Two hours into the flight, Fayez opened his eyes.

"Hey, what did I miss?"

Lila pulled out her left AirPod, in her ear just for show. "Apart from the symphony from that baby to your left, not much." She subtly pointed to the exhausted mother, the same woman who'd sat across from her at the airport, echoing endearments in Spanish to her pacified child. "Honestly, how did you sleep through the screaming?"

"This plane ride is the most relaxation I've gotten in twenty-three years," he said, fighting a yawn. Yanking out a neck pillow from the backpack at his feet, he tilted his head up and smiled. "Miracle how hitting rock bottom makes flying coach at one a.m. feel like a room at the Four Seasons."

Lila held back a snort, wondering why her usually slumberous self was wide-eyed and bubbling with anxiety, if she, too, was at a low point. Maybe that venti cold brew she'd chugged in her Uber to LAX had been a terrible idea.

He pulled out another pillow from his backpack, still wrapped in cellophane. "Need one?"

She blinked, wondering what else was hiding in that small bag. It reminded her of Hamilton's bottomless box from her favorite child show, Maggie and the Ferocious Beast. "I'm good, thank you. Don't think I'll be doing much sleeping, actually."

"Another for me, I guess." With that, he unwrapped the pillow and wedged it between his neck and shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut again.

What a weirdo, she thought. Shaking her head to herself, she redirected her interest to her dark window, where any semblance of a view obscured by the wing. She leaned forward and squinted, swearing she saw something flapping in the air.

"Hey, do you see that?" she whispered to Fayez, sliding her eyes to the left. To her misfortune, he'd zonked out again, now halfway bent into the aisle. "Never mind, then."

She distracted herself with a playlist of her dad's favorite seventies hits. Although the tracks reminded her of morning car rides in high school, the dissonant background noise didn't complement her already swirling mind. Ten minutes into her supposed bout of relaxation, she bent over on her knees, her fingers buried into her smooth strands of hair as she heaved a few breaths.

"Are you alright?"

She whipped her head to the left, straightening up in her spot. "Y-yeah, I'm good." Watching his deep-brown eyes soften with sympathy, she wrinkled her brow. "So, the wailing baby was a non-issue, but me breathing a little harder than normal was what got you?"

"Empathy is a sixth sense." He glanced over her head, trailing his eyes over the window. "Huh, looks like that wing's gonna fall apart any second now."

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We regret to inform you that Flight 1310 with service to Boston will be diverting to Denver due to unforeseen mechanical difficulties. We would like to ask everyone to remain calm and—"

"No," Lila breathed over the buzz of bewildered passengers. "No, no, no. God, this can't be happening now."

"Hey, hey," Fayez soothed, placing a hand on her armrest. He looked like he wanted to move it farther but restrained himself, remembering their newfound acquaintance. "I'm sure we're gonna be fine. And even if we're not, I've always wanted to be part of a class-action lawsuit. Something's gotta pay off this med school debt."

Her eyes turned to saucers, unsure how his brain worked.

This is the price you pay for running away, Lila. Maybe you'll be the first to die, anyway.

"You're a medical student, right?" He nodded. "What do you know about kidney donation?"

"You're thinking about post-mortem organ donation already?" At her narrowing stare, he held up a hand. "I mean, that's not exactly where my brain went when the man said 'mechanical difficulties,' but I can respect it."

She fought an amused smile, loving and hating his stupid sense of humor. "Channel your inner doctor and don't judge, okay? I just want to understand the science of it, and Google hasn't been helping."

He nodded, leaning over the middle seat so she could hear him better. "Alright, if you're thinking of donating to a particular person, a series of blood tests will let your physician know if you're a so-called match. The first, for blood type, ensures that yours is compatible with whoever will receive the kidney. The run-down is pretty simple. O is the universal donor, AB the universal recipient. A can donate to A and AB but can only receive from A and O, while B can donate to B and AB but only receive from B and O."

She repeated what he'd said in her head, trying desperately to remember her family member's blood types. "So, is that it? I figured it would be more complicated than that."

"It is," he said, nodding. "But the explanations behind crossmatch tests and HLA typing might bore you to death before this plane crashes. Essentially, the goal of all these tests is to ensure the best chance of a patient's survival."

Lila noticed the way his eyes flickered somewhere over her head. Maybe he had personal feelings about the subject, making her feel bad for asking so bluntly.

He looked back at her, the corners of his eyes creasing with emotion. "This isn't just a fun trip home, it?"

"No," she said, "it's not."

"For me neither," he murmured and fell back asleep.