I'm Praying for a Parachute. What About You?
rpf. allison janney & john spencer. g. Her vocal chords snap the second she goes through the gate.
So high, everyone will look like ants and you don't have wings.
Her heart is in her throat, suffocating her before she can even reach the too tight space of a too large metal tube. John's got the window seat, not because he enjoys watching the clouds stay still or the window develop crystals in the corner - it's out of obligation. Unspoken of course. Allison would never ask him to take that seat just to save herself. (Well, maybe she would. Maybe.) She knows as well as he that she can't even form the words in order to do so. Her vocal chords snap the second she goes through the gate.
John's tried what she does, touching the aircraft and saying a whispered prayer, but he's learned that it doesn’t work. Not for him. His aviophobia is one that likes to toy with logic. Safety is danger, there is no "safety", safety doesn't exist at thirty-thousand feet. It's nauseating and he can feel it rooting deep inside his brain and finding refuge in the medulla. The sickness nestles in and runs it wild, causing his heart rate to flare and all he wants to do is talk it down, so he does.
"Hey Allison," he breathes.
"Hi John," she snaps and slowly, but as fast as her body allows, locates her headphones.
"Those are huge," he says and a strained laugh follows.
"Yeah. They are."
He can see her hands shake gently as she covers her ears and closes her eyes, mouth in the tightest line. It leaves him with only silence. It echoes and roars and he cannot stand it and starts fidgeting.
"Oh God. John, please stop," she begs her eyes snapping open with his trembling, and with wide eyes she looks around the space just to make sure.
"Sorry."
Just before sliding the headphones back on she looks at him for the first time. "Hey, when the lady -" the window is what she sees and she flicks her eyes to her feet. "When she comes back order the strongest thing she has okay," she asks and it sounds like on giant word, but he nods.
He sees her white knuckling the arm rest and decides taking the long, tense appendage into his would be best for the both of them. Slender fingers wrapping into short ones and it catches Allison off guard letting irritation, bewilderment and relief play tricks with her face.
John squeezes her hand. "Flying buddies, okay?"
Allison just nods her head and grimaces.
He knows she's really trying to smile.
So high, everyone will look like ants and you don't have wings.
Her heart is in her throat, suffocating her before she can even reach the too tight space of a too large metal tube. John's got the window seat, not because he enjoys watching the clouds stay still or the window develop crystals in the corner - it's out of obligation. Unspoken of course. Allison would never ask him to take that seat just to save herself. (Well, maybe she would. Maybe.) She knows as well as he that she can't even form the words in order to do so. Her vocal chords snap the second she goes through the gate.
John's tried what she does, touching the aircraft and saying a whispered prayer, but he's learned that it doesn’t work. Not for him. His aviophobia is one that likes to toy with logic. Safety is danger, there is no "safety", safety doesn't exist at thirty-thousand feet. It's nauseating and he can feel it rooting deep inside his brain and finding refuge in the medulla. The sickness nestles in and runs it wild, causing his heart rate to flare and all he wants to do is talk it down, so he does.
"Hey Allison," he breathes.
"Hi John," she snaps and slowly, but as fast as her body allows, locates her headphones.
"Those are huge," he says and a strained laugh follows.
"Yeah. They are."
He can see her hands shake gently as she covers her ears and closes her eyes, mouth in the tightest line. It leaves him with only silence. It echoes and roars and he cannot stand it and starts fidgeting.
"Oh God. John, please stop," she begs her eyes snapping open with his trembling, and with wide eyes she looks around the space just to make sure.
"Sorry."
Just before sliding the headphones back on she looks at him for the first time. "Hey, when the lady -" the window is what she sees and she flicks her eyes to her feet. "When she comes back order the strongest thing she has okay," she asks and it sounds like on giant word, but he nods.
He sees her white knuckling the arm rest and decides taking the long, tense appendage into his would be best for the both of them. Slender fingers wrapping into short ones and it catches Allison off guard letting irritation, bewilderment and relief play tricks with her face.
John squeezes her hand. "Flying buddies, okay?"
Allison just nods her head and grimaces.
He knows she's really trying to smile.