“Are you comfortable?” I asked.
“Comfortable enough.”
That was Grandma’s way of telling me she wasn’t.
Nora promised to check on her and continue looking for another seat.
I kissed Grandma’s forehead and headed toward the back of the plane.
Every step away from her felt wrong.
For illustrative purposes only
PART THREE: THE LITTLE RED WORD
I reached my seat beside a college student and an older man who was already asleep. From there, I could see the top of Grandma’s silver hair between the rows.
The woman in 18A continued angling her phone toward herself. Then I spotted a tiny red word near the top of the screen.
LIVE.
I recognized it because Grandma had once asked me to teach her how livestreams worked. She loved watching people make quilts and restore old furniture, but she never trusted livestreams.
“People are too willing to talk when they think nobody can hear them,” she always said.
As the final passengers boarded, Grandma noticed it too.
She glanced at the woman’s phone, then looked back at me.
I mouthed, She’s live. Grandma lifted her eyebrows, and I nodded.
The woman switched between screens and adjusted her hair in front of the camera, seemingly oblivious. Grandma gave me a knowing smile.
“Should we tell her?” I whispered after the safety demonstration.
“Not yet,” Grandma said.
“And if she doesn’t?”
Grandma rested her hands over the top of her cane.
“Then perhaps the world will explain it more clearly than we could.”
The plane began rolling down the runway.
Grandma closed her eyes as the wheels lifted from the ground. She had never flown before either, and I hated being twenty rows away from her during that moment.
Five minutes after takeoff, the seatbelt sign was still illuminated. The cabin remained quiet except for the steady roar of the engines.
Then Grandma turned slightly toward the woman in 18A.
“Ma’am,” she said. “Excuse me.”
The woman ignored her.
Grandma tried again.
“Ma’am, please, look down.”
The woman pulled one earbud out.
“How dare you?” she snapped. “Leave me alone!”
Several passengers looked over, but Grandma kept her voice calm.
“You really need to look.”
Then she turned, caught my eye, and winked.
The woman frowned before glancing down at her phone.
For a moment, she looked confused.
Then her entire expression changed.
The little red word was still there.
LIVE — 3,184 viewers.
Comments were racing across the screen faster than she could follow.
Are you sitting in someone else’s seat?
Please move over for the older lady. Did she really say people her age shouldn’t travel?
I’m in row 19. We can hear you.
The woman’s eyes grew wide.
She frantically tapped across the screen.
“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no.”
Another notification popped up.
Your live video has been saved.
A small sound of panic escaped her. The college student across the aisle leaned forward.
“Ma’am, you’ve been live since we were at the gate.”
The woman’s cheeks flushed bright red.
Once the sign turned off, I headed toward Grandma. Nora arrived at the same moment.
“Let’s take a breath,” the flight attendant said. “Please end the broadcast.”
The woman’s trembling fingers pressed the button. “I didn’t know.”
“I believe you,” Nora replied. “But people heard what happened.”
The woman stared at the black screen, her face burning with shame.
She looked toward Grandma.
“You knew?”
“I saw the little red word,” Grandma said.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Grandma glanced at the armrest separating them.
“I tried.”
“When you told me to look down?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were complaining about the seat again.”
“I was trying to help you.”
