by K. S. Thomas
I practically throw myself up against the first information counter I can find.
“Flight 348. I need to know what’s happening.”
The woman working gives me her professional smile. “Sir, right now we are asking everyone to please be patient. We will update everyone as soon as we know what condition the plane and the passengers are in.”
“Save your standard bullshit answer for someone else. I’m not just some tourist wandering through with a bout of morbid curiosity. My entire life is on that fucking plane. And if you don’t know what the fuck is going on, you need to find me someone who does.”
Her smile morphs into a worried grimace and I try to remind myself that she’s not the one who crashed the plane.
“I’m really sorry, sir. I understand you’re scared. They’re supposed to have notified family members already. All I can tell you is that rescue workers are doing all they can right now and we need to do our part and let them.”
I slam both hands into the counter. “I need to get down there. How do I get down there?”
She looks confused and I think I’m frightening her. “I can’t let you do that, sir. The professionals are handling this.”
“You don’t understand. My girlfriend is deaf. She can’t hear anything that’s happening. If she’s trapped or caught, or dying, she won’t be able to hear anyone if they’re searching for her. She won’t call for help. She won’t...” The image I’ve been fighting with a vengeance since Tony first called finally breaks through. I can see her. Sitting in her seat, blissfully ignorant as the rest of the plane is told about the faulty landing gear. Then panic ensues and she sees the horrified faces around her and she doesn’t understand why. People are screaming. Crying. Frantic. She’s still. Silent. Terrified. Alone.
I can’t take it. I can’t just sit here and wait while Trix is out there. Lost.
Without saying another word to the lady, I turn and start running toward the back near the gates. I’ve got my phone out, calling Tony on repeat but he doesn’t answer. Of course he doesn’t answer. He’s working the fucking plane crash.
I want to feel better knowing that Tony is out there. I trust Tony with my life. I’m just not sure I trust him with Trix’s.
It’s an act of pure desperation when I start to call Trix. I never call her. What would be the point? Today, just hearing her breathing on the other end would be more than enough. I’ve got my phone glued to my ear, listening to dial tone after dial tone, then nothing. Then redial. Then dial tone after dial tone. The cycle would be maddening if it wasn’t the only thing keeping me from losing my mind.
Every exit I approach is guarded. They’re not going to let me out this way. I need to get back to the front. Back outside and try that way.
I turn, breaking into a run while I maneuver my way in and out of the crowd of people coming in from an arrivals gate on the opposite end of the airport. I didn’t even realize how far I’ve traveled since starting on my mission to get the hell outside to the accident site. Apparently planes are still landing in spite of the crash. I can’t help but hate every single one of their smiling, callous faces. Even if they have no clue about the tragic events happening just on the other side of this building.
I’m just rounding the information counter I stopped at when the woman I spoke to comes out from behind the tall desk, waving me down.
She’s not smiling. Just a blank expression. I already know what that means.
My feet stop moving gradually. It’s as if my entire body just ran out of gas and continues going through the motions fueled purely by momentum.
She meets me out in the open. People are everywhere but they seem to be walking around us in a wide circle. As if they can tell. As if they can sense the significance of this moment. Can feel everything that’s simmering within me about to be unleashed.
“What did you find out?”
Her hand lightly brushes my arm. “Sir, if you’ll just come with me, I can take you to someone who can give you an update on the situation.”
“No. You tell me. You know. Just spit it out.”
I don’t know why I’m badgering her other than this is torture and if I’m going to have to live in hell I’m taking as many down with me as I can.
“I’m sorry, I’m not authorized to give out that information. Please, it’s just right over here.”
“TELL ME!” Every head in my direct vicinity turns in my direction.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, tears welling up in her eyes. “There was a fire. No one got out.”
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t stand.
My knees hit the ground hard and my face hits my palms with a force to match. The agony I feel can’t be measured, much less expressed. I’m scared to move. Scared I might shatter into a million pieces if I corrupt this strange, unyielding reality I’ve been left in without warning.
In the distance I can hear the woman from before. She’s saying things. Comforting things. There’s no comfort for this.
My face begins to vibrate and I’m certain this is what convulsions must feel like. Then, I realize it’s my phone, still in my hand and pressed to my forehead and cheekbone.
Because I’m no longer corresponding with my brain or my body, they act of their own accord, lowering the hand holding the phone and allowing my eyes to search the screen for the caller. I want to shut them. I don’t want to see who it is. But I can’t. My body won’t let me. And it’s this ultimate act of betrayal that sends me even deeper off the dark end.
It’s Trix.
Only it’s not. It can’t be. I’ve lived this moment before. I know how it plays out. I answer, hope surging through every ounce of me and wind up annihilated when some stranger’s voice comes on the line to tell me they found this phone...lying feet from a dead body. Bo’s dead body. Trix’s dead body.
“Hello?” My throat is so dry it hardly makes a sound when I speak.
“Penn?”
My heart stops. Then it starts again. This time pounding so furiously I think I might have a heart attack.
“Penn... I wasn’t on that plane.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Trix
I keep glancing at my phone to make sure he hasn’t hung up, all the while rambling on about anything and everything that pops into my head.
I didn’t know about the crash. When we landed and I turned on my phone, I was stunned to see so many missed calls. All from Penn. I was walking out of the jet way and into the gate area about to text him when the older woman who had been seated next to me on the flight got my attention. She said one of the airline employees working the gate had just told her there’d been a crash landing just thirty minutes earlier. Plane coming in from New York. Her eyes went wide as she told me, then, the question I knew was coming hit, ‘Weren’t you supposed to be on that flight?’
I couldn’t even answer her. I just nodded over and over while I hit call, suddenly painstakingly aware of the reason for Penn’s repeated attempts to get through to me.
I practically tackled anyone that was stupid enough to block my path while trying to get out to him.
Finally, I spill through the funnel with a hundred other passengers from various flights, still talking, “The flight was full and I got bumped. I would have texted, only it was last minute and they were leaving so close together I knew I’d get here right around the same time. I never thought...it never occurred me.” I shake my head, tears pooling up in my eyes thinking about what the last thirty minutes have done to him. “I’m so sorry. And I’m here. We just landed. A few minutes ago. Flight 365. Come to the gate. I’m walking out right now.”
My mouth feels like it’s contorting in awkward ways. I need to practice more. I can’t remember the last time I spoke out loud to say so much. And even if he’s only understanding half of what I’m saying, at least I know he can hear me.
Even as I’m speaking, my eyes are searching the area for him. My gaze catches on a woman leaning over something I ca
n’t make out. People move. And I see him. And he sees me. And for as long as I live I’ll never be able to erase the sight of him, on his knees, the lingering horror still etched in his face as he battles with himself over whether I’m alive or dead. Whether to believe the dream or accept the nightmare.
Then I’m touching him. I’m down on my knees as well. Holding him. Pressing his head to my chest so he can feel me. Hear my heartbeat. Move with my breath. Know without a doubt that I’m real. That I’m here.
His hands begin to travel every inch of my body as if he’s checking to make sure I’m really alright and unharmed. When they reach my face, he cups my cheeks in his palms, peeling the loose strands of hair out of my face with his fingers.
He doesn’t speak. Just stares into my eyes while I stare back, and we say a million things without ever saying a single word. Tears streaming down our faces, my eyelids drop as his lips connect with mine and he kisses me with such intensity I can feel every ounce of pain and fear as it seeps from him.
We kiss until we both have to catch our breath. My eyes open again and I start to take in the scene around us. People are watching. Some have even stopped and are pointing at us as if they’re trying to guess what led us to this moment, being tangled up in one another on the floor in the middle of the airport. Whatever they conclude about us, I hope they understand two things. Life is fleeting. Love is everything. If our spectacle conveys anything at all, I hope it’s that.
I feel Penn’s fingers trace down my arm until they find mine and anchor themselves in place.
When he speaks at last, it’s to utter only a single word. “Home.”
I smile through the blurry sheen obstructing my vision and nod. “Home.”
Penn
She’s in my arms. After being forced to face the prospect of never holding her again, she’s in my arms. She’s everything. Everything I think and see and feel, it all comes back to her. I’m alive with her. Every breath is the scent of her. Every heartbeat her name.
All of her luggage was destroyed on the other plane. Worthless stuff compared to what else was lost and I take a moment to comprehend the depth of the gratitude I feel for this moment. Somewhere, here in this airport, there is a cold, stale waiting room filled with people. Family and friends who came to pick up their loved ones but will be forced to leave alone before the day is over.
Everything still seems completely unreal when we step outside. Then I see Tony. He’s in his uniform, the only thing absent is his helmet. He’s walking toward us, his head hanging, his fists clenched. He’s coming to find me. He’s preparing himself for the news he has to give me. He doesn’t know yet.
“Tony,” I call out to get his attention.
His gaze lifts, revealing the agony traced all over his face. Then he sees her.
Tony’s head drops back, his hands clasp together in the air and he sends a prayer of thanks to the sky.
Running toward us, he’s still visibly shaken. “Oh my God. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see a person in all my life.” He pulls us both into a massive bear hug and nobody tries to break free for a long while.
“This is it, you two. I mean it. No more screwing around. You get married. You pop out a ton of babies and you live happily ever after.” He jabs his finger into me, “I mean it, Penn. If you fuck this up, I will kill you myself.”
Trix laughs and I know she understood every word of what he said.
He gives her one last hug and then starts jogging back down the length of the building to rejoin the crew and let them know the good news.
Trix and I watch until he disappears around the corner and then we finally start toward the parking garage.
“I should probably tell you now that I have no idea where I parked the truck.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not going to be a problem.” She points over to the side of the building where my truck is parked half on a median, half off. There’s a tow truck pulling up alongside it as we’re approaching.
“Well, that might though.” We pick up the pace to catch the guy before he starts the process of hooking up my truck.
Since the crash was all over the news, it doesn’t take much to convince him to let us go. Even the security guy who got the tow rolling comes along and agrees to give us a free pass on this one.
A last, we’re on our way home.
The twenty-four hours that follow are every last bit as amazing as the minutes leading up to them were devastating. I’m on a mission to make up for all the years I wasted fighting what was clearly inevitable all along.
If she’s tired of me hovering over her every move she makes, she isn’t showing it. If anything, she leans into my touch, sways into my body, inhales my space.
“Think the guys will notice if I take you to work with me?”
She giggles, the vibration of it tickles my skin. “It’s likely. Plus, it probably won’t be conducive to me keeping my new job at the hospital if I don’t show up because I’m too busy tagging along with you to the firehouse.”
“True. Wait. What hospital?”
She moves into a more upright position. “County.” She smiles.
“You didn’t tell me you got that job.”
“Surprise.”
I’ll show her surprise. In one swift move, I’ve got her by the waist, pulling her back down on her back and I’m covering her with my entire body. I’ve devoured her in every way imaginable since we got home but it’ll never be enough. I’ll never have my fill of her.
My mouth is moving down the length of her neck, finding its way down her collarbone, when her hands suddenly press hard into my chest, pushing me off of her.
Before I can ask what’s wrong, she’s out of the bed, on her feet and running from the room. By the time I catch up to her, she’s curled over the toilet, throwing up. I don’t even have time to hold her hair and she’s standing upright again, making her way to the sink to wash out her mouth.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
She’s stunned by my declaration and, judging by the smirk she’s not even trying to hide, not taking me seriously at all.
“We’re not going to the hospital.”
“Yes, we are. You’re vomiting. We’re not taking any chances.”
She begins to guide me from the bathroom backwards. “Relax. I’m fine. And the nausea should pass within a week or so anyway.”
It’s making me crazy how casual she’s being about this. She could have some new form of Ebola for all we know and she’s acting like she just picked up a twenty-four hour bug somewhere. A twenty-four hour bug that will last another week or two.
“A week or two? So, you know what it is?”
She nods. “Yep.”
“Like, it’s a common stomach bug in Syria?”
She laughs. “It’s a pretty common stomach bug all over the world, actually.”
I don’t find this funny at all. “Well, I would still feel better if we went to see a doctor.”
“I already did that.”
“You did? What did they say?”
Her expression is filled with excitement that seems to be building by the second while she leaves me out here hanging. “She said, ‘Congratulations. Your due date is February 25th’.”
It’s like the information is sifting into my brain in slow motion. And when I stand here, baffled, unable to form words, Trix helps me out and breaks it down into two simple sentences.
“I’m not sick. I’m pregnant.”
I can’t decide whether to make love to her or jump up and down on my bed like a five year old.
“We’re going to have a baby.” I reach my hand out and lay it flat on her belly. “There’s a person in there? Right now?”
She nods, her eyes sparkling at me and a smile so vibrant I fully understand why people claim that pregnant women glow. She’s glowing. Radiating with beauty and a joy so pure and innocent I never want anything to taint this feeling for her.
“Wait, if you’re due end of F
ebruary... then when did we –?”
“Conceive? Well, I’m not sure of the exact date, but I’m guessing it was sometime around our first kiss. Apparently, the little tantrum I threw two weeks prior that had me making myself physically sick for nearly three days, severely impaired the effectiveness of my birth control pill for the remainder of the cycle.”
I swipe a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and tuck it behind her ear.
“Let’s not make things so complicated next time around. Anytime you wanna make a baby with me, you just let me know and we’ll make it happen.”
She grins sweetly. “You wanna make more than one?”
“Are you kidding me? Mini-Trixes? I wanna make a hundred of ‘em.”
She slaps my shoulder playfully and I sweep her up in the kiss I’ve been dying to give her since she first told me she was pregnant.
We’re going to have a baby.
It’s mind blowing how twenty-four hours can change your entire life. How you can go from wanting nothing more than just one more minute of your past, to looking forward to every second of your future.
Our future.
Our family.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Trix
It takes three weeks instead of the one or two, but the nausea finally subsides and the more pleasant aspects of pregnancy begin. Penn and I lie awake at night, our hands flat on my stomach anxiously awaiting the moment we’ll be able to feel our peanut move. That’s what we’re calling him or her. Peanut. I’m not nearly far enough along for there to be visible movement under my skin, but a time or two I’ve felt the flutter of little Peanut movements inside me.
Our last ultrasound went well and even though we both decided to pass on finding out the sex of our baby, Penn is convinced we’re having a daughter. So much so, I’m finding random girl names written on the mirror after every shower these days.
“I think it’s time we decide on a room for the nursery.” He’s standing in the center of the kitchen, holding a catalog he ordered for some fancy baby furniture store. For a man who does sexy so well, I’d never expected him to conquer utterly adorable so easily.