I frowned.
“Tell her what?”
“Who you are.”
I turned toward her.
Ava glanced toward the galley.
“Mom says don’t let her know yet.”
My heartbeat changed slightly.
“You called your mother?”
“I texted.”
“Ava.”
“I sent her the video.”
I looked down.
Her phone sat low against her leg, camera lens angled toward the aisle.
“You recorded that?”
Ava nodded.
“I started when she grabbed the bag.”
I should have told her to stop immediately.
Under normal circumstances, I probably would have.
I believed children should not be placed in the middle of adult conflicts.
But Ava had not shouted.
She had not provoked Lauren.
She had simply preserved what happened.
“What did your mother say?”
Ava unlocked the screen just enough for me to see.
MOM: STAY SEATED. DO NOT DEPLANE WITHOUT ME.
A second message appeared.
MOM: I AM COMING TO THE AIRCRAFT.
I closed my eyes briefly.
My daughter Catherine was not a person who used capital letters casually.
I looked at Ava.
“How did you know to call her?”
“You looked scared.”
“I wasn’t scared.”
Ava gave me the exact expression children use when adults are being ridiculous.
“You were.”
I almost smiled.
Perhaps she was right.
Not afraid of Lauren.
Afraid of what could happen if the delay continued long enough that my meal schedule was disrupted.
I had learned over the years not to dramatize my health.
I carried medication.
I planned meals.
I knew my limits.
It was manageable when people allowed me to manage it.
Lauren had taken away that control.
Ava whispered:
“Mom says she’s almost here.”
That was when Lauren noticed the phone.
She stopped in the aisle.
Her attention fixed on Ava’s hand.
“What are you doing?”
Ava looked at me.
I answered.
“She’s using her phone.”
Lauren stepped closer.
“Were you recording me?”
Ava said nothing.
Lauren looked directly at her.
“You are not permitted to record working crew members.”
I asked:
“Can you show me that policy?”
Lauren’s face hardened.
“This is an aircraft.”
“I’m aware.”
“I’m giving you an instruction.”
“I’m asking what written rule you’re relying on.”
Several passengers were openly watching now.
Lauren did not like that.
She lowered her voice again.
“Delete the video.”
Ava’s fingers tightened around the phone.
I put my hand over hers.
“No.”
Lauren stared at me.
“Excuse me?”
“She will not delete anything.”
“Ma’am, refusing crew instructions can become a serious issue.”
“So can taking a passenger’s property and throwing it into the trash without cause.”
Lauren’s expression changed.
For the first time, she looked uncertain.
Only briefly.
Then authority returned.
“If you continue to be uncooperative, I can have both of you removed before departure.”
Ava’s phone buzzed.
She glanced down.
MOM: STAY SEATED. DO NOT DEPLANE WITHOUT ME.
Lauren saw the light from the screen.
She reached toward Ava.
I moved my arm between them.
It was the first time my voice changed.
“You will not touch my granddaughter’s phone.”
Lauren stepped back.
There was enough steel in my tone now that even she heard it.
For a second, we simply looked at one another.
Then Lauren smiled.
It was the smile of someone who had decided escalation would prove her right.
“Fine.”
She straightened.
“We’ll let the captain deal with you.”
She turned toward the cockpit.
Ava whispered:
“She has no idea.”
I looked at her.
“No.”