The Year They Fell

by David Kreizman

  I could see on her face that those words stung. “Open the bag.” She went to work, yanking things from my closet and throwing them in as I held the bag open. “It will be warm, but it might get cooler at night. You’ll be flying over the Caribbean Sea,” she said quietly. “Look down and see how blue the water is. Like in Tortuguero. I was looking ahead to that.”

  “You were looking forward to that.”

  “Yes.”

  We worked as a team, running down the list and packing in record time. Finally, I zipped up the bag and we stood looking at each other and breathing heavily.

  “I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. “When all of it was happening, I didn’t think about who I was hurting. I didn’t think about Josie or Jack. I didn’t think about your father. I didn’t think about you. I couldn’t. I’m sorry you felt like you had to keep the secret. I went through this when I was a child. My father … your abuelo … he wasn’t a good husband to Mami. And I swore to myself that I … As much as you hate me for what I did, I promise you I hate myself more.”

  “I don’t hate you,” I said. And I meant it. “What you did to Papi and to the Clays sucked big-time. But if I’m being honest, our family was already way messed up before you had an affair. We were all trying escape in our own way.”

  “Escape. Good word. We have done a lot of escaping.”

  “Do you think about what your life would be, if we’d stayed in Costa Rica?”

  “Sometimes. You were little, so maybe you don’t feel it so much.”

  “Feel what?”

  “Desplazada. Displaced.”

  “Are you kidding? My whole life.”

  “Really?”

  “Josie says I always put myself on the outside.”

  “Josie’s very wise.”

  “Mami, are you glad we came here?”

  She took a long pause before answering. “Your papi, he said we came here for the American Dream. I don’t know that we found it, or even if it’s a real thing. But we found friends. Familia. They were our new home. And that’s all I would ever wish for you.”

  Harrison’s car screeched up in front of the house.

  I started for the door when I realized, “My passport!”

  “I’ll get it,” she said. “Go to the car. I’ll meet you out front!” Mami started out of the room, but she stopped in the doorway. “I’m proud of you, Daya. For everything you’ve done for them.”

  “I haven’t done anything.”

  “You’ve been a good friend to them, even when they didn’t know it. You try to hide it, but you have a big, open heart. Like your papi. That’s why the world hurts you both so much.”

  My phone buzzed.

  Where are you?! We can NOT be late.

  I scooped up my bag and rushed out.

  Harrison was waiting by the front door and he helped me put my bag in the car. “I waited down the street like we said. Where were you?”

  “Look, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

  The door swung open and Mami came charging out of the house with the passport, two bagels, and two bottles of water. “Hi, Harrison. Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “Um, hola.”

  She handed everything to me. “I’m going to call the company and have them turn on your international calling. You call me when you get there, okay?” She didn’t step away from the car. She hovered there right beside my window.

  “Did I forget something?”

  She leaned down, stuck her head inside, and kissed me on the cheek. “Te quiero, princesa.” She spun away quickly and walked back toward the house.

  Harrison started up the car just as Papi came out of the kitchen with two cups of coffee. He handed one to Mami. I could see she was emotional as she told him what was happening. Harrison hit the gas and as we pulled away, I looked back to see Papi holding Mami in his arms.

  * * *

  It felt like hours before we finally made it down the aisle of the plane. Every jerk in front of us had an oversize carry-on that had to be hammered into the overhead compartment. Harrison walked in front of me, his briefcase of research in his arms. A couple of times, he stopped dead in the middle of the aisle and looked back over his shoulder as if he might be considering making a break for it. Each time he slowed down I gave him a nudge with my bag to keep him moving.

  “No turning back now, kid.”

  “I hope that wasn’t supposed to be a pep talk,” said Josie, walking behind me with her own enormous bag. “Because it sounded like a warning.”

  “Why don’t you let someone carry that bag for you, Jo.”

  She shot me a look. “I’m fine. I got it.”

  “So what am I supposed to say right now?” I asked.

  “How about something in Spanish that we can’t understand,” said Archie.

  “Buen viaje.”

  “I know what that means,” said Josie. “And that is wishful thinking.”

  Josie and Archie slid into seats directly in front of Harrison, Jack, and me. When we reached our row, Harrison swiveled his head around like a trapped animal.

  “No,” he insisted. “I can’t sit in a window seat.”

  I slid past him and took the seat myself. Harrison started to sit on the aisle, but Jack grabbed him by the shirt.

  “Look, man, I get the whole panic thing. We’re all a little freaked out,” said Jack. “Remember how you liked my size when I helped you kick your dad to the curb? Well, I’m six four and two hundred and forty pounds and I don’t do middle. Plus, my doctor warned me that flying might make the post-concussive stuff in my brain worse. So I need every inch of space I can get. Any questions?”

  Harrison quietly took his place in the middle and buckled his seat belt.

  While we waited for takeoff, Harrison narrated the preparations like he was reading a flight manual. “Cockpit doors closed and locked. Cabin door closed and secured. Flight attendants check seat belts and deliver the safety instructions. Flight attendants take their seats. Engines on. Brakes released. The plane taxis to the runway…”

  I could tell that the running commentary was making Jack mental, but he let it be and just gripped the armrest even tighter. I could feel the nervous energy coming off both of them as the engines fired up and we started to move. A rush of speed as we raced down the runway, the nose lifted up, and we were in the air. Next to me, Harrison had not taken a breath since we left the gate. Jack’s back was rigid, his eyes focused straight ahead. In front of us, Josie and Archie didn’t seem to be doing much better. Through the gap in the seats I could see their tightly clasped hands.

  I poked my head through. “You okay, Josie?”

  She managed a nod.

  “Jack?” I asked.

  “The doctor didn’t lie,” he said. “It’s like someone jabbing a fork into my brain. But I’ve felt worse.”

  When we passed through the clouds I leaned into Harrison’s space. “Breathe,” I said. “In and out. Or do that freaky pi thing if you have to. We’re good.” I hoped I sounded calm, because I wasn’t sure I was breathing much myself. I was so focused on the four of them that I barely noticed my whole body had been tensed up since the moment we sat down. It was going to be fine. Maybe not fun, but fine. Harrison was still on alert, though, bracing himself for a sudden drop. On the ground, he was always just a few bad thoughts away from a panic attack. Up here, I was afraid he might completely snap.

  “Still climbing,” he muttered to himself between deep breaths. “Level off will begin at approximately thirty-five thousand feet.”

  “Hey, Harrison, I was thinking,” I said.

  “Light turbulence at this altitude is perfectly normal.”

  “Right. So I had this idea. It might sound crazy. Just hear me out. I was thinking about how your dad’s gone and I know it turned out he was kind of a shit burger. But he was fun, right? At least most of the time? He took you to strip clubs and all that. You liked having him around. And now you’re alone in that house again.”

  Somehow th
e mention of his dad cut through his fear of falling from the sky. He looked at me like I was crazy. “I’m not asking my father to move back in the house. He was taking my mom’s money.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. Look … We have an extra room in my house. It’s the little one next to mine. It’s pretty cramped and the window has a view of the Olsens’ nasty garbage cans instead of Josie’s pool. But it’s got a sweet twin bed and lots of outlets for your devices. What do you think?”

  Harrison tilted his head like a confused dog. “You want me to live with you?”

  Jack gave me a look as he rubbed his temples.

  “And my delightful parents. For however long you need. You’ve been in the house. We only have the one bathroom, and the shower never gets hot enough. But you can rent out your place and save some money for college. Or sell it. I just thought: You don’t know what you’re doing next year. Neither do I. Vanesa can be a pain in the ass, but she’s very organized. She’ll help you get your shit together for school and we’ll figure it all out. Better than being alone, isn’t it?”

  Harrison was taking a long time to think about it, so Jack chimed in. “It’s tons of fun there. I mean, last time they served me a beer at two in the morning.”

  “I don’t see you offering. And you probably have eight guest rooms.”

  “I’m kidding. Not an easy thing to do when your brain is exploding in your skull. But I think it’s a cool idea. Very generous. You should do it, man.”

  Harrison bounced his head around like he was weighing his options. “Dayana has always been generous with me,” he said. “Did you know that right after the crash she came over to my house with a big bag full of drugs?”

  “Medication. Prescribed by a doctor.”

  “Not my doctor,” said Harrison. “And not yours either.”

  “I said a doctor.”

  Harrison smiled. “Or two. Or five.”

  Jack asked, “How big was the bag?”

  “Huge,” said Harrison. “Like Santa Claus’s toy sack.” They both laughed and I felt them finally start to relax.

  Josie and Archie turned around. “What’s so funny?”

  “You missed it, Jo. We were just talking about Dayana bringing Harrison drugs,” said Jack.

  Archie whispered, “Today? On the plane?”

  Harrison laughed again. “No. When I was sitting shiva.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to bring, like, sandwiches or a casserole?” asked Josie.

  “Listen, he was a total mess,” I said. “So I brought him a thoughtful gift to help him relax. Just some things I had lying around the house.”

  “Drugs,” said Josie.

  “Medicine,” I said. “Okay, sort of drugs.”

  It’s going to sound corny and weird coming from me. But maybe for the first time in almost fifteen years this group felt like … a group. Friends. And whether I liked it or not, I was responsible for them.

  Spoiler alert: I kinda liked it.

  * * *

  It wasn’t the loud bang and the violent jostling of the airplane that startled me awake. It was Harrison’s death grip on my arm. It felt like he was squeezing right through to the bones in my wrist. The Fasten Seat Belt light binged on and the captain warned us of choppy air ahead. But “choppy” was not the word for it. In an instant, the plane was being bounced around, whipping us from side to side, up and down. Harrison was gasping for air and I could see Jack’s fingers digging into the armrest, his jaw clenched tight. In front of us, Josie was clinging to Archie. I lifted the shade and looked out the window as we dipped and jolted. Nothing but endless blue water below us.

  19

  JOSIE

  We were going down! That’s what every cell in my body was screaming. This wasn’t a patch of turbulence or choppy skies or whatever they say when they’re trying to convince you you’re not going down. The plane was breaking apart and we were going to crash in the water and die. Archie was trying not to look terrified, but I could tell by the way he was clutching my hand that he felt it, too. What the hell were we thinking, coming on this trip? Was somebody trying to get us, like they got our parents? Behind me, I could hear Harrison hyperventilating and Dayana trying to talk him down. The plane was shaking like crazy and taking huge drops. Big roller coaster drops that slam your stomach into your throat. Why weren’t they making any announcements?

  A piece of luggage slammed inside the compartment over my head. I whipped around, expecting to see a big hole in the side of the plane, but instead my eyes caught Jack’s. They were wild with fear and I hated it. Jack didn’t get scared. He scared other people. He was the one who told me that the sounds in the night were normal house noises and checked out the yard when I thought I saw someone through the window. Only now, he looked as frightened as I felt and that made everything worse. In the row ahead of ours, a baby was screaming its head off. Of course the baby had to be right in front of me. Nothing the mother did was working to calm it down. I scanned the rest of the plane. Some people looked properly freaked, but others were casually reading or watching movies or flat-out sleeping. What was wrong with them?! Why were they not panicking?

  The rational part of my brain tried to explain that they weren’t panicking because this was just turbulence. If something horrible was really happening to the plane, the flight crew wouldn’t be so calm. I could see them strapped into their seats, chatting away. But what if they were trained not to react? That’s what I’d do if I ran an airline. I’d make them learn how to stay calm and pretend to be joking around with each other even if we headed for a watery grave. Were they secretly saying prayers and texting goodbyes to loved ones? That’s ridiculous, said my brain. Nobody keeps a poker face when your plane is about to crash in the ocean. Okay, but what about how people always say you should trust your instincts? If you get a bad feeling in your gut, follow it. Right now my instincts were screaming louder than that wailing baby.

  The plane kept rising and falling with loud clunks, and the baby kept wailing louder and louder. I wanted to be anywhere but here. I felt the pull. It would be so easy to slip down to the bottom of the pool. Shut down like I did after Mom and Daddy died. It’s what got me through those first few days. If I let go now, I wouldn’t feel any of it. No fear …

  Archie squeezed my hand as the plane lurched again. Squeezed it as if he knew exactly what I was feeling. No, I wasn’t letting go. No matter how scary this was I had to stay here. For him and for Jack.

  “We’re gonna get through this,” said Archie. But I heard the hitch in his voice.

  What did they tell Mom and Daddy and their friends when their plane was going down? Did they call it choppy skies? A patch of turbulence? Or were they honest? Maybe there wasn’t even time for honesty. If someone did cause the plane to crash, maybe it just … fell without warning and none of them even knew it was happening.

  But I saw the pictures of the crash. The plane didn’t explode before it dropped into the water. They knew they were going down. They had to.

  What did they say to one another in those last moments? Did Daddy try to clear his conscience? Did he confess to the affair? Did he apologize to Mom for cheating on her with her friend? I hated to think that those were the last words she heard. And yet as angry as I was at Daddy, I found myself hoping that in the end he found some peace. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to believe that he did confess. I hoped that in those last moments Mom even forgave him. So as our plane was dipping and diving through the sky and Archie and I were holding on to each other for dear life, that’s what I did. I confessed.

  * * *

  I hadn’t been feeling good in a long while. Months. When it started I just felt tired and … off. Like I was exhausted all the time but I couldn’t really sleep. I’d be crazy hungry, but as soon as I tried to eat, I’d feel too sick to get anything down. I didn’t overthink it, though. It was just another one of those times when my body broke down due to stress.

  Only I wasn’t that stressed.
Things were starting to go really well with Archie. What the hell, I might as well say it. I was in love with him. I’d finally said it to him on the drive home from seeing his birth mother. Or not seeing her. It wasn’t one of those movie moments where you’re on the beach with the waves crashing down and the music swelling. We were on the Garden State Parkway, exit 98, which is pretty much the opposite of that.

  “I’m not feeling so good,” I said. “Car sickness.”

  He screeched the car onto the exit ramp and pulled over. Then he ran to my side of the car and helped me out. “Take deep breaths. There you go. Can I get you ginger ale? There’s a store right down there. We don’t have to drive. I can run and get it.”

  I looked up at him and before I knew it, I said, “I love you, Archie.”

  He waited to see if I was kidding.

  “I do,” I said. “I love you.”

  “Oh,” he said, breaking into a wide smile. “I love you, too.”

  Booting into Coach Murph’s Mustang had been hella satisfying. I hoped that he’d never get the smell out. Throwing up had never felt so … cleansing. Like getting rid of poison from my system. But then it happened again. Jack and I were opening our acceptance emails from Rutgers and I had to run to the bathroom. I puked a third time when Jack and I were meeting with his lawyer outside the D.A.’s office. I barely made it to the bathroom on that one. Each time it happened I came up with excuses for myself. I was feeling anxious or upset or I ate something weird and or didn’t get enough sleep. But then a couple weeks ago I’d woken up sick. And since then I’d felt like I could throw up from the moment I woke up every morning.

  Anyone with half a brain and a day or two of sex ed class would say I was in major denial. I even managed to explain away my first missed period. Stress can cause that, too. And I wasn’t always that regular anyway. Archie and I were careful, I told myself. This couldn’t happen to me. But it’s not like I was one of those girls who thinks she’s just getting fat until she goes to the prom and then … surprise! Of course I knew it somewhere in my brain. I just couldn’t go there.