A pair of navy heels stop behind my feet. “You’ll need to sit down for taxiing and take off, miss.”
I turn to face the flight attendant. Her name tag readsCaroline, and her tone is polite and patient. “There’s tape on the wings.”
“It’s just for securing any minor repairs.”
I drag my palms down my cheeks, voice a quiet squeak. “Minor repairs?”
“Nervous flyer? We’ll get you a drink as soon as we’re airborne.”
A pint of vodka might do it.
I lower into the seat beside Jack and opposite Belladonna, the four of us around the table. It feels like we sit there forever, the plane moving forward at a snail’s pace.
Strange noises sound below us, beside us, behind us. Vincenzo just repeats the wordnormalover and over after every noise.
And then I’m thrust back in my seat, a deafening roar in my ears. I scramble to cover them, turn the music up to full volume,but I can still hear it. My eyes fly open in alarm, landing on the glacier blue of Belladonna’s.
We’re hurtling down the runway. Too fast, too loud, too out of control.
She’s calm. Composed.Bored, even.
The plane speeds up even more, my head tipping back against the seat. I screw my eyes shut, squeezing two hot tears out. They scorch a path down my cheeks, fists curled tight.
I’m silent and still, breath trapped in my lungs, every muscle bunched tight.
This is awful. Worse than I ever imagined. I cannot believe Alex did this almost weekly at the end of last year.Alex. I’m doing this for Alex.I hope he’s okay. I hope his mother is okay.
A cold hand encircles my own. Belladonna’s fingers thread through mine. A warm hand settles on my other, and I dare to crack an eyelid. Jack holds my left hand, Belladonna leans forward, clutching my right. Her other hand sits in Vincenzo’s on top of the table. We’re connected in some unlikely circle, the three of them calm and composed, me fighting for air.
It almost makes me break down, but I’m distracted by a sickening sinking feeling, like we’re plummeting.
This is it.
Thirteen, twelve, ten.
I grip Belladonna and Jack’s hands so hard I worry I might break their fingers.
Nine, eight, seven.
Tears trickle over my jawline, clammy and uncomfortable on my neck. My stomach sinks.Everythingfeels like it sinks.
Six, five, four.
My name, cried out in my father’s voice, reverberates in my ears.
Three, two, one.
The crash doesn’t come. I open my eyes, finding Belladonna’s again. This time, theyarekind. Proud, even. “That was brave,” she mouths, picking up her coffee.
I don’t reply,can’treply, grinding my teeth to dust when the plane banks left.
And then a single, ominousdingfills the cabin.
The flight attendant appears with four glasses and a bottle of sparkling wine, giving me a reassuring smile and a little squeeze on the shoulder.
This so twisted. We’re going to fall out of the sky any second now, and she’s popping the cork out of a bottle of wine.
But I guess I’d rather die drunk than sober, so I gratefully accept the glass when she offers me it.
