The woman in Seat 11A

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She occupied Seat 11A on the long, red-eye flight from San Diego to Pittsburgh, while I was in 11C and the seat between us was vacant. Twenty-five years later she still occupies my mind from time to time.The last words she spoke to me were, “I’ll never forget you.”Whether she has, I’ll not ever know but she remains burned into my memories like a brand into a hide. If someday Alzheimer’s eats my brain, I sincerely hope that those precious cells where she is stored remain intact until my last breath.Throughout this story, I’m calling her Eleven because we never exchanged names and so my only frame of reference for one of the great, if brief, passions of my life is her, in Seat 11A on the big Boeing jetliner.The young woman appeared in her mid-twenties. She was petite – a little under five feet – waifishly thin, probably well-proportioned size O. Eleven was attractive – not a knockout – but girl-next-door pretty. She wore a white cable-knit sweater and a blue stonewashed denim skirt that rode about halfway up her eye-catching thighs.Eleven had good legs peeking out from that skirt and Penny Loafers on her tiny feet. She had a nice smile, mostly-even teeth, a pert little nose, soft brown eyes, and blonde hair nicely framing her face in a pixie cut. “Cute” is probably as good a one-word description of Eleven as any.The only flaws evident were one slightly crooked tooth and a crescent-shaped scar on one knee. Her jewelry was minimalist, smallish post earrings, a plain gold cross on a wisp of chain, an old-fashioned ring that I’m guessing was her mother’s and an ankle bracelet. She held a paperback novel with her boarding pass stub serving as a bookmark. I found myself hoping that 11A wouldn’t read.Like most air passengers, we began a conversation with travel talk. Eleven said she was glad that she’d recently quit smoking because ours was a long, non-smoking flight back when that first became the rule of the sky. I had recently çankaya escort quit a two-plus pack a day habit myself and so we discussed the difficulties of breaking a cigarette addiction.Our conversation was interrupted by the FAA-required takeoff safety instructions as we taxied out and eleven turned on her reading light and buried her face in her book during takeoff. Once we reached cruise altitude, the flight attendants began a beverage service and I ended up passing Eleven’s beverage over to her. Whereupon, she closed her book, loosened her seatbelt enough to turn towards me and pull one knee up onto the empty seat between us and crossed her leg over the knee.It’s an odd fact of life that people will confide the intimacies of their life’s story with a total stranger. Also, for reasons that I’ve never really understood, my personality is such that women tend to confide in me.Eleven said that she was on her way home to attend a funeral for an aunt and she began telling me a little about the woman. Something about her aunt must’ve triggered a memory because Eleven abruptly changed the subject and told me that she ran away from home at seventeen because of incestuous advances by her father.I’m a better problem solver than a listener and so I began telling Eleven about resources for incest survivors such as the twelve-step Incest Survivors Anonymous program and some social service agencies. These might offer counseling services to her on a sliding-scale cost structure. Soon though, it was apparent that she just needed to be heard and so I stopped giving advice and shut up and listened.She had one older brother and her parents were alcoholics. I related to her because although I had six younger siblings, I come from an alcoholic home too. We discussed the effects of alcoholism on children for a while and then Eleven got back into the gory details of her young life. God help me, rus escort I was drawn to this kid and by now we were sitting very close together, baring our souls in hushed voices.Eleven’s escape from a sexually abusive and dominant father came in the form of a small circus traveling through their town and she lied about her age and landed a job as a roustabout – essentially a laborer. She received room and board in one of the crew trailers and a small salary.Still, though, she was away from her miserable excuse of a father. She had wondered if she’d miss her mother but the fact was that the woman was so drunk most of the time that there was no one there to miss.“The lights were on but nobody was home,” Eleven said of her mother, a situation that made leaving bearable.Her brother was away in Vietnam and so there really was no one at home whom she’d miss.Once Eleven had been with the circus for about a week and a half, she fell victim to the randy attentions of a cigar-chomping midget who managed the circus. It was made very clear to her that she was expected to service the manager sexually or be dumped off wherever the trailers were camped for the night.As she hadn’t been paid yet, the only money that Eleven had was what she’d brought from home – something less than thirty dollars. So she resigned herself that just for tonight, she’d have to bear this guy and once she was paid and had some money she’d bolt.As life’s path took her, she didn’t bolt. It was easier to quietly let this guy fuck her once a month or so and keep her job. When he wasn’t with her, he was fucking some of the other women in the little troupe. Sex with him was no big deal – wham bam, see you next-time ma’am. At least the man wasn’t cruel as her father had been.Eleven shivered as she told me how her father used to twist her nipples harshly and pull her hair as he fucked her doggie-style from behind in the few months before eryaman escort she left home. I found myself confiding in Eleven that my own background had been different but not much better. To say that Eleven and I bonded is a gross understatement. Shared pain drew us together like the fields of a cobalt magnet.Eleven went on and said that circus life got better after several months when she and one of the clowns took an interest in each other. This backed off the circus manager who was content to bang the other women and not piss-off his best acrobatic clown.Her guy was a kind and gentle lover, and for the next two years, she stayed in Clown’s trailer. Clown had had a rough life too and essentially, they helped to heal each other somewhat.Clown taught Eleven some basic clown acts and she worked the crowds during the “Come-in” times. This was Carney slang for the hour before people enter the main tent when they are milling around and clowns entertain them with tricks and sight gags. Mostly though, Eleven liked caring for the exotic animals which ultimately led to her present career as a caretaker at the San Diego Zoo.She was surprised to learn that I knew the Carney workers’ form of pig-Latin that they use to speak among themselves around customers. Essentially, one takes a simple word like “help” and inserts ‘eze’ into the word making it ‘heze-elp.’ Money or ‘bucks’ was “beezucks”.Calling another circus worker for help or ‘Hey Rube’ in their lingo was “Heezay Reezube!” I have family in show business and they had taught me the slang dialect when I was a kid.By now, Eleven and I were sitting with our heads so close together that we almost were kissing. I used the lav and noticed the woman sitting in 12B glaring at us in disdain and so I suppose she heard some of our dialogue and disapproved. ‘Who cares?’ I thought.I felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness towards Eleven and at the same time I felt more sexually turned on than I could remember for a long, long time. At that time in my life, my marriage was in a petty bad place and to be honest, the most satisfying part of my sex life was going away on a business trip and masturbating in peace to stories and letters in sex magazines.

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