“What happens?”
“Passengers end up in seats they weren’t originally assigned.”
“My name is on the pass.”
“I can read.”
Maya’s expression changed.
Barely.
Jessica noticed.
“So,” the flight attendant continued, “I’ll need identification.”
Maya looked at her daughter.
Amara had fallen half asleep again against her shoulder.
Maya adjusted the blanket.
Then reached slowly into her handbag.
She removed her driver’s license.
Jessica took it.
Looked at the photograph.
Then Maya.
Then the photograph.
Then Maya again.
The woman filming from Row 4B whispered something into her livestream.
Maya could not hear all of it.
Only:
“…she already showed the ticket…”
Jessica said, “Washington.”
“Yes.”
“Is this address current?”
“Yes.”
“You live in New York?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re traveling to San Francisco?”
Maya waited.
Jessica looked up.
“Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“For business?”
Maya’s eyes narrowed.
“Is that relevant to Seat 12A?”
Jessica inhaled slowly.
“I’m trying to understand the situation.”
“The situation is that your airline sold me a ticket.”
Jessica’s jaw tightened.
“I’m going to speak with the captain.”
Maya extended one hand.
“Then return my license.”
“I’ll bring it back.”
“My license stays with me.”
Jessica’s smile disappeared.
“Ma’am.”
“Return my identification.”
For the first time, Jessica looked uncertain.
The cabin was watching.
Maya could feel it.
Phones.
Eyes.
Silence.
Jessica finally handed over the driver’s license but kept the boarding pass.
“I’ll be back.”
She turned and walked toward the forward galley.
Maya watched her go.
Across the aisle, an older man in a gray suit leaned toward her.
“Are you okay?”
Maya nodded.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“That didn’t look accidental.”
Maya glanced toward the woman livestreaming.
“I’m not going to speculate.”
The older man looked impressed.