Chapter 24
24
When I came to the next morning, my flight was boarding. I ran to the gate, my head throbbing due to my overindulgence at Buffalo Wild Wings. As we took off, I felt no desire for N92823, whom I now associated only with pain. I was hungover and grumpy, and wanted to get our last date over with. I recalled my conversation with the woman at the bar, and wondered if N92823 was simply a jerk, like her daughter’s ex. A furtive part of me hoped my negative attitude would spark his interest, as I’d gotten nowhere with adoration. I remembered how Dave had pursued me when I’d ignored him, and been repulsed when he thought I’d grown attached.
But planes are better than people, and N92823 remained indifferent as we cruised above Oklahoma. I was enraged by the clouds, whose fluffiness was an affront to my dark mood. I flouted my usual rules, requesting a can of Coke and a bag of pretzels from the flight attendant. Soon I needed to use the lavatory. I peed and flushed, exulting in the violence with which my urine was sucked away. For once, I felt no shame in sullying a plane’s holding tank with my fluids. It was my spiteful parting gift to him.
By the time we landed, I’d entered a state of grim acceptance. Not only had N92823 rejected me—so had the universe. The vision boards were a fraud. No transcendent fate awaited me, only a dull procession of days. Upon exiting the jet bridge, I rushed away from N92823’s gate, eager to distance myself, as I could no longer bear to look at him.
I’d decided that O’Hare would be my final destination. I had no interest in returning to San Francisco, even if I’d had the money to purchase a ticket. There was nothing left for me there, or anywhere else in the world. If I remained in the airport, grounded among an endlessly revolving set of strangers, I couldn’t cause any more trouble. I would quarantine myself here until my body expired, whether it took weeks or decades.
That night, I spent my last twenty dollars on a bag of trail mix and a Snickers. At an empty gate, C22, I plugged in my phone and sat against the wall, nibbling the Snickers bar’s shell. I reviewed the stream of texts Karina had sent over the last two weeks, feeling guilty I hadn’t responded to any of them. I figured there was no harm in writing to her now.
I sent Karina a simple Hey .
She replied immediately: Omg . Where are you, Linda??
I ignored her question, asking what was new in San Francisco. She told me about going to the Chens’ house the week before and talking to Mrs. Chen, whom she deemed a “nice lady.” Mrs. Chen, of course, had no idea where I’d gone, but then Kevin returned from his shift at 24 Hour Fitness and reported I’d said something about finding my soulmate in Seattle. Karina wrote that she missed me and asked when I was coming home. I told her not to worry and that I’d be in touch soon, though this was a lie.
A new day dawned. I was woken, as usual, by the sound of a vacuum, the airport’s rooster. I roused myself from the floor and descended the escalator to the tunnel that connected Concourse C to the rest of the airport. The tunnel was famous for its light display, curving strands of neon that raced across the ceiling, synchronized with a playful electronic score. I stood on the right side of the moving walkway. Travelers streamed around me, jostling me with their bags as they rushed to make connections.
I regretted texting Karina, as now she wouldn’t leave me alone. I declined her calls and ignored her texts. That afternoon, as I was strolling through Concourse B, I received a message from Dave: Hey, Linda. How you holding up? When I didn’t respond, he sent a photo of three chicken tacos on a paper plate. Got a new place in Santa Monica. Selling the old haunted house. Life is good! I’m here if you ever want to talk.
I assumed that by contacting me, he was violating the contract he’d signed with Acuity. Karina must have asked him to reach out, on the off chance I’d reply to his message while ignoring hers. I didn’t want to talk to Dave, though I was glad he didn’t seem angry. He was back to his old self, sending me unsolicited pictures of meat.
By the third day, I’d finished the trail mix. My hunger intensified until I could think about nothing but food. That evening I sat in Concourse C’s jazz-themed food court, watching people eat. Behind me rose a sculpture of three eyeless, suited men playing instruments—trumpet, trombone, saxophone. To my left, through the grid of windows, the sun was setting, casting the plane docked at C19 in pink light. A family sat at a nearby table, having a rushed dinner of pizza. The parents cajoled their son to eat more. “Come on, one more bite,” the mother said, holding a slice toward the boy, but he turned his little face away. They gave up, dumping their tray in a trash can. After a moment, I went over and casually plucked out the pizza, which was unsullied aside from a small bite at the tip.
I proceeded to feast on trash, feeling like a clever rat. I observed people eating and tracked their progress to the trash receptacles. I reasoned that if I’d seen them throw it out, it wasn’t as bad as eating food that had lingered with the other garbage. I ate chow mein, more pizza, and half a salad, preserved in its plastic shell. When I’d had my fill, I sat by the windows, feeling proud of my resourcefulness, my indomitable will to survive. As I watched a Triple Seven pull back from C19, I felt the first stirrings of arousal since I’d moored myself at O’Hare. I could no longer fly, but I could content myself with spectating on planes for the remainder of my hopefully brief life.
I was still tracking the Triple Seven’s progress on the taxiway when my phone buzzed. Simon was trying to facetime with me. I was curious about what he wanted, and wondered if he had an update about the video, though it hardly mattered now. I picked up before realizing I’d fallen into a trap Karina had laid.
Simon was outdoors, standing against a gray wall. It was 8:00 p.m. in California, and the sun was setting, the golden light elevating his doughy features.
“Where you at?” he said.
“An airport,” I said.
“Which one?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I wouldn’t be tricked into revealing my location.
“Where you flying to?”
“Nowhere,” I said.
He snorted. “Okay, whatever. Just come home. Karina’s losing her shit.”
“I don’t have any money.”
Simon took a drag off a vaping device. I hadn’t realized he consumed nicotine, and wondered if he’d refrained from doing so on our coffee date to make a good impression. “I could buy you a ticket,” he said as he exhaled, his head concealed within a cloud of vapor.
I was moved by his generosity, though his offer seemed reluctant. “Thanks, but I’m not coming back,” I said. “This is my home now.”
“The fuck you talking about, Linda?”
I wished Simon well and ended the call.
—
As I wandered the corridors of O’Hare, day after day, my senses began to warp. The ground seemed to undulate, the floor’s checkerboard pattern rising up to greet me. I felt like a fish in an aquarium, safely contained. Beyond the glass, the world moved on without me. I explored other terminals, watching planes take off and land, returning always to Concourse C, an oblong island accessed only via the light tunnel.
Without the thrill of flying, though, I grew bored and lonely. I considered trying to strike up conversations with travelers at various gates, but my already clumsy social skills had become even clumsier through disuse. When I smiled at people, they turned away, seeming unsettled. I knew I looked strange and feral. For years I’d worked hard to blend in with respectable society, but I was too far gone now to pretend. I kept to myself, moving frequently between gates, to avoid the scrutiny of any airport official who might attempt to oust me.
On the fourth night, I lay in my nest at C22 and perused the social media accounts of my loved ones. Denise had posted a video of Claudette taking a few wobbly steps across the plush rug of their living room. Karina had posted a photo of herself and Anthony holding hands on Baker Beach, with the caption: Can’t wait to be this guy’s wife! I wished I could talk to her, but I knew she would only pressure me to fly back to San Francisco. I hoped that, with time, everyone would simply forget about me.
The next day, I was making my rounds through Concourse C when a figure appeared in the distance. A woman, dressed in black leggings and a pink sweatshirt on which dogs rode skateboards. She spotted me, her face lighting up, her form moving toward me. For a moment, I wondered if I was hallucinating.
“Linda!” Karina said. “Thank god.” She threw her arms around me, and from the pressure of her bones I knew she was real. Her face was clean of makeup, which made her look younger, her skin firm and dewy.
“You flew here?” I said, amazed.
She nodded, beaming. I was relieved our aborted practice flight hadn’t traumatized her permanently. I asked how the flight had been.
“There was a little turbulence, but I closed my eyes and took some deep breaths, and it passed. If anything, it was boring.” She gripped my elbows. “I’m so happy I found you. I’ve been walking around this airport for an hour.”
“You came here just for me?” I said, feeling guilty.
Karina rolled her eyes. “Obviously.” She explained that Simon had determined my location from our FaceTime. The window beside me was dark, so he knew I was somewhere east of California. Then, when I’d shifted in my seat, he’d glimpsed the jazz-playing statues, which allowed him to trace me to the food court. I should have known better than to accept his call. Simon was too good at the internet.
We settled into seats at the nearest gate. Though I was happy to see her, Karina’s presence made me uneasy. I figured she’d want me to return to San Francisco, and I dreaded having to rebuff her after she’d come all this way. She ran a hand through my greasy hair and let it fall against my back.
“Are you okay?” she said. “You look…terrible. No offense.”
I knew I had to appear stable, so she would leave me alone. “I’m fine,” I said. “I feel great, actually.”
“How long do you plan on staying here?”
“Just a little while longer, while I plan my next move.”
“Aren’t you out of money?”
I was irritated by her questions. “I’m happy here. The airport provides for all my needs.”
A plane had just arrived at the gate. From his pointy nose and diminutive form, I surmised he was an Embraer 170. Passengers emerged from the jet bridge, looking rumpled and dazed.
“Did you ever find the plane from your vision board?” Karina asked.
I nodded. “I flew on him seventeen times. But it was pointless. He didn’t want me.”
“I don’t think planes can want things,” she said gently. “They’re just machines, you know?”
“That’s what everyone thinks,” I said. “But I know the truth.”
“I get it, though,” she said, surprising me. “It sucks to feel rejected. I’ve been through breakups where I felt like I was going to literally die. The only thing that helped was time. Focusing on other things. Eventually, it passes. You’ll see.”
“I didn’t just want some guy to be with me,” I said, more bitterly than I’d intended. “It was more extreme than that.”
Karina smiled, seeming unfazed. “I know. It’s okay to have fantasies. Your thoughts aren’t powerful enough to make anything happen.”
I wished I could buy into this banal interpretation. Self-loathing crashed upon me, and I unwisely launched into a confession. I told her how I’d spent six thousand dollars on flights in the past two weeks. I told her how, after my dad died, I’d sold his boat, the thing he loved most in the world, and used the money to fly for a month straight. My brother had helped me get back on my feet, and I’d wasted his gift, ending up worse off than ever before. “I only bring trouble to the people who love me,” I said. “I can’t do it anymore. I’m sick of being selfish.”
“Don’t you see that it’s selfish to stay here?” Karina said, with a note of anger that took me aback. “We all want you to come home. Not everyone has that, you know. People who miss them when they’re gone.”
My face burned with shame. I knew she was right about my selfishness. Yet I also felt she wasn’t understanding the full extent of my transgressions. “If you knew about the things I’ve done, you wouldn’t miss me,” I said.
“Like what?”
“I touch myself on the planes,” I said, keeping my voice low. “That chunk of 737 I showed you, in my room? I put it inside me. I get off on simulations of plane crashes.” I waited for her reaction, but her face was blank. “I’ve been eating out of the trash,” I added.
Karina grimaced, and I saw I’d finally managed to offend her. “Ew, Linda,” she said. “Don’t do that.”
The screen above the gate desk indicated the Embraer 170 would board for Detroit in twenty minutes. Travelers had begun gathering around us. Karina turned to me and placed her hand on my arm.
“Look, Linda,” she said. “None of that matters to me. The important thing is, you’ve always been a good friend. Other people, I can tell they’re angling to get something. I’m always on my guard around them. Even Judy acts awkward with me, like I’m a mental patient she has to keep her eye on. But with you, I can be myself. I miss hanging out with you. I miss eating ramen in your weird little room.”
I couldn’t believe it. I’d told Karina everything, and she still wanted to be my friend. This was what I’d wanted for so long, and thought was impossible—to reveal my true self and be accepted as I was.
I suggested we take a stroll through the light tunnel, as the gate area had grown crowded. On the walkway, Karina asked me to take her picture beneath the streams of neon. She posed glamorously, leaning back with her elbows on the handrail, and I was reminded of our photo shoot back in January, when she’d taken pictures for my dating profile. We laughed as travelers pushed past us with indignant looks. By the time we’d traversed the tunnel, and emerged into the bright halls of Concourse B, my perspective had shifted. I’d forsaken humanity on behalf of planes, but humanity, in the form of Karina, had arrived to pull me back into its fold.
I stood beside my friend as she refilled her water bottle.
“When are you flying back?” I asked.
She screwed the top back on the bottle. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Then neither am I,” Karina said, tucking the bottle into her bag. I couldn’t tell if she was bluffing.
She walked toward the escalators to baggage claim, and I followed her. “Karina,” I said. “We can’t fly together.”
“Sure we can.”
I was intrigued. We stood on the escalator, Karina on the step below mine. “Why don’t we get out of here?” she said. “It’s getting late. We can spend the night at a hotel.”
We approached the exit door. A sign warned that no re-entry was permitted past this point. I paused a few feet from the threshold, reluctant to eject myself from the secure sector.
“Come on, Linda,” Karina said, grasping my wrist. “I’ve got a room booked. You can take a shower, and then we’ll have a nice dinner.”
My resolve crumbled at the prospect of a shower. I allowed Karina to lead me through the doorway, back into the world.
—
Our room was on the twentieth floor of the Hyatt Regency, the same chain I’d stayed in with Dave in Irvine. From our window, the downtown skyline appeared at a distance, through a gauze of storm clouds, a weather system that would likely delay flights into and out of O’Hare. I showered, rinsing weeks of grease from my hair and scrubbing every inch of my body with a washcloth. I emerged from the bathroom feeling dizzy, my blood pressure plummeting from the hot water. I collapsed onto the nearest bed, still wrapped in a towel.
“You okay?” Karina said. She sat in the chair by the window. Rain pattered softly against the glass.
“What day is it?” I asked, feeling as though I’d surfaced from a spell.
“Sunday.”
“Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”
“That’s the thing, Linda,” Karina said, her eyes bright. “I quit!”
She proposed we go to the lounge, where she’d tell me everything. I put my dirty clothes back on, and we headed downstairs, settling into low-slung red chairs on either side of a small round table. Karina ordered a bottle of rosé, dismissing my concern about the cost.
“I hated how they treated you and Simon,” she said, swirling her glass in a sophisticated manner. “They were so eager to cover up for Dave being a pervert. They gave me a one-dollar raise in exchange for keeping quiet. I went along with it for a few days, but it didn’t feel right.”
I was a little annoyed they’d offered her the same deal they’d offered me, when I was the one who’d endured the supposed harassment. Dave hadn’t been the only factor in her decision, however. The center seemed to be going downhill. The terminals were dirtier in the mornings. Christa didn’t make her quarterly Costco run; when pressed, she said simply that the snack budget had been cut.
“That place is a sinking ship,” she said. “Besides, Anthony signed a deal with a streetwear company, so that gives us more flexibility. We moved into our own place last week. A one-bedroom in the Excelsior.”
I was impressed. “Is he still working at the pizza place?”
“No, he’s doing shirts full-time now. It’s gotten me thinking about what I want to do. I might get my esthetician license. I think it would be cool to have my own eyelash business.”
I took a sip of rosé, feeling the wine warm my stomach. “I always wondered why you stayed at Acuity so long.”
“I know,” Karina said. “I thought it was what I deserved.”
“But why would you think that? You’ve never explained.”
Karina regarded me steadily. “Do you really want to know?”
“It can’t be worse than what I’ve done.”
She set her glass on the table. “Because of me, a person died,” she said.
I was shocked but tried not to show it. “What happened?”
“There was this girl in high school,” she said. “Her name was Cammie. Her family had just moved to the city from Ohio. She was awkward. Weird clothes, bad teeth. She was lonely. You could practically smell it on her. She kept trying to be friends with us, and in the hierarchy of the school, that was an insane move on her part. That’s what we thought. She should have tried to be friends with people on her own level.”
“You were the cool kids.”
“You could say that, yeah.”
I’d been correct, then, in my assumption that Karina had been a popular girl, someone who would have snubbed me, if not viciously bullied me, had we grown up together. “So you were mean to her,” I said. “That’s what kids do.”
“It was worse than that. We acted like she was the coolest girl ever and invited her to everything. It was obvious that we were making fun of her, but she didn’t seem to realize, no matter how far we pushed it.”
I was reminded of the early days of my friendship with Karina, when I’d feared it was all an elaborate prank. “Okay,” I said. “And then what?”
Karina’s eyes had a distant look. “We invited her to come on a camping trip one weekend, at the Russian River. This big group of us. Judy’s dad paid for it all, to celebrate our graduation.”
Long-Neck Judy, I thought with fondness.
“So that night we were sitting around the campfire, playing truth or dare. And I was a little drunk and it started bugging me that Cammie was there. The joke had gone on so long, it was like everyone had forgotten it was a joke. She was sitting there smiling and saying goofy shit. It pissed me off, I guess, that she’d gotten so comfortable. When it was Cammie’s turn, she chose dare and I said…Oh, god, it was awful.”
“What did you say?”
Karina closed her eyes. “I said, ‘I dare you to kill yourself, Cammie. Don’t you know we all fucking hate you?’?”
We were both quiet for a moment, her words hanging between us.
“So she jumped in the river?” I said.
Karina shook her head. “Nothing happened that night. After the trip, Cammie kept her distance. And then, a few years later, we found out she’d died. The details were kept private, but it sounded like an overdose, or suicide. Judy asked around, and it turned out Cammie had gotten pretty heavy into drugs after high school.” Karina dabbed her eyes with a cocktail napkin. “She was such a sweet girl. And all I could think was if I’d kept my mouth shut that night, she’d still be alive.”
I waited for her to say more, but as I watched Karina sniffle, I realized this was the extent of her secret. I’d expected something worse, perhaps a body stashed in Celia’s crawl space.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I said. “You don’t know what her life was like.”
Karina nodded slowly. “All I know is, I made her life harder. I’ve always believed people get what’s coming to them, eventually. I feel like the universe is waiting for the right moment to punish me. By working at Acuity, I was trying to punish myself, to let some of the pressure off, so I’d be spared from a worse punishment in the future.”
“Like a plane crash,” I said.
“I know it sounds crazy, but I couldn’t shake it. Not until you disappeared, and I knew I was the only person who could bring you back.”
I understood now why she’d come all this way. She had killed one weird girl, by her telling, but now she had a chance to save another.
“You really aren’t afraid to fly with me?” I said.
Karina shrugged. “Whatever happens, happens. I’m done living in fear.”
Her mood seemed lighter now that she’d unburdened herself. She poured the rest of the bottle into our glasses and signaled for the waiter, ordering another bottle of wine and some parmesan fries. I asked what Anthony had thought about her coming here.
“He was all for it. He said, ‘We gotta get Lindy back in time for the wedding.’?” She smiled. “It’s in three weeks. You’re still down to be a bridesmaid, right?”
I was incredulous. “You really want me to do that?”
“Of course. I need you there, Linda.”
We grew drunker, and in the midst of our merriment, Karina facetimed Anthony, and I was treated to a view of his jovial face.
“Sup, Lindy?” he said. “You about ready to come home?”
I was moved by this simple question. All these years, I’d chased planes in pursuit of fulfillment, neglecting the home I’d made in San Francisco, in the windowless room that had probably by now been rented to someone else. I could find another place to live, and a new job, perhaps one well-paying enough that I could rent a room with a window. A path forward revealed itself. I would resign myself to the satisfactions of a normal life, without the highs and lows to which I’d been accustomed. I would content myself with eating and sleeping, watching the sun rise and set, spending time with Karina and Anthony and their inevitable children, until at an advanced age I died an ordinary death no one would deem tragic. Who was I to insist on more?
Besides, I had more than my own future to consider. Karina wouldn’t fly back without me, and I refused to let her miss her own wedding on my account. I realized I’d already made my decision when I had allowed her to lead me out of the secure sector, into which I could not enter again without a ticket. When we’d hung up with Anthony, I told her I was ready. “Let’s fly back tomorrow,” I said.
“Oh, thank god,” Karina said, sinking into her chair. “I didn’t want to push, but I couldn’t afford another night at this hotel.”