Chapter 17
17
On my wellness break the next day, I checked my phone and saw Anthony had forwarded a flight confirmation email. Karina and I would depart for Salt Lake City at 10:35 a.m. Saturday. We’d enjoy a leisurely lunch at SLC, then fly back to SFO three hours later. I offered to reimburse him for my ticket, but Anthony replied: Naw. My treat . Guilt cycled through me as I bobbed gently on the yoga ball. His gratitude, and Karina’s, was misplaced. I was getting more from the arrangement than they knew, though I planned to refrain from my usual in-flight activities when Karina and I were together. I would fly in a strictly professional capacity, ignoring any romantic overtures from the planes, with a focus on delivering her safely back to SFO.
At lunch, Karina asked if she could spend the night in my cube, so we could wake up and set off together for the airport. She said it would be fun, like a sleepover, “like when we were kids,” and I agreed it sounded fun, without admitting I’d enjoyed few such experiences in my youth. She’d mentioned Anthony would be out late, selling T-shirts at a show in Oakland. Though she proposed the sleepover in a lighthearted manner, I knew she was afraid to spend the night alone, obsessing over everything that could go wrong with our flight. When we returned to our terminals, I saw she’d brought a backpack, presumably filled with items she’d need for an overnight stay. She’d clearly assumed I would say yes to the sleepover, and I was pleased by how comfortable we’d grown with each other, to the point where Karina saw my home as an extension of her own.
After work we took the bus to my neighborhood, as Anthony was using the Honda to transport shirts to the concert. Karina proposed we get our nails done, wanting a fresh look to celebrate her return to flying. We went to a salon a few blocks down Taraval and requested matching hot-pink gel manicures. As we sat in the spa chairs, I recounted my phone conversation with Dave the night before, concluding with my threat to tell Christa about our affair.
“Good,” Karina said, holding her hand steady while the nail tech chipped off her old gel polish. “I hope you made him sweat.”
“I wouldn’t go through with it,” I said. I winced as my nail tech pushed back my overgrown cuticles. I hadn’t gotten a professional manicure in twelve years, not since my mom and I had our nails done prior to my flight attendant interview.
“Well, hopefully it scares him enough that he won’t try that shit with anyone else,” Karina said.
This seemed unlikely, though I’d been surprised by Dave’s actions before.
Back in my cube, Karina eyed me in the overhead light and offered to trim the bleached ends from my hair. I conceded it was time, as my grown-out dye job was starting to look ridiculous. I sat on the closed toilet while Karina gave me a haircut using the scissors with which I’d cut out images for my vision board. We then took turns showering. Karina emerged from the bathroom wearing a silk pajama set. She’d brought her own pillow, too, cloaked in a silk pillowcase, which I was glad for, as it meant I wouldn’t have to rest my head on a balled-up jacket again.
We lay beside each other in the glow of the SAD lamp. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?” I asked.
Karina gazed up at my flight map. “There’s something I haven’t told you,” she said, “because I know it’ll sound crazy.”
I was intrigued. “Anything you say will remain in the cube.”
“I’ve done some bad things in the past,” she said. “Sometimes I think a plane crash is how God will punish me, since it’s my greatest fear.”
She’d said cryptic things before about deserving punishment, but I hadn’t realized her guilt was directly connected to her fear of flying. “What kinds of things have you done?” I dared to ask.
“So much shit. I used to steal from my mom. I cheated on every boyfriend I had before Anthony. I’m vain, and selfish, and a gossip.”
“Everyone does stuff like that.”
She paused. “Worse things, too,” she said softly. “Things I don’t even want to talk about.”
I was curious but feared that if I probed too forcefully, Karina might respond by probing me. I wasn’t prepared to reveal my own secrets, especially the night before we were set to fly. “Whatever you did, it doesn’t mean you’re going to be in a plane crash,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I believed this. “The two things aren’t related.”
“Yeah, but what if they are?” Karina said, rolling over to face me, her minty breath warm on my cheek. “I’ve had this nightmare, ever since I was a kid, that I was on a plane that was going down. I always wake up right before we hit the ground.”
“I’ve had that dream, too,” I said. I didn’t add that for me, the dream had an erotic component. I always woke up slick with arousal.
“What do you think it means?”
I had my own theories, ones it would be unwise to share with her. “I’m sure it’s a common dream,” I said. “Our minds fixate on things that scare us.”
“I suppose.” She didn’t sound convinced, and indeed, neither was I.
Karina lapsed into silence, her legs twitching as she fell asleep. She threw an arm across my torso, as she’d done the last time she slept over. I lay awake, haunted by what she had told me. Eventually, I extricated myself from her arm and ventured into the outer garage, where I sat among the Chens’ dusty boxes. On my phone, I looked up the first plane we’d fly on tomorrow. His name was N549UW, an A319 I’d never been with before, according to my flight notes. He was currently flying from SLC to Austin, where he’d spend the night, then fly to SFO in the morning. I grew aroused, in spite of myself, as I watched the icon representing N549UW creep southeast on my flight-tracking app. Karina feared it was her fate to die in a plane crash, and selfishly, this made the prospect of flying with her more enticing. Perhaps our fates were linked. Perhaps, all my life, I’d been waiting for this final piece to click into place.
I paced the garage until sunrise, debating whether I should tell Karina the truth. I went out to buy coffee and muffins and brought our breakfast back to the cube, where she was stirring in bed. I turned on the SAD lamp, flooding the cube with false sunlight.
“Today’s the big day,” I said, affecting optimism, though my conscience weighed heavy upon me.
“Yep,” she said, sitting up and accepting one of the cups of coffee.
I asked how she’d slept, vowing that if she said she’d had the dream again, I would call off our flight. But Karina reported that she’d slept soundly, seeming unaware of my absence from the bed. “It was nice not to fight with Anthony for the covers,” she said.
Karina dressed herself in clothes from her backpack: jeans and a pink hooded sweatshirt with a design on the front of two dogs riding skateboards. She explained that she wanted to wear one of Anthony’s designs for good luck. We emerged from the garage to find the Honda idling at the corner. Anthony was punctual for once.
“Hey, girls,” he said as we piled in. “Did you have a nice sleepover?”
“Linda’s room is so nice,” Karina said. “It’s like a sensory deprivation tank.”
On the drive, Karina and Anthony chatted about the show he’d gone to, while I brooded in the back seat. There was still time to call off our flight. Short of disaster, I would consider any minor incident, any brief stint of turbulence, to be my fault, the result of years of stewing on my destiny. I’d resolved not to touch myself on board the planes, but I feared I’d be unable to conceal my arousal in the event of turbulence. I would humiliate myself, as I’d done during my flight attendant training. My behavior would disturb Karina, further entrenching her fear and ruining our friendship. Still, I could think of no reasonable excuse not to fly at this late juncture. To refuse to fly with her now, after so much buildup, would constitute another form of betrayal.
We arrived at the departures level of Terminal 3. Anthony stepped out of the car, saying he’d return in the evening to pick us up. He kissed Karina on the lips, then brought me in for a hug.
“Thanks again for doing this, Lindy,” he said, his mouth close to my ear. “You’re a good friend.”
I mumbled that it was no problem, feeling like a criminal. I was aware my guilt was hypocritical, as I’d long been in the habit of placing all manner of strangers, as well as Dave, in mortal peril by flying with them. I’d reasoned that, when the time came, it would be all of our fates to die together. But it was different with Karina, whom I’d persuaded to fly against her better judgment, insisting there was nothing to fear.
Karina and I proceeded into the terminal and printed our boarding passes at a kiosk. As we waited in the security line, I asked her, one more time, if she was sure she was ready. I hoped she’d express some lingering doubt, which would provide me an opening to postpone our flight.
But Karina smiled and said she was. “Your coaching really helped. I mean, obviously getting on the plane will be the real test, but I’m feeling okay about it. I’m excited, actually.”
At every juncture, I prayed an external force would intervene, stopping us from boarding the plane. But for once, the process was maddeningly smooth. The TSA agent inspected our IDs and waved us on to the X-ray queue. Karina grumbled as she slipped off her sneakers.
“I forgot about the shoe thing,” she said.
We waited for the machine to ingest our belongings—my backpack containing my wallet, phone, chunk of 737, empty water bottle; Karina’s Louis Vuitton tote containing, I assumed, her cosmetic items, tissues, perhaps some high-protein snacks, among untold additional treasures. I went into the body scanner first, holding my arms above my head like a whimsical stick figure. Soon, we’d both emerged from the other side of the scanner and were disgorged into the secure sector.
“I can’t believe I had to step on that filthy floor with only my socks on,” Karina said, as we pushed deeper into the Fgates.
“I’m sure they mop it a lot.”
“I’ll have to burn these socks when I get home.” She said it cheerfully, though.
As we neared our gate, my dread deepened. I avoided eye contact with N549UW through the window, fearful of witnessing a spark of recognition in his windscreen. I felt I was leading Karina to the gallows. No amount of coaching could persuade her to embrace a crash, if fate willed it. I’d spent the week telling her such an event was basically impossible, while the most essential fact of my being was my belief that one day, it would happen to me. As we sat in the gate area, Karina noticed my distraction and asked if I was okay.
“I’m fine,” I said. “It’s almost time!” I tried to embody the persona of a flight coach, which I envisioned as a cross between a camp counselor and an AA sponsor.
On the jet bridge, I told myself the vision boards were probably nonsense, just as Dave had said. Planes were not sentient beings, but machines devoid of agency, emotions, and sexuality. Anyone would have told me this, had I dared to discuss my beliefs with them. But in my heart, I knew planes had souls, just as people did, and as I stepped across N549UW’s threshold, an electric sensation coursed through my body. I felt the plane greet me, as if he’d known I was coming. It was the same feeling I’d had on board N92823, all those years ago. This plane wanted to marry me today. All he needed was a nudge, and that nudge was Karina.
We found our seats, 23D and E. Karina took the aisle, as we’d discussed in advance. The boarding process continued, passengers making their way to their seats and stowing their bags overhead. I willed myself to allow the moment to pass, for the safety instruction to commence and the plane to push back from the gate, at which point no further action would be possible. But then Karina laid her hand on mine.
“It’s going to be okay, right?” she said. I looked into her soft brown eyes and was flooded with love for the best friend I’d ever had.
“I should have told you before,” I whispered. “Last night, when you said you’ve always thought it was your fate to die in a plane crash? I’ve always known it was my fate, too. And I think it will happen today.”
She pulled her hand away. “What are you talking about?”
“This plane wants to marry me. I felt it the moment we boarded.” As I said this, N549UW’s hum intensified, as if confirming what I’d said.
“Linda. You’re scaring me.” She looked up the aisle. The procession of passengers had thinned, the boarding process almost complete.
“In another minute, they’ll close the door, and it will be too late,” I said. “If you want to live, you should go now, before it’s too late.”
She turned back to me with a frantic look. “I thought you said flying was safe.”
“In most circumstances, it is. But I believe our fates are somehow interwoven.” For a moment, I savored the possibility that she’d consent to dying on behalf of my eternal union with N549UW. “I can’t imagine a better way to be married than on this flight with you,” I said, my eyes tearing up. “You asked me to be your bridesmaid. Now I’m asking you to be mine.” It felt so freeing, to finally tell the truth.
“You’re fucked up, Linda,” Karina said. She was already in the aisle, pushing her way to the front of the plane. She said something to the flight attendant, who nodded and guided her out the door. I feared she’d reported me—that she’d heard me say something suggesting I was a risk to the plane—but she must not have, as no one came to speak with me. Even after I’d betrayed her, Karina had remained loyal.
—
The charge I’d felt upon boarding N549UW vanished the moment Karina stepped off the plane. My body flushed with the usual heat as we raced down the runway, but for once, I wasn’t in the mood. I knew I’d done the right thing, though I had taken too long to do it. I’d saved Karina’s life, but in the process, I’d destroyed our friendship, and probably scared her off flying for good. I was overcome with self-loathing and took no pleasure from the flight. When we landed, I hurried off N549UW. In the terminal, I toggled my phone off airplane mode and found no message from Karina, or anyone else.
Numbly, I located the gate for my return flight to SFO and lowered myself into a chair. The magical filter that had always overlaid airport terminals was stripped away, revealing my surroundings as ugly. The people around me were crude, coughing and blowing their noses and quarreling with each other. I snuck glances at their crotches, compressed into jeans or leggings, and imagined unwrapping them, the stink of their genitals rising into the confined air of the terminal. I despised their fleshy bodies, and my own. How superior planes were, sleek and elegant, strong yet supple, graceful in the sky. Planes emitted no objectionable odors, aside from gas fumes, which I huffed with pleasure. I’d been a fool to think a plane would ever want me.
I resolved to be good. If I believed flying with Karina brought danger to her, the same threat applied to anyone who flew on the same plane as me. I did not want to bring harm to others. I would live out my remaining days without flying. I’d live a celibate life, and maybe, one day, my friend would forgive me.