Safe Landing

There's not going to be a safe landing.

It was the unknown that was the hardest. The what if. What if you'd taken the time to slow down? What if you'd given more than you took? What if you'd appreciated it, not taken it for granted, not just assumed that it would always be there?

You were alone now. You didn't have anyone. It was probably what you deserved. You'd persevere, you always had, but knowing you wouldn't have to if you'd been better caused your heart to clench.

The longest flight of your life was coming to an end, and you considered the travelers making this journey with you by chance. You'd all shared a row on the plane that was taking you to meet your fate. One - cynical, crass, growing up longing to be loved, incapable of committing, but under it all, possessing a fierce loyalty for those he deemed worthy. The other – a gentle, loving soul, committed to service with honor and willing to give all, not just for those he loved, but for the greater good. They were complete strangers who had seeped into your soul, spirits that would forever fill you, thoughts of them making you smile.

For better or worse, they'd helped you navigate the mine field that was your future. Now you'd endure the unbearable wait, the long walk, watching others unite with loved ones, hoping that maybe, despite all odds, there would be a reunion for you too. You hoped the soul-soothing moments you'd shared with these two travelers over the last three hours would ease you into whatever awaited you at the airport gate.

Despite everything, you wished he'd be there.

Three hours earlier

"Thank you for flying National Airlines." You forced a smile at the flight attendant as you boarded the plane. It was going to be a full flight and you were stuck in a middle seat. Appropriate, given the mood you were in. You waited impatiently as everyone made their way down the aisle, hoisting bags that were too large to fit in the overhead, straps smacking you as they did. You pitied your seat mates. You were in no mood for idle conversation. Your temper was wearing thin.

Finally reaching row 12, you were thrilled that no one else had arrived. You plopped into your seat, pulled out your compact and opened it, and grimaced as you took a quick look. There were circles under your eyes, telling everyone you'd not slept well for days. You'd definitely lost your sparkle. You swiped some powder over your nose and ran gloss over your lips, something to make you look less stressed. You opened your backpack and got a whiff of your grandmother's scent. You ran your hand over her letter, lingering. With a sigh, you took the cell phone, headphones and book out of your bag, tucked the letter into the book and stowed the bag under the seat in front of you. You found your seat belt and clicked it, giving it a tug. Whoever was sitting by the window would have to step around you, you weren't getting up again. Music on, book open, you pushed all the sad and empty thoughts aside and got lost in another world.

Within a couple of minutes, you heard shouting and pulled off your headphones.

You looked up to see a tall man in a blue cashmere sweater and gray silk trousers with his finger in the face of an attendant.

"Let me tell you something. You don't know who you're fucking with. Drysdales don't fly fucking coach – ever. I'll sue you and I'll own this stupid airline."

"Mr. Drysdale, I'm sorry. This was the seat that was chosen when the ticket was purchased," said the flight attendant in a surprisingly calm manner. "This is a full flight and there is no room for you to upgrade to first class. And despite what you may think, I had absolutely nothing to do with how the ticket was booked, nor do I have any ability to change the fact that you are in seat 12D. Now, can I help you stow your bag? I'll have a cocktail cart here for you soon."