Enter the Cloud Queen
People say to run away from him. They say it would be best to run as far as I can-don’t even stop to take a breath. They say to start completely over and to never look back.
Others tell me to change my last name and to be more patient. They tell me to look forward to the fights and growing old and bitter. Because for some reason unknown to them, for the sake of some higher purpose they can’t quite understand, it’s worth it.
“Thank you for boarding American Airlines…”
But the joke's on them. Let them live out their shitty advice. I don’t run; I fly. I don’t change my name, and I don’t fight with grace.
“Please keep your seats and trays in their upright position while we prepare for takeoff…”
Fifteen years ago:
My spine shook as I held in my screams. Mascara smears on my face. He stood in front of me like a drill sergeant shouting into my ears. I focused on the rhythm of the way he balled up his fists and slammed them against my bedroom wall. One fist punched a hole through my cloud mural. Big puffy and friendly with a comforting contrast of white against robin’s egg blue. “We aren’t in the fucking clouds anymore!” His fist flew up. My body began to shake. She watched in the doorway with satisfaction as his hands ripped through my hair. For a moment, I gave up. I thought I couldn’t breathe.
“Oxygen and air pressure are always being monitored. In the event of a decompression, an oxygen mask will appear in front of you. To start the flow of oxygen pull the mask toward you..”
I always end up with a window seat and I never pull the shade over the scenery. I’m still here in the clouds; I never left.
These men are cowards. They don’t stop to think that clouds aren’t always flimsy. They can only respect the things that intimidate them. Can you see why there’s such excitement over a thunderstorm or a tornado warning? That rush of fear? Pathetic.
My condo at sea level is in a tower. I don’t need the mural anymore. My clouds are always different. I pull my curtains back and stand naked and proud in front of my window. I fucking dare you to look at my body.
Right now, I’m up a mile high looking at my clouds and staring down at the Rocky Mountains. My gaze is unwavering as always.
My eyelashes are coated in mascara. Spiders against ivory skin. Beautiful, resilient and vicious.