The voice, the wretched voice from his childhood, droned continuously through the line. Unconsciously, he had ceased listening; his pale grey eyes focused with rapt attention on a peculiar spot decorating the ceiling. The spot itself was nothing interesting, just a normal, mundane spot. However, the fact that there was even a spot over his desk was the interesting part. He normally cleaned so meticulously, without even leaving a speck of dust on the carpet.
With a silent sigh, he lifted his head from the back of the chair upon which it had been resting. The phone still pressed to his ear, he stood and wandered his way towards the bookshelves adorning the opposite wall. Gold lettering shone in the light from his desk lamp, looking like sharp, little pieces of wealth. The volumes, mostly – no, solely – law books, were resting quietly, unaffected by the screeching voice of an unhappy mother on the phone with her son.
“Sean Conway!”
Hearing his name called so sharply made his eardrums ring.
“Hm?” he asked, rubbing away the intrusive chiming. He made a mental note to see an audiologist when he returned, fearing that he might have a damaged cochlea.
A sigh crackled through the phone. “Have you even been listening to me?”
Of course not. It was all stuff he had heard before ‘You won’t be young forever, you know.’ ‘There are some nice ladies out there.’ ‘For God’s sake, you’re thirty-one and still unmarried!’ Need he hear more?
“Of course, Mother,” he lied, running a hand through his naturally white hair. It wasn’t that he had gone gray early; it was just what he was born with. White hair, pale eyes, and ivory skin. Throughout school, and even up into law school, he had picked up the nickname, Ghost. He liked it, really. Even the media called him the Ghost Lawyer. It was catchy and provided an interesting sort of fame.
Her nagging voice interrupted his wandering thoughts. “Then do me this one small favor: get married.”
He rolled his eyes. Why did she always insist like this? Marriage is not something to take lightly. Besides, he was still searching for the one woman, the infamous soul mate that is written about in fairy tales. He wanted to meet that woman before he married anyone.
“You need to just go out there and find yourself a nice girl,” his mother continued.
What he needed was a vacation. Luckily, he had enough vacation days saved up so he could take the next month off, if he so chose. He ran through a list of places. Hawaii, the Virgin Islands, Sicily. Then, somehow, his mind settled on Fiji. Yes, he would be sure to go to Fiji…
Sean stared out of the small window. He had never really been fond of airplanes, but the view they offered once in the sky could not compare to anything in the world. However, while on the ground, it was like sitting in a car stopped at a red light. Bland, boring, and with nothing to look at except angry people bustling by.
There was a small commotion next to him. Glancing towards the aisle, he saw a younger woman. Her red hair reminded him of the cherries people put on top of sundaes. It was loosely braided over her shoulder, appearing only just long enough to do so, as if she had only recently decided to let it grow out. Her face, smooth and pearly, was turned down in puzzlement. The sea-green eyes flicked from the small purple suitcase by her side to the overhead compartment. He imagined he could see steam coming out of her ears as her mind worked ferociously. Then, making him jump, she threw a backpack onto the seat next to him, lifted the small case, and shoved it into the compartment with a satisfied huff.
Her face, now brightened by a smile, turned towards Sean. The expression in her eyes held a kind of self-confidence he had never experienced. She looked as though nothing in the world could scare her, let alone stop her.
“Sorry about that,” she apologized brightly, picking up her bag off the seat and plopping down in its place.
Sean forced an understanding smile.
“I’m Alice,” she chimed, extending a slim hand.
He glanced warily from her hand to her face, wondering what kind of ulterior motives drove her to introduce herself. Did she find him handsome or something? The thought brought a genuine smile to his face, as he introduced himself.
“Sean,” he replied, shaking her hand gently.
Her grin glistened in the sun from the open window. “It’s a pleasure, Sean.”
He mumbled some kind remark, unsure why he was even speaking to her. This woman, whoever she was, had made him break one of his cardinal rules for travelling: Never tell anyone your real name. In fact, he almost never told anyone except clients his name, real or otherwise. He was always wary, believing everyone had some criminal intent. He was, after all, a prosecutor, trained to never trust what people say, but only what you find out yourself.
Throughout the loading of passengers and luggage, the chipper Alice made attempts at drawing Sean into conversation. Sometimes it worked, but as soon as he realized what he was doing he would clam up again. He eventually heard her sigh. It was such a defeated sound.
With something pulling at his mind, he turned his grey eyes in her direction, wondering what was wrong. He quickly chided himself. It wasn’t his problem. He barely knew her anyway, so why should he care that she sounded so dismal? Yet, despite everything, he wanted to know why she had sighed so dejectedly, why she had laughed so well earlier, or even the reason behind her smiling upon first meeting him. He found himself wanting to know the little things that made this woman who she was. But why? Why did he feel connected to her, even after so short a span of time? His thought ran deep and long. So long, that he was only brought back by a soft tap on his shoulder. The grey eyes focused on Alice’s cheerful face, then upon the stewardess standing in the aisle.