“Did I tell you that your dad just got a new grill? As if he is going to be out in 30-degree weather with a pack of steaks,” Mom scoffed.

I folded a new top from Saks 5th Ave and set it aside. “No you didn’t,” I mumbled, hardly paying attention as I sorted through the mounds of business attire I didn't even need since I worked from home.

“Olive, dear…I’m worried about you down there. When’s the last time you left the apartment?”

I looked at the shopping bags sprawled across the floor. Sephora, Urban Outfitters, and Nordstrom all stared back at me with judging eyes.

“I will have you know I was out all day yest—”

“Other than shopping.”

I quickly snapped my lips closed. She knew me too well. “Well…”

“Honey, you need to get back out there. Have you heard of this app called Tender? Taylor was telling me you should go on there. Some very nice men would be glad to go out with you.” I rolled my eyes and bit my lip, because of course my sister-in-law told my mom I should be on a dating app.

“First of all—it’s Tinder. Second of all—I don’t need a stupid dating app.”

Her turn signal blinked in the background, filling the silence before she answered. “And why is that?”

Before I could think, before I could filter my words or stop my mouth from moving, I blurted, “Because I have a boyfriend.”

I reached into the seatback compartment and grabbed the black eye mask, which was still wrapped. I fumbled with the plastic then placed the flimsy fabric over my head, surrounding myself with darkness in an attempt to drown out all other distractions.

You're on a sandy beach, drinking cosmos. There is no plane in sight, and you are certainly not about to see a sibling you haven’t spoken to in years. You are a waterfall. A calm, ever-flowing, beautiful waterfall.

It turned out that, contrary to what Perry Como says, there is a place better than home for the holidays—and it’s in West Palm Beach under a cabana with a blue frozen drink in my hand.

As my nerves slowly drifted away, there was a jolt in the seat next to me. So much for being a waterfall. A duffel bag hitting the hard seat on my right side shook me. Without lifting my mask, I slowly breathed in and out, not wanting to know who I would be stuck with as a seat partner. With my luck, it would be a large man who hadn’t showered in days or an obnoxious teenager who wanted to cry on my shoulder about her first heartbreak. Maybe even someone who would try to show me their sleight of hand magic for four hours.