I've heard people talk about that moment when they've had something happen to them and they saw their whole life flash before their eyes, but I'd never quite experienced it before.
Until now.
As I'm frozen in a suspended jump on a plane in the sky, my life most definitely flashes before my eyes. The happy moments, the sad moments, even some smaller nonsensical moments, but oddly the fear I feel coursing through me isn't for me. It's for my kids. And I think if I survive this, that will be what I remember most about this moment.
It's only seconds, but it feels like minutes before my feet hit the ground again and my knees give out beneath me causing me to crumple in a heap onto the floor. Adrenaline courses through my body as I shoot back to my feet in alarm. I've just registered how far into the hallway I'd moved from my initial step when I'm immediately thrown into the door of the bathroom. It bends in the middle, pinching me and then releasing me as we tip the other direction and I slam into the opposite wall. I gasp as screams erupt throughout the cabin. Behind me stuff clatters in the galley and I hear flight attendants curse.
The fasten seat belt sign pings at the same time the pilot says, "Flight attendants, please be seated."
As the plane settles, my eyes rise to find a piercing gaze staring at me in absolute shock. I sprint towards my row as a crew member comes on the intercom telling all passengers to take their seats immediately. The calmness in her voice is betrayed by a sudden yelp when the plane tilts in the middle of her message.
I've just reached my row when another round of intense turbulence hits. In an instinctual reaction like before, two hands grab my waist and my seatmate pulls me to him right as the plane drops again. I slam sideways into his lap at the bottom of the drop and a grunt escapes him as he wraps his arms around me, clutching me to him.
My legs tangle in the armrest as I twist towards him so we sit chest to chest, grasping the seat at his back on either side of his head to hang on for dear life. Seconds turn into minutes as everyone clings to whatever they can and the plane climbs. There's the banging of luggage compartments opening, accompanied by screams and thuds as personal items fall from above. Dread fills my chest as I stare wide-eyed over the seat at the couple behind us. The woman is crying hysterically while the man prays out loud. Finally, the plane calms and the screeches die down.
No one moves as the captain comes on the intercom to make an announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, we sincerely apologize for the severe turbulence. Some light to moderate disturbances had been reported from previous planes in the area, but the turbulence we encountered was very unexpected and we're not sure if we're through the worst of it so we're going to ask you to remain seated for the time being. When we feel it's safe, we'll have the crew make their way through the cabin to do an assessment and confirm everyone is okay."
In the silence that follows, I continue to cling to the seat and take stock of myself to make sure I don't have any injuries. That's when I become very aware of the warm breath on my neck. I slowly pry my cramped hands off the back of the seat and lean back, the arms around my waist loosen in response. My temple grazes the man's stubble as I right myself, my hands sliding down to stop on his chest as I push myself up. We sit quietly for a moment, our eyes meeting before I look down to where his heart thunders under my palms.
"I'm..." What do I even say? Sorry for fucking falling into your lap for the second time today?
This is getting ridiculous.
"That," he pauses, "was scary."
And he's right. My mind immediately goes to Emily and Weston and I swallow back all of the emotions warring inside me like two champions going nine rounds in a fighting ring.
I'm okay.
Everything is okay.
Barely.
He dips his head closer to my face and brings a finger up to my chin, "Are you alright? You didn't hit your head, did you?"
I furrow my brow. "No. No, I'm fine. I just." I take a deep breath in and attempt to push the thoughts of what could have happened and what my children might have lost out of my head. I close my eyes briefly trying to slow my heart rate while I grit my teeth trying to get my shaking under control.
"Does anything hurt?" He asks.
Releasing the tension in my arms, I look down to find a massive rip in my cardigan. I pull down the sleeve, now completely aware that my back is also soaked. My upper arm has a wide, red, V-shaped line down the center where the blood has rushed to the surface from where the bathroom door pinched me.
"How bad is the pain?" He continues, grasping my elbow and leaning closer to examine my arm.
"It's not bad." I lie smoothly.
I flinch when he presses his fingers into the fascia of my upper arm on top of the mark, testing the area. His eyes shift to my face and I give him a tight smile.
"It looks pretty superficial, but you're going to have hell of a bruise." He sighs, "You're incredibly lucky."
Swallowing, I nod. He's right. I could have been thrown around a lot more.
"Your head was centimeters from the ceiling." He says quietly. "I thought."
A chill runs down my spine. Centimeters. That was too close. The nausea in my stomach grows again and I feel panic swell in my chest.
It's over. I remind myself. I'm okay.
"Please, stay in your seats." The flight attendant says exasperated.
Jumping at the sudden voice, it dawns on me I'm not in my seat at all. In fact, I'm still sitting on a stranger's lap.
That's not awkward.
But really, it doesn't feel awkward. At all.
Our eyes meet once more and I shift out of his lap and slip into my own seat, buckling my seatbelt quickly and tightening it. I look over to find those God-forsaken gorgeous eyes watching me carefully before I turn to stare at the seat in front of me. It seems as if the whole cabin is holding its breath in the stunned silence, except for some quiet sobs and frantic conversations back in economy.
Counting in my head to try to distract myself, I've barely reached ten when another round of turbulence hits. It's not as bad as the first two, but when the floor drops once more I slap my hand against our wet center console and scramble to find something to cling to. A hand lands on top of mine and I instinctively flip my hand over and grasp it. A squeaky yelp escapes me as the plane rocks. Feeling a squeeze of my hand, I look down at our laced fingers and squeeze back.
I stare at our clasped hands for a long time, even after the plane calms. Finally, I allow my grip to relax and slide my hand from his and back into my lap without meeting his eyes.
Fifteen minutes after the last of the turbulence hits the flight attendants make their rounds to confirm everyone is okay. Passengers help them to clean up the messes and an attendant brings a hand towel for me to place at my back to soak up the champagne that's spilled everywhere.
Hesitantly taking off my seat belt, I stand to pull off my cardigan when I feel a hand brush the skin of my arm. Looking up, I find those intense blue eyes taking me in as my seatmate stands and motions for me to make my way into the aisle.
As I step out beside him, I feel like I'm really seeing him for the first time. Not in an assessing way, but in an appreciative way. I'm not in a fog of grief at the moment or pissed off at him or in a life-or-death situation, though my senses seem sharper to even the smallest of details from the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. And every detail of this man is gorgeous.
He's the kind of guy you see on the cover of a spicy romance novel. He's built like a quarterback, but with a more elegant leanness despite his broad shoulders, strong arms and big hands. His eyes are intelligent, not missing a thing including my current appraisal if the slight smile on his face is anything to go by. The shadow on the lower half of his face just highlights his chiseled jaw a little bit more and I don't know if it's my age or a daddy thing, but the hints of grey in his hair are far more enticing than they should be considering the day I've had.
I swallow and look down at myself and then I remember how much of a trainwreck I am.
"Let me help you," He says and starts to peel my wet cardigan away from my back.
Once we get it off, I dry my arms and he helps dab my back.
"Thank you," I say turning around to take the towel from him.
I'm starting to feel a bit like a broken record where this guy is concerned.
"It's not a problem." He says softly. "Are you sure you're alright?"
I shift my eyes from the object in his hands to his face, gazing at him through my eyelashes.
"I'm a little rattled, but aren't we all?" I sigh as he relinquishes the towel to me.
"Valid point." His mouth twists up at one corner.
I turn back to my seat and pause before spinning back towards him.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" I blurt out.
"Is that such a terrible thing?" He asks, his brow furrowing. "To be kind?"
My own brows dip in response and I shake my head. "No. No, it's not."
We stare at each other a moment longer, the color of his eyes hypnotic. They are like the sky where it meets the ocean on a summer's day. I can practically smell the salty sea breeze.
"Excuse me," comes from behind me.
I jump and turn to find another passenger standing, waiting to pass so I step out of the aisle and make my way back into my seat, draping the towel over my back before leaning back and buckling myself in.
"Thank you," I repeat quietly looking over at him.
He just nods.
Once things are more settled, it becomes apparent some passengers intend to make their opinion of events known. The two women in front of us pitch such a fit that the attendants offer everyone in our vicinity more free champagne to appease them. They also write a report about my injury, even though I assure them I'm fine.
Luckily, I'd been the only one out of their seats in our area, but Economy wasn't so lucky. They had a few head injuries from people not wearing seatbelts which meant ambulances would be meeting us at the airport once we arrived.
"This is un-fucking-believable," The woman in front of me quips, two glasses of champagne deep. We're thirty-five minutes out from landing and the airplane has been mostly quiet, everyone's a little shell-shocked from what happened. Not to mention, we're all probably adrenaline-crashing.
"You'd think they'd have been better prepared." Her friend adds.
"They did what they could. There's no way anyone could have known what we were flying into." A male voice chimes in, sick of their bitching. I look over to the center aisle to find a handsome biracial guy, who looks to be in his early twenties, sitting with an equally handsome partner.
"Oh please, they could have been at a different altitude." The friend states.
"We were." I chime in, vaguely remembering the captain announcing he was climbing about thirty minutes before the turbulence occurred.
"They could have rerouted us." She quips.
"This is widespread, there was no way around it and something tells me you would be complaining whether we were delayed, flying around, or flying through it." I sigh.
A muffled "yep" comes from somewhere in the cabin.
"You don't even belong up here." The woman in front of me whirls around and snaps. "I saw you at the counter. You were upgraded. You didn't even buy your seat."
She stares down her nose at me, as if the fact I didn't pay three grand for a seat makes me beneath her.
"The irony being she didn't have to." A dangerously calm voice says from beside me.
I peek out of the corner of my eye before looking back to the woman in front of me as she takes stock of the gorgeous man sitting to my right. And she momentarily has the decency to look embarrassed.
"As you've proven." He continues, "Class can't always be bought."
Damn.
A muffled applause breaks out in the First Class cabin and the woman in front of me clutches her metaphorical pearls before turning back around quietly in her seat. Just as she does so, the guy in the center row leans towards them holding out his glass.
"Oh honey, do you need some ice for that burn?" He asks before busting out laughing right along with his seatmate.
I bite my lip. It was funny, I won't lie, but something tells me the man beside me is not amused. When I look over to gauge his reaction he's staring at the seat in front of us and while he looks livid, I also get the sense he might feel a bit guilty. It's clear he doesn't like to put people in their place like that in front of an audience unless they fuck around, that is.
And this woman... she found out.
(Word Count: 2385)