“Turn here, turn here!” Steph exclaimed as she twisted in her seat, pointing at the road.
He slammed on the brakes, overshooting and missing the road. The car behind them laid on its horn.
“Sorry,” Lev waved his hand.
“Oops, we missed it,” she said, smiling, her hand cupped mouth.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” he said. “I thought you said you knew where this place was?”
She burst out laughing. “I do when I’m driving.”
“A little more notice, please,” Lev said, spinning the car around in someone’s driveway. He lifted his arm. “Do I have pit stains?”
“Not really,” Steph said, looking at her phone.
“You didn’t even look. Not really? So yes, I have pit stains, great.”
“I am looking,” she said, not looking up from her phone, trying not to laugh.
“You know how nervous I get around your parents. You’re not helping,” he said.
She laughed her signature laugh, snorts and all.
“This isn’t funny. Your parents hate me,” he said. The left directional clicked as he waited for traffic.
“They don’t hate you; I think the term they used was dislike,” she said.
“Are you kidding? You told me last week that they hate me,” he said as he punched the gas to cross in front of oncoming traffic setting off more car horns.
“My father hates you. My mother doesn’t,” she said, never taking her eyes from her phone.
The wheels crackled on the tree-lined country road over a slight hill the mansion loomed ahead. He followed the circular driveway, stopping under the portico. An eager young man jumped off his stool to valet park the car and rushed to open Levi’s door. Another valet appeared out of nowhere, opening Steph’s door. They met at the bottom of the steps that led to the entrance.
“Why did they pick this place again?” he asked.
“They are members of the golf club, and they’ve always wanted me to get married here,” she said.
“Of course, they’re members of the million-dollar golf club,” Lev said.
Steph’s phone rang. “Oh no. Hi, this is Flight Attendant Pratt.”
“Are you kidding me,” Lev muttered, his head falling forward.
“JFK, I got it,” Steph said, hanging up. “Brazil.”
“You have to go to Brazil?” Lev said. “What do we do now?”
“Well, we’re already here and must choose the cake. The baker is meeting us at one p.m. That was the only time she had open,” Steph said. “But I have to leave now if I want to JFK on time. You know how the Belt Parkway is on a Sunday.”
“You’re going to leave me here to have a cake tasting not only without you but with your parents? Alone?” he said.
“You know how this works. Being on call sucks,” Steph said.
“Who came up with this reserve system? It’s like being held hostage.” Lev complained.
“Let’s go in. I’ll tell my parents that Crew Schedule gave me a trip. They’ll give you a ride home after,” Steph said.
He grabbed her hand, dropping to his knees, “Do you have to go? Seriously, I can’t do this.”
“Get up! I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you. It might be a great chance for you to get to know them better,” she said, pulling him up.
Lev stood still, slumping.
“Look.” Steph paused. “My father doesn’t hate you. He hates his daughter’s fiancé. No matter who it was, it would have gotten the same reaction. Don’t take it personally.”
Steph wrapped her arm around his arm, standing on her tiptoes. She kissed him on the cheek and then took the first step.
“Okay,” Lev said with a deep sigh.
Before he took the first stair, he stopped her, turning her around and looking into her eyes from below.
“You are my everything. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. If I had to do it all again, all the hardships, the heartbreaks, the near-death experiences, the drunk blackouts, the losing my job, Mexico, Iraq, all of it, I would go through it all over again so that I could meet and fall in love with you.”
She sucked in her lips, “awe.”
They kissed.
He picked her up and twirled her around.
- - - - - - - -
The sensation of the book falling to the floor woke Stephanie Pratt from the heaviness of the unintentional nap. It was one a.m.; she still had another hour before her rest break. She picked the book up off the floor and tossed it onto the first-class galley counter. A tiny squeak escaped her as she stretched her arms over her head until her fingertips grazed the ceiling. A shiver vibrated through her. She pulled her sweater tight around her. The flight attendant's uniform sweaters were useless.
She squinted into the first-class cabin, panning the dark to see how her passengers were doing. Everyone was asleep.
She peered further back into the opaque cavern of coach punctuated by a muted light behind the back galley curtain. Keep moving or sleep - your choice. She decided to venture into the cave to stay awake.
She stepped on something that squealed beneath her foot as she passed through first class. She drew in a breath, frozen in fear. Please don't wake up. Please don’t squeak. Thankfully, as she raised her foot, the toy was silent. On the floor, a stuffed rabbit, the little girl in seat 3D had brought onto the plane, smiled up at her. She picked it up and placed it beside the girl's sweet little face. Hopefully, one day, Levi and I will have some of our own. Then my parents would have no choice. They would have to love Levi or like him - liking would be good.
Her wedding to the man of her dreams was just a few months away. Although on hiatus, he happened to be a famous news correspondent. Despite her parents' criticism of his past and their concern for their age difference, she knew he would be an excellent husband and father. He had remained sober for the past four months, he was working again, and he treated her like gold. Nobody made her laugh as much as he did. Her parents would come around.
Silently, she moved into the coach cabin. Her eyes adjusted, and she saw the passengers as deep shadows. Turbulence made her grab a seat back to steady herself. The passengers all move in unison like zombies in a horror film.
At the back of the plane, the three crew members on break were sleeping in their resting seats. Quietly, she peaked into the galley. The flight attendant, who was also supposed to be awake, was sitting on the jump seat with her eyes closed. The woman's chin rested on her chest, rhythmically moving up and down, her knitting needles slowly slipping from her hands. Stephanie left her asleep and ducked into the adjacent restroom.
She looked in the mirror. I look like a train wreck. Grabbing a tissue, she wiped smeared black eyeliner from under her eyes. Next, she reapplied her lipstick, puckering up and kissing at her reflection, then took a selfie to send to her fiancé. She stood sideways in the mirror and pushed her belly out as far as it could go. I'm going to need to lose a few before the wedding. She sucked in, then out, gave herself a wink, and pointed at herself.
Lowering the toilet lid, she sat down to reread Lev's text.
So, it's official: your parents hate me. After you left, not only did the ship sail, but it sank. I don't want to upset you, but it was terrible. I’m not going to lie. Getting your parents to like me is going to be an uphill battle. I'll give you the details later. I meant what I said today. You're worth it. You are my new drug of choice. By the way, we never got around to picking a wedding cake, but we all agreed that cheesecake would probably melt and turn into a massive pile of cream cheese. Maybe we can do the top-tier cheesecake. Call me when you get there. I love you XXOO, Lev.
The lights went out.
The only light was from her phone. Out of nowhere, she became light-headed and dizzy. She grabbed the assist handle on the wall. Even though it was dark, tunnel vision started to steel her consciousness. She heard the oxygen mask fall from the compartment over the sink. That and the sudden pain could only mean one thing.
A decompression!
She reached for the oxygen mask—she only had seconds to find it in the darkness. Where was it? She was grabbing frantically into the space where the cup should be. Finally, the dangling mask touched her hand but swung away. She dropped her phone using two hands. She brought the oxygen mask to her face—deep breaths - stay calm. Where’s my phone? She moved her foot around the floor until she felt it, then dove down to get it, hitting her head on the counter. She didn’t feel it. Adrenalin coursed through her veins. Her heart pounded so loudly she thought she could hear it.
Stephanie wasn't the most astute flight attendant. There were so many things to remember. But the information about decompressions she learned in training now flooded her brain with information. The compartment oxygen held enough air for fifteen minutes. That would be enough time for the pilot to dive down to ten thousand feet, where you can breathe without needing oxygen. The flight attendants were to 'don' their oxygen masks and make an announcement instructing the passengers to fasten their seatbelts and to remain on oxygen until the pilots said it was safe.
Stephanie sat back on the toilet and braced, expecting something to happen.
Minutes went by. She didn’t know how many, but nothing happened. No steep dive.
What is going on? Why is this taking so long? Why aren't the pilots landing? Oh my God, the pilots must be unconscious. Where are the other flight attendants?
Oh my God, they must be unconscious!
She opened the door and leaned out of the bathroom, shining her phone into the cabin, expecting to see passengers with their masks on or at least dangling. There were none. Oh my God, okay, okay, don't panic. Oh my god. She shook her hand, something she would do when she got nervous. Okay, okay, don't panic.
The passengers and crew had been without oxygen for longer than a few minutes. The amount of time an oxygen-deprived brain can live is six minutes. Had it been six minutes? Brain-dead. They could all be brain-dead. I need to do something. Would the oxygen in the bathroom run out soon? She wasn't sure, adding to her panic.
She shined her light on the wall behind the last row of coach where the bracketed, longer-lasting oxygen bottles were a little over a foot away. She stretched her fingers toward the wall, stretching the plastic tubing attached to the restroom ceiling as far as it would go. The green tank of oxygen was less than an inch from her fingers. It was no use. Too far, come on!
She had to take off her mask to get to the tank.
She took a deep breath and held it as she removed her mask. She reached one of the spare tanks, fumbling with the bracket until it released, allowing her to pull the oxygen into the bathroom. She replaced the restroom mask with the one from the large tank. She placed the strap around her shoulder and neck like a purse. She bought herself at least twenty more minutes of air. It was bulky and clumsy, but at least she could move more freely.
The flight attendants were right next to the bathroom. She shined her light and then shook the one closest to her. "Are you okay?" she shouted.
No response. Instead, the flight attendant's head loosely rolled to the side. His lips were blue.
I can’t believe this is happening. Stephanie shook her hand again. Tears were streaming down her face. She breathed in mucus from her nose, wiping the sweat on her forehead with the back of her hand.
No. There’s no way that they are all dead.
All the oxygen compartments were open but empty, no yellow masks! Where are the masks? How could there not be any? She needed to give the flight attendant oxygen, but there was only her own. She took another deep breath, took off her mask, and held it to the unconscious flight attendant's mouth until she ran out of breath and took it back to her face.
"Oh my God! They're all dead!" she screamed aloud.
She was sobbing and hyperventilating. Stay calm! She ripped the galley curtain. The other flight attendant lay unconscious on the floor. Stephanie turned the woman on her back and shook her. She took a deep breath of oxygen, removed her mask, gave the flight attendant two full resuscitation breaths, and then compressed her chest. A liquid dripped out of the lady's mouth. Nothing changed; she was dead.
"Oh my God, oh my God," Stephanie sobbed. The large oxygen tank clanged on the floor as she pushed herself away from the woman, backing up until she reached the aircraft door.
She winced in pain when her ears began popping, indicating the cabin was being re-pressurized, and the airplane started to descend. That could only mean one thing—the pilots were still alive. Thank God!
She pulled herself from the floor and ran toward the front of the plane. Turbulence and the awkwardness of the oxygen tank threw her into an armrest. Struggling to stay upright, something squishy brought her down, coming face to face with the open eyes of a dead woman.
Stephanie screamed. She was no longer worried about injuring the passengers. She had to use their bodies to help herself go forward.
The pilots will know what to do. Maybe we can still save them. Sobbing, out of breath, she finally reached the cockpit, the heavy oxygen tank still around her neck. The mask had slid down to her throat.
She picked up the interphone, hitting the captain call button. Nothing, dead silence. She started pounding on the door.
"Captain, are you okay? Hello?"
Nothing. Pounding again. "They're all dead," she screamed into the phone through hysterical sobs. She kept pressing the call button. Still no answer.
She peered into the peephole. Did she see movement? "I can see you! Are you okay?" she shouted. She kept pounding on the door.
She reeled backward as the door finally whipped open. Her relief to see someone alive didn't last long. The captain didn't look right—his face frozen, his eyes darker than night. She backed up some more. "They're all dead," she sobbed. "They're all dead. We have to do something!"
No answer. No emotion.
"Captain? Did you hear me?"
The captain was stone-cold silent as he stared back at her. Why isn't he doing anything?
Then she saw the ax he was hiding behind his leg. For a split second, they made eye contact, but then his jaw tightened, and he removed his eyes from hers, raising the ax. Instinctively, she turned to run, but too late.
She felt a freezing sensation spread from the back to the front of her head, followed by a high-pitched ringing in her ears. She knew she was going down.
Stephanie was now at eye to eye with the soft stuffed bunny before everything went silent, then numb, and eventually black.
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