The hand fan. If only she had the hand fan. Then she could sneak into the airplane’s restroom and cool her face for a few minutes. No, not just her face! She’d slip out of this awful silver plastic jumpsuit and fan herself properly. In fact, she’d take off her bra too, so her breasts could enjoy the fresh air. She’d splash herself with a little water and move the delicate lace fan as if her life depended on it. She might even lower her panties a bit. Just enough to let her backside feel a little breeze and a few drops of water.
She closed her eyes and daydreamed about standing in the airplane restroom, with her clothes at her ankles, half-pulled-down panties, and bra, fanning herself. A few days ago, Adél imagined herself with Pali, making wild love while banknotes lay scattered across the enormous bedroom. But Pali wasn’t going to have sex with her anymore. The wealthy man had long only taken women under thirty to bed, not those in their fifties.
Adél could easily pass for being over ten years younger. She usually did. When she sensed a man wasn’t going to be around for long, she’d tell him she was thirty-eight. With two hours of exercise a day and drinking three liters of water, she didn’t look a day older than that. Neither did her skin. But somehow, things still weren’t working out.
She hadn’t had success with men since her second divorce. But between her two marriages, men were at her feet. After she found out Dénes had cheated on her, everything fell apart. It was as if the words “not good enough” were written on her forehead. She couldn’t even manage to regularly sleep with someone anymore. She considered herself lucky if she managed to bring a man back to her apartment once every six months. Sometimes it went well, and other times she’d spend days shaking with disgust. As for Pali…
It was her friend’s idea for her to go to Tenerife. She said the island was full of wealthy tourists just waiting to have an adventure with a beautiful woman. And Adél was beautiful. Moreover, she stood out, easy to spot in a crowd. She almost exclusively wore silver clothes. She adorned herself with thick silver (colored) jewelry. Naturally, her bag and shoes were also silver. Adél was convinced that this color unconsciously reminded people of wealth and elegance. Anyone who saw her would immediately think Adél was a wealthy, refined lady. Surely, a rich businessman’s gaze would land on her much faster than on someone wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
Who would have thought it would be so damn hot on this lousy plane? The seatbelt sign lit up, signaling that she had to stay seated. Of course, just when sweat was pouring from her armpits and the back of her neck. She’d pass out if she didn’t get to the restroom soon. She squeezed her eyes shut. She imagined herself as a princess, sitting in a silver carriage with Pali. They were on their way to a ball, and the ride was a bit bumpy. Of course, it was bumpy, the road was cobblestone. Pali was sensually caressing her hand, whispering in her ear that he desired her.
“Are you alright, ma’am?” the flight attendant asked in a concerned tone.
Adél jolted.
“Yes, I’m fine, I just really need to go to the restroom.”
“You can’t get up now,” the attendant replied, then hesitated, “or is it serious? Should I bring a bag? Or is it something else…”
“No, nothing like that,” Adél cut her off impatiently.
The last thing she needed was for anyone to think she had diarrhea. A refined, elegant woman like her?
“You’ll be able to go soon. I promise I’ll make sure you get priority. Don’t worry.”
Adél’s face flushed, but she swallowed her reply. After all, it was good if she could go first. Maybe the stall wouldn’t smell so strongly of urine.
She hurried toward the exit. The weather forecast had predicted twenty degrees, which wasn’t bad. A pleasant, spring temperature. The buses were probably air-conditioned. She impatiently overtook an elderly couple shuffling ahead of her and practically leaped through the automatic doors. The scorching, searing air hit her face like a well-aimed shovel. For a moment, she stared in confusion at the passersby in summer clothes around her. She felt like crying. The jumpsuit clung to her mercilessly. Exhausted, she joined the long line waiting for the number forty bus. If Pali were still alive, he would have sent a taxi for her.