Chapter 13 The Private Plane #2
Elise pulled out a drawer of snacks: chocolate, almonds, dried mango, crackers, tiny jars of jam.
Marianne said, “We can make something for you if you’d like. A sandwich? Ice cream? Some soup?”
Natalie shook her head. “No, this is fine.”
She chose chocolate and dried mango.
Then she returned to the main room where Aaron slept. She munched on the snacks and played with her phone.
She saw an old message from Tessa and her mood soured.
What a bitch, she thought angrily. Why did they have to act that way?
This was what Tessa and the others didn’t understand.
This.
Not the money. Not the luxury. Not the designer clothes. Not the sex.
It was this: Aaron was a man who could talk about art and film, articulately, knowledgably and confidently.
Men her age could be kind. Funny. Sweet in ways that mattered.
But Aaron was on another level entirely. He understood her. He elevated her intellect and her emotions. He brought out the best in her in a way that a younger man could not.
She fiddled with her phone for a while longer then watched the rest of the movie.
Then, with the TV off, she just rested in semi-darkness, closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the plane.
The hum of the engines. The slight, soothing vibrations of the fuselage.
Elise and Marianne rustling in the back.
The cockpit door opening occasionally so Jim or one of the other flight crew could use the bathroom.
Jim was such a nice guy.
Natalie got up and slipped into some sandals. She walked up to the forward section and knocked quietly on the cockpit door.
A moment passed.
The door opened a few inches and Jim looked out.
“Everything okay, Nat?”
“Yes. I’m just being nosy.”
He smiled. “Best kind of passenger.”
“Am I allowed to visit?”
“At cruise, sure.” He opened the door wider. “Come in.”
The cockpit was darker than she expected. Not black, but dim, lit by screens and small green and amber lights. The windshield showed nothing but night.
Jim settled back into the left seat.
“Nat, this is Mark, our first officer, and Sarah, our relief pilot.”
Mark raised two fingers from the right seat. “Evening.”
Sarah turned from the jump seat. “First private flight?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Only because you’re still awake,” Sarah said.
Natalie looked at the screens. “Where are we now?”
Jim tapped one display. “Past Japan. Open North Pacific now.”
The map showed the aircraft leaving the last meaningful piece of land behind.
4:17 elapsed. 8:38 remaining.
Natalie stared. “That’s it? Four hours?”
“That’s how the Pacific works,” Jim said. “You feel like you’ve done a lot. Then the map says congratulations, you’ve barely started.”
“How high are we?” she asked.
“Forty-three thousand feet,” Mark said. “We’ll probably step up later.”
“Is it boring?”
Sarah laughed. “On a good night, yes.”
“And this is a good night?”
Jim glanced at the instruments. “Smooth air, happy engines, quiet passengers. It’s a beautiful night.”
Natalie looked through the windshield.
Nothing.
But not empty. America somewhere ahead. Hollywood.
“Thanks,” she said softly.
Jim nodded. “Anytime, Nat. Now, go enjoy the plane.”
She slipped out. One of them closed the door behind her.
Natalie returned to the cabin.
Aaron was still asleep on the divan, the blanket at his waist, his face turned toward the dark window.
She took off her sandals and curled into the wide seat across from him.
Natalie thought she was too excited to sleep.
She was wrong.
The hum of the engines settled under her. The fuselage vibrated softly. Somewhere behind her, Marianne moved through the galley. Somewhere ahead, Jim and the other pilots carried them through the dark.
Hours later, she woke once, half-dreaming, the cabin was almost silent except for the low, steady breath of the aircraft carrying them across the ocean. Someone had laid a duvet over her as if she were a child. There was also a pillow that smelled faintly of lavender. She drifted back off to sleep.
When she opened her eyes again, the cabin lights had warmed to a pale morning gold.
For one confused second, she did not know where she was.
Then she remembered.
She pulled up the map on the TV. It showed the little white aircraft over the eastern Pacific near Alaska, descending along a long curve toward California.
10:38 elapsed. 2:17 remaining.
Within minutes, the cabin lights began to warm. They warmed slowly, imitating morning.
Aaron awoke.
“Did you sleep?” he asked Natalie.
“I couldn’t help it.”
When Marianne came in, Natalie said, “Good morning.”
Marianne nodded. “Good morning. Coffee or tea?”
Aaron took coffee, Natalie tea. Elise brought it out to them within a few minutes.
While they sat, they saw Marianne prepare the table.
She brought out warmed plates: soft scrambled eggs with chives, crisp bacon, roasted tomatoes, mushrooms, toast in a silver rack, smoked trout, butter, marmalade, and little pots of jam. There were berries, coffee, orange juice, and a bowl of thick Greek yogurt with honey on the side.
Natalie and Aaron got up together, went over, put their drinks on the table and seated themselves.
“It smells delicious,” Natalie said.
“Certainly,” replied Aaron.
After a long breakfast, Natalie changed in the lavatory. She brushed her hair, touched up her lipstick and looked at herself in the mirror.
Jim came over the speakers again as they began descent, announcing clear skies over Los Angeles and landing at Van Nuys in under forty minutes.
Van Nuys.
Natalie and Aaron sat in the club chairs and watched as the plane descended below clouds.
The Pacific appeared first, then the coast, then Los Angeles spreading inland in pale grids and dark lines. Flat compared to Hong Kong. Freeways curved like gray rivers. Tiny blue swimming pools in backyards. The hills rose dry and amber in the distance.
Natalie pressed her face close to the window.
Aaron sat beside her.
“There,” he said, pointing past her shoulder.
The Hollywood sign was smaller than she expected.
That made it better.
The plane banked. For one suspended moment, Los Angeles filled the window, and Natalie felt something inside her settle into place.
The landing gear lowered with a low mechanical sound.
Natalie sat back.
Aaron reached over and took her hand.
The jet touched down at Van Nuys just as the light over Los Angeles turned gold.
When the aircraft finally stopped, Marianne opened the cabin door.
Dry California air entered first.
Warm stone. Fuel. Sun.
Natalie stood beside Aaron at the top of the stairs and looked out at the waiting cars, the private terminal, the low hills beyond the runway.
She was in America.
She was home.