25. Amie
twenty-five
Amie
T he terminal building in Detroit’s airport is in utter chaos. There are people everywhere, and even more noise. It’s so loud. So many people. I’m over stimulated and on edge just walking through to the exit. It’s never like this—not at Christmas, not during the summer holiday rush, not even when storms roll in and cancel hundreds of flights, leaving people stranded to sleep on blocks of hard plastic chairs. I glance up at the screen to see an unusual number of flight cancellations, and I put it down to weather, until—
“Did you hear?” someone says to me. “There’s been a crash. In Philly. It sounds bad.”
Fingers of ice lick up and down my spine, although my skin burns hot. Goosebumps rise on my arms, fine hairs standing to attention. The cacophonous noise fades to a shrill buzz in my ears and the world around me blurs, tilting just a little off-axis. Cam was supposed to fly out of Philadelphia today. My mouth is so dry I can barely unstick my tongue from my teeth to form words. I stop dead, and the entire group of flight and cabin crew grinds to a halt with me.
“Who—who was it? What happened?”
“It was Jurassic,” the captain says. He pulls me aside and speaks quietly. “It’s bad, Amie. Catastrophic. There’s a company-wide email sent while we were in the air. Our crews are going to be affected by this. They’ve got counselling services on standby.”
It doesn’t really matter what airline it was. Things like this… they shouldn’t happen. And when they do, they hurt all of us. We all do the same job, we share the same sky. We’re family. But hearing those three words— it was Jurassic —is my undoing. My stomach roils and I clap a hand over my mouth, abandoning my suitcase and rushing towards the nearest desk. I find a waste bin just in time, slamming my knees against the cold tile floor and throwing up my lunch.
I’m still on my knees, bent over the bin and coughing, when Captain Rick Flores and two of my crew members catch up with me a minute later. One crew member crouches beside me on the floor, rubbing gentle circles on my back, while Rick watches, confused. When my stomach finally settles enough, I speak.
“What flight was it?”
“Philly to San Fra—”
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
“What was the flight number?” I demand.
“I don’t know, Amie, I’m sorry,” Rick shrugs. I don’t know why the flight number is so important to me. I don’t know what flight Cam was supposed to fly today, just that he was flying home from Philadelphia. To San Francisco. My stomach muscles clench again and I stifle a groan, leaning over the bin again and dry heaving into it. I’ve attracted quite the audience, which Rick—mercifully—shoos away, before returning to eye me curiously.
“What’s going on, Amie?” His tone is quiet but no-nonsense; it’s his authoritative captain voice—the one I rarely hear directed at me. I shrink into myself. From beside me, my colleague Erin speaks up.
“Her kid’s dad flies for Jurassic. I guess he was in Philly today?”
I nod, desperate to control my breathing. In—one, two, three, four. Out, one, two, three, four—
“I’ll find out what I can.” Rick nods. “Are you good? Do you want me to call a medic?”
I shake my head. I don’t need a medic, I just need answers. I need Cam. I need to see him, to hear his voice, to know he’s safe. I need to know Maisy still has a daddy to call her for a bedtime story every night. I just need him.
We can’t lose him.
I can’t lose him. Flashes of every moment we’ve spent together play like a movie—those homemade ones shot on a jumpy, handheld camera. His hand on my lower back as we walked and talked in Santiago. His arm slung across the back of the sofa as he sat beside me in London. His mouth on me in Singapore when I demanded he fuck me like an animal.
I’d give anything to feel that kind of desperate euphoria right now. The idea that we might have had our one and only shot, that there might never be another chance for us—it paralyses me, and I can’t breathe. It’s all of my worst fears coming true. Amie Caine, abandoned by the men in her life. Left alone, all over again.
Unsteadily, I rise to my feet. I realise that Steve, the other crew member with us, is toting my luggage as well as his own, and I offer him a weak smile of thanks. He lifts his chin in response as Erin loops her arm around my waist, supporting me as we slowly make our way through the terminal and out to the bus, where the rest of the crew are waiting for us .
Erin and Rick help me load my bags and clamber onto the bus, and Steve digs around in his bag before wordlessly handing me a bottle of water and a roll of mints. He rests a hand on my shoulder for just a moment before striding to the back of the bus and settling in for the journey to the hotel.
I collapse into my seat and tuck myself into a ball, feet beneath me and shoulders hunched. I need to brush my teeth. I need to wash my face. I need to shower this whole nightmare off my skin. I need to speak to Cam. I need to hear his voice, I need him to tell me he’s safe, I need—I need him. I need for Maisy not to lose her daddy. Not now. Not after we’ve just found him again.
His phone doesn’t even ring when I call it.
Tears burn at my eyelids, tracking their way down my cheeks and making the leap from my jaw down to my hands as my trembling fingers tap out message after message, forcing myself to wait for a response before sending the next.
Amie
What’s going on
Do you know anything?
Call me
Please
CALL ME
Are you okay
Call me please
Please Cam, call me
I need to know you’re okay
Cam please call me immediately
For fuck’s sake Cam call me
Please be okay
But there is no response. No dots, no blue ticks. The messages are delivered, but they’re not read. There are over two hundred unread messages in my inbox, and when I tap the app icon, I see they’re mostly from my best friends. More than sixty of them mention me directly.
ROO
@Amie what’s going on?
@Amie ??????
Katy
Roo, she’s probs still flying
Lolo
omfg just seen the news @Amie do u know anything??
ROO
Is he okay?
@Amie Have you heard from him?
Katy
GALS. She’s working. She’s in the literal sky. She probably hasn’t even seen the news.
ROO
Fuck, I can’t handle this
Lolo
YOU cant handle it
what abt amie
what abt Maisy?
ROO
Oh god @Lolo don’t say that
Lolo
just need him to be okay pls lord i’ll do anything
ROO
I’ll get down on my knees
Katy
Jesus fucking Christ
Why am I friends with you two
When Amie lands I’m sure she’ll find out. I’m sure he’s probably fine.
Right?
@Amie ???
My fingers aren’t trembling anymore, they’re straight up shaking. I might throw up again. I can barely hold my phone, and my stomach churns uncomfortably. I lean forward and rest my head against the back of the seat in front of me.
Amie
I haven’t heard anything. He was flying PHL to SFO today. He’s not picking up.
ROO
fuck.