Why’d you just do that?’
‘Do what?’ His eyes showed even more anger.
‘Hit me!’
Mats displayed his blood-smeared fingers, letting the blood drip right on the carpet.
‘I, I… didn’t do any such thing—’
‘Oh yeah, then why am I bleeding?’
Mats had raised his voice. The curtain to his left didn’t let him see if anyone noticed on that side, but up the aisle to the right a young woman turned around in her seat.
‘Go get Kaja Claussen right now,’ Mats whispered, landing the mental knock-out blow on Valentino.
‘Kaja? How do you know—’
‘I want to speak to your supervisor, immediately.’