The plane hums all around us. Sasha is sprawled across from me in a cream leather seat, ankles crossed, flipping through a Russian architecture magazine like this is all just another day in his impossibly charmed life—which, I suppose, it is. At my side, Mom’s glued to the window, tracing cloud shapes with her finger.
I can’t remember the last time I felt so happy.
Sasha looks up. “If you’re cold, Ms. Ward, there’s a blanket beneath the seat right there. I could also have the attendant bring us tea, if you’d like a drink…?”
My mom laughs giddily. “Tea time at forty thousand feet sounds delightful. Thank you.”
Nodding, Sasha rises and goes to talk to the cabin crew. As soon as he’s a step away, Mama clutches my elbow and does the squeeee noise she’s been emitting at regular intervals si
